Chapter 13

The fairs usually were not a bad place to meet girls, and several of us had some fun out of that. The problem was that we hardly ever stayed close to the fairgrounds, since the motels and tourist cabins were pretty well booked up years in advance, so we had to stay over in the next county, or even farther away. That made the logistics of having a little fun with a honey a little more difficult, although not totally impossible. Sometimes that Ford of mine had that "whorehouse on a busy Saturday night" smell to it, and I wasn't the only one to blame.

Although Carnie had been a good friend back on Okinawa and in Japan, I hadn't really had much of a chance to talk to him since I joined up with the MMSA. Oh, I saw him several times, but there was never much of a chance to talk; mostly he had to spend time coordinating plans with Frank, going over arrangements, and then getting back on the road to try and stay ahead of us. I suppose it was a lonely and hectic life for those months, but he seemed to get along with it all right. Now that we saw him every day, and sometimes two or more days in a row was payback time for him, how he made up for all the running around out west. We got several chances over the next couple months to sit back, have a couple beers, and renew our friendship.

One time Carnie and I were sitting in some church or Grange's food tent some place. It could have been most anyplace because at this distance everything seems run together and is pretty much the same. We'd walked over from where we were setting up in the infield, and to get to the food tent we'd had to pass through the midway. Of course Carnie had to stop and shoot the shit with people he knew, so it took us a while to get to the food tent and sit down to that wonderful home cooked fried chicken or whatever it was. "You sure seem at home around this place," I commented.

"Hell," Carnie replied. "To me, this is home. Until I got caught up in the Army the only home I ever knew was around carnivals and carnival people. I never knew who my real daddy was and I don't think my mother was real sure about it. She worked in a girl show until after she got pregnant with me, and then worked in a flat joint, you know, a game booth. I really was born in a tent in the back of a flat joint, and the first smell I ever smelled was sawdust and candy floss. I was taking money off of marks in a three card Monte game or a shell game at the age of six. So, yeah, this is home to me."

"You want to go back to running with carnivals some time?" I asked.

"Not really," he said. "Oh, I suppose I will if I have to but I don't particularly want to. It can be a good life, but if there's anything I learned in the Army it's that it's not the only life. Hell, you know that. Do you want to go back to Nebraska and be a farmer again?"

"Not on a bet," I told him. "I've tried to be careful with spending my money, and I've been saving what I can, but I'll bet that I've earned more money this summer than my father has all year. And, I've seen a heck of a lot more and done a heck of a lot more than he could have ever dreamed of. I don't suppose I'll keep doing this forever because I can see how the travel could get to be a real pain in the ass, so I suppose after a while I'll find a place to teach, then settle down and have a family."

"That's about how I look at it," he nodded. "This is a good gig, but it probably won't last forever. The travel is really getting to be a pain in the ass, even though I like it, but I can see the day coming when a home and a family and a regular job are going to look pretty good to me. This swing is taking the sting out of the travel quite a bit, being able to be around friends like you and Frank and Spud. See, when you're with a carnival, friends don't last real long, just till the season is over, sometimes not even that long, and the next thing you know you're with another bunch of carnival people. It's the same thing, but it's different. I know a hell of a lot of carnival people, sure. I grew up with them, after all. But I'll tell you what, Mel, there's not hardly a one of them that I'd trust to hold my wallet if I was to get in a fight. I grew up watching my back, and I want to get away from that about like you wanted to get away from a Nebraska farm."

"Yeah, I can see that," I agreed. "I've met a few nice people but I think there would be limits."

"It's even worse when people look at you and don't think you can be trusted," he sighed. "I'm used to it, but it can be tough. Right from the beginning, clear back on Okinawa, Frank has trusted me to do the job he asks of me, to do what has to be done to get what he wants done. I don't feel like I'm working for Frank, I feel like I'm working with Frank, and there's a big difference."

I had never heard it put quite that way, but I realized he was right. Sure, I got paid every week, and it was Frank doing the paying. But I always felt like I was working with Frank, for the good of the show, to try and make everything work out the best for everyone. It was a team effort, working together for the good of the whole. "I think I understand," I replied. "In a carnival, everyone is still working for themselves."

"That's it in a nutshell," he nodded. "Like I said, I think the Army gave me a little different perspective on things, and I suppose I'm not the only person that learned that in the Army. Frank ran his shop fast and loose but he got the job done. Don't get me wrong, I thought you did a good job when you took over the section, but I always sort of felt like you were filling for Frank."

"Well, I sort of felt that way, too," I told him. "God, that seems like a long time ago, but it really wasