Chapter 2

I awoke with a blinding headache and fire coursing through every joint I had.

"Oh, crap. Not this again."

Yep. I was 'moooved'. (a line from a comedy skit that I attribute to Johnathan Winters)

I was back on my rented patch of pine forest that I'd leased to harvest deer, come the season. I was still dressed in my hand-made tunic and had sandals strapped to my feet. However, there was a difference. The backs of my hands didn't look like ten miles of bad road anymore. The skin was young, supple, soft and virtually unlined. I rose from beside my loaded travois and looked around. The truck was 'thataway'. I made water against a tree and reached down to pick up my travois. Perched atop the load was something that I hadn't seen in over thirty years--my wallet and keys.

Well, if whoever put me back there and brought me back could do that then I figure they could copy off my wallet and keys too. I shook my shoulders, then caught myself. I decided to give them both a thorough going over. It's a good thing I did. The expiration date on my driver's license was in August, 1957. Hell, I was BORN in 1957. The home address wasn't anywhere near Joliet, Illinois. It was somewhere called Bay City, Michigan. The wallet was packed with gold certificates in denominations ranging from twenty dollars all the way up to five thousand dollars. I counted it out to 30 five thousand dollar bills, 10 five hundred dollar bills, 10 hundred dollar bills and 25 twenty dollar bills. I was looking at over a hundred and fifty thousand bucks in 1957 dollars, when gas cost around 19 cents a gallon. Well, this put a new twist on things, to say the least. I looked over at my travois then down at the wallet. Nice trade.

The key ring only had four keys on it, and one was for a padlock. I found one marked "Chevy", a Masterlock, a Schlage (probably a door key) and a smaller key on its own split ring. The mystery wouldn't solve itself so I geared up and headed up the path. Instead of my Ford F250 I found a bright red 1955 Chevy 3100 pickup with a high-boy cab and a bill over the windshield. I shrugged, broke down the travois into the bed, unlocked the door and gave a look at the interior. Wow. Analog gauges, manual choke, high-beam switch on the floor, a big steering wheel with a trucker's spinner knob, stick four-on-the-floor (if you counted reverse) and a big bench seat. There wasn't a radio or seat belt to be found. I hunted around for a map of Michigan and found it in the glove box. It brought me back to my childhood to see an oil company road map. I was a lot closer to home than when I started out--the deer lease was near Traverse City, just across the state from Bay City. There were no real towns of mention between the two places but Cadillac, south of me by about 40 miles, caught my eye. I pulled the choke, started the truck, let it warm up, eased the choke back in, backed out of where I'd parked, shifted into first and headed down the gravel road.

I thought about what I'd found so far as I drove. I was driving a pickup--that obviously meant that we had heavy centralized industry and an oil-based economy. I could read the map, so English was still the local standard and the spelling was familiar. The gold certificates should have gone out with the depression, so that was a change. Soon I drove into town. It wasn't much, but it had a clothing and linens store. I parked, grabbed my wallet and keys and walked in. When the little bell on the door rang an older fellow came out of the back, looked me up and down and raised an eyebrow. I shrugged. "Jealous husband. I ran out with what I could." He snorted and motioned me back to the men's goods. "I need a towel and washcloth, shorts, socks, shoes, pants, shirts, a belt a hat and a jacket, preferably two sets of all but the shoes, belt, hat and jacket. Off-the-rack is fine as I'm headed home from here." He got me kitted out for under forty bucks. Wow!

I gave myself a whore's bath in the men's room sink, dried off and changed. After paying up and tipping the man for his service I found out where there was a good local diner and a hardware store. At the hardware store I purchased four big tarps, a thousand feet of rope, two axes, files, wedges, a brace and bits, four fixed-blade swedish-steel knives, two hand saws, a big swedish bow saw, a sledge hammer, a pry bar, a steel mallet, heavy pliers, wood chisels, steel chisels, star drills, sharpening stones, 3-in-one oil and a hundred feet of 10-gauge wire. I also purchased a heavy wooden shipping crate he found in the back to keep it all together when loaded in the back of the truck. Then and only then I felt comfortable enough to locate the diner and feed up. I simply wasn't willing to move from there without those tools My greed and paranoia would not let me move from there without said tools. I relaxed into the diner's atmosphere. The menu was full of things I hand't thought of in a generation. Rather than cause a scene I orderd the holy grail-- two eggs over easy, a rasher of crisp bacon, a side of cottage fries, a glass of orange juice and an ice tea. Now, I'm not what you'd call a religious man but when the nice lady served me that order I just had to come out with "We thank you lord for that which we are about to recieve. Amen" The lady at the table next to me just BEAMED! I noticed her until the aroma of that food hit my nose. Let me tell you I worshiped that food as I ate it. It came with buttered toast. I slathered it with strawberry jam and devoured it to the last crumb. The orange juice was sweet, tart and lovely. Drinking the tea reminded me of meeting an old lover by accident. Did my experience leave me with a new appreciation for modern food? Hell, yes! I'd have to watch my weight for a while. In the 'back then' eating was a chore. Eating in the here-and-now was a delight. I left a very generous tip, paid my bill and headed South down the road. By the color code on the map I'd soon hit the blacktop where I should turn easterly to meet up with Bay City.

I didn't want to try to find the place in the dark so I took a small hotel room that night once I got to Bay City. It was one of the larger towns around and sported several places that offered rooms to let as well as simple overnight sleeping quarters. During check-in I found out that the date was June 21, 1955. I needed some personal supplies and found a drug store just before they closed. I purchased shampoo, a toothbrush and toothpaste, a bottle of witch-hazel, shaving soap, a cup and brush, a safety razor and double edged blades.Before going to bed I roped a tarp over the bed of the truck to obscure everything back there. Theft in 1955 wasn't like in 2000 but as they say, out of sight, out of mind. After all, there was over 100 dollars at 1955 value back there along with all the things that I'd agonizingly made myself. a new knife and my iron glaive went to bed with me. I took a long, luxurious shower and went to bed between cotton sheets for the first time in a long, long time.

I'm afraid that I was suspicious of where I was when I woke up every morning for a long time after that. I was still in the hotel room. A quick peek outside the window showed my pick-up. I relaxed a bit. When I did the morning bathroom ritual it felt completely unnatural. I dressed and left. As I returned the key at the office I found out where a respectable breakfast house was in town. I filled the gas tank, checked the oil and bought a map at a service station then headed for food. I smiled in anticipation of chicken fried steak, gravy and hash browns. I ate slowly, watching my manners. If I'd died after finishing that meal it would take a team of morticians three days to get the smile off my face. I even had a slice of hot apple pie with my coffee and cream for desert. The meal and a generous tip barely cost me five bucks. I shook my head in wonder at the disparity of how I'd been living compared to where I'd landed.

I consulted the map for where the library could be found. It was a Carnegie library and was very well built. I greeted the librarian, headed for the reference section and looked through the encyclopedia for what could and could not be found. Radio? yes. Television? yes. Firearms? yes. Atomic energy? Nope. Good. We escaped a big one there. World War 1? yes. World War 2? Nope, but lots of riots. No Korean war looming, either. No cold war, nada. The Catholic, Baptist and Methodist churches were around, but nothing of Luther. There were more Amish and Shaker around than I remembered. It seemed that the war between the states was a fizzle. Interesting. The laws on firearms ownership were pretty liberal but only for rifles. Nobody but the police carried pistols. Explosives? Sure! You could buy them, as well as blasting caps if you had an address outside of city limits. If you got caught using them and anybody but you got injured you'd better have a damned good reason or you WERE going to prison, just like the laws on arson. Segregation was a joke--Alabama was a hold-out but everywhere else everybody drank together, worshiped together and ate together. Salt and pepper couples were gawked at but nobody got hung over it. There were notes about the 'dynamite wars' when a hell of a lot of Klansmen were blown to glory. Hunh. Islamic prayer vests showed up five decades early. There was no talk about the Eisenhower highway system.

Tube amplifiers, receivers and transmitters were around. Everything worked on 50 Hz! Transistors were still an idea that hadn't jelled yet. Vinyl records had been out a few years. Big band, Jazzmen and crooners were taking advantage of the new media and they were selling like hotcakes. I wondered what I could do to invent things that I knew something about but didn't come up with much. I knew enough about lasers to make one but Bell labs about had that sewn up by 1957. The basic transistor was well on the way and I didn't know enough about photolithography to design and mask an IC (integrated circuit). There weren't any jet engines, but did I really want the damned things around? I decided on leaving well enough alone and cashing out the gold certificates for specie and waiting until the market price of gold jumped.

I found my home--a red brick ranch house on a concrete pad with an attached garage about 2 and a quarter miles East of town on 25. I pulled into the driveway not knowing what to expect. Since I'd never lived there yet had the address on my driver's license I was caught up in anticipation of what I'd find. The master-lock key on my keychain opened the garage door. I pulled the doors wide and drove in. After shutting down the truck I looked around curiously. There was an almost-full width workbench across the back of the garage and two doors, one obviously out to the back yard and one to the left, hopefully into the house. I unlocked the left door and entered into a mudroom. There wasn't a scrap in there except an open-top washing machine with a wringer and a washtub on a stand. I continued into the kitchen. It had a modern feel to it--it was not cramped but had an open plan with a large island overlooking what was obviously a sparsely furnished living room. I could see the front door from the kitchen. There was a big Roper stove, a chest freezer and a refrigerator. There were cabinets everywhere. I curiously opened everything I could, finding glasses, dishes, flatware, pots, pans and all the little trivia that people use to cook with, but not a scrap of food. Nada. Nothing. The freezer and refrigerator were running and cold yet empty as if they were on the showroom floor. The water worked at the sink and ran hot when I opened the left tap. I closed up everything and continued. The bathroom had a sink, toilet, tub and shower. There were no linens, toilet paper or shower curtain. Next door was a linen closet--empty of anything including dust. Two bedrooms finished off the floorplan--the larger one to the left, or front of the house a much smaller one to the rear. Each had a bed, chest of drawers, 2 chairs, a table and a bedside stand. No pillows were in evidence nor sheets, blankets or clothing. The only thing that interrupted the surfaces was a small leather document wallet lying on the master bedroom table. I sat and inspected it. Within was a deed for the house and property, a completed mortgage book, documentation of a home-owners insurance policy, a savings account book with the Great Lakes credit union featuring a middling eight digit balance, a checkbook written on a checking accout at the Michigan state bank and trust with a 500,000 dollar balance, a safety deposit agreement with said Michigan state bank and trust and a short note thanking me for my service, apparently laser printed. Wow--brief and to the point. I guessed that I wouldn't have to worry about investment strategies unless I lived a long, long time. Well, before I could spend the night I'd have to buy quite a few things so I emptied the truck into the garage and tootled off to town.

I ordered a quarter of prime beef and a half of a pig to be cut up, wrapped and frozen at the first butcher I could find. Butcher. Yep, in 1955 the butcher had his own shop as did the baker The coffee shop sold breakfast and nothing on othe menu was in Italian. While I was there I bought four strip steaks, a small roast, two pounds of smoked sliced bacon and a quarter pound of his beef jerky to see what it was like. My order would be ready in a few days, on Friday. I paid for everything and had him ice down the meat in a cooler I bought because it would be a while before I got home with the goods.

Next came a hardware store. I lusted after a kerosene lamp so that went to the top of the list along with a fuel can for it. Did they have barbecue grills? Yep. Ever hear of a Webber kettle? Yep. I want one. They had charcoal, starting fluid and matches. I was in business. I needed to check to see if I had a back patio or not. If not I was going to get one put in fast. I'd probably have a charcoal grill and hood put into the kitchen too. There. I just thought of two things that I could design and sell--long piezo-ignited butane lighters and chimney charcoal starters. Maybe I could get some cred from Webber by talking them into selling top grates with hatches to feed charcoal into the grills for long-cooking recipes. Aluminum drip pans for indirect cooking was another thing I hadn't seen. All right, they're not earth-shaking but give me a break--I live where I eat. They had a multi-band radio that appealed to me so I bought that as well.

On to the grocery store. I raided the canned goods for vetables, fruits and fruit juice, bought a garbage can, aluminum foil, saran wrap, paper towels, vinegar, bleach and Lysol. Everyone must have been wondering why I was grinning ear-to-ear as I bought bread, cheese, butter, eggs and orange juice. There wasn't much in the way of fresh vegetables but they did have lettuce, potatoes, tomatoes, onions, carrots, celery, apples and grapes. Flour, corn meal, sugar, salt, pepper, garlic, oregano, bay leaf, hot sauce, mayo, mustard, ketchup, sweet pickles, baking powder, shortening and cooking oil made me very, very happy. They had flour sack towels in stock so I bought a dozen along with a couple of wash rags, a pot scrubber and dishwashing liquid. Aha, soap! Shampoo and hand soap, toilet paper, a mop, broom and bucket. For some reason they didn't have garbage bags or trash can liners. Interesting. They had shower curtains and hooks so I bought a set. My living room had a couch, recliner and coffee table. Period. I'd need to get a small kitchen table and chairs but I could live without them for now. I bought another two twenty-pound bags of charcoal because I knew that's how I'd be cooking most of my meals for a while. I damned near bought them out of candles. I bought a handful of fuses and a couple packages of light bulbs, a couple of pens and a noteboook, a church key (bottle opener), a rotary can opener and a pound of coffee. For some reason I didn't see any coffee filters.

After groceries came linens. I found a white goods store and paid them a visit. I left with six sets of sheets, six of their largest bath towels, a bathroom set of floor mats, two pillows and a good selection of small woven goods such as pillow cases, blankets and quilts. I knew that I had enough to spend the night and called the shopping expedition to an end. Back home I assembled the grill, started a fire and stored the food while the fire matured. Linens got distributed and cleaning supplies stored. I plugged the radio into a socket in the living room and tuned in a jazz station. I had a nice grilled steak and baked potato for dinner. (there was a little patio that would require work) This closely resembled the meals that I'd had during my visit to back-time. It comforted me. Sleeping on the bed was distressing. I gained little rest on the mattress topping that bed.

Wednesday.

I drove to town for breakfast and gorged on comfort food once again, consuming a mound of pancakes and a side of crisp smoked bacon. I read the local paper until the furniture store opened. I ordered a small book shelf, a floor-length reading lamp, a small high quality wooden kitchen table and chairs, then tried several of their beds. I settled for the firmest rock-hard mattress and box spring set that I could find in queen size--which matched the old set so that I wouldn't have to buy linens again. They agreed to deliver everything that afternoon for twenty bucks. I picked up a sheet of plywood from the lumber yard to place between the box spring and the mattress to firm it up a bit more. I didn't need anything else from town so I returned home. The deed for my place included some 20 acres of land that had been cleared and put under cultivation. I wanted that land plowed, fertilized and planted in wheat. Later I would design a vegetable garden as well but for now life itself was enough. You can't GET good summer tomatoes around here, dammit!

I found that my address was considered rural and telephones just weren't available to rural addresses in northern Michigan at that time. I spent some time at the bank with a financial planner going over my financial options but came to no real satisfactory decision. I enquired about how unusual it was to have gold certificates. I found that they were moderately rare and made arrangements to have them converted to gold specie at a U.S. mint and shipped to me for deposit. That rang a bell with me. I produced the anonymous little key from my keychain and presented it to the banker which got a reaction. It seems that I had a large safety deposit box at that institution. It was quite heavy and the cart conveying to the office for me left ruts in the carpet. I found it to be half full of gold tightly-fitted gold bars. Now this was a foot wide by two feet deep heavy gauge steel box twelve inches high. Six inches by twelve inches by twenty four inches is roughly a cubic foot of gold. later doing the math I found that I'd come across a cache of 1905 pounds of gold. It seems that I'd been anticipated at every step. Still, at 35.5 dollars per ounce at current valuation it was worth $682,573.77 ... which was a fraction of what my bank account held, a bit less than one percent. What the hell, let's let it ride. Gold can't do anything but rise in price. According to what I remember the price of gold versus the dollar will exceed the return of any conventional banking instrument over the next twenty years. I wonder if the Hunt brothers silver kerfluffle will go down in this here-and-now? Speaking of, I'd better get my little butt busy and buy into IBM and Bell Telephone before the transistor comes out of Bell Labs. Let's watch for Fairchild Semiconductor too. They created the first IC, and later the 741 op-amp at their peak and ruled the market. Later I'd look into Texas Instruments, Intel and --what was the name of that glass company? Oh, yeah ... Corning.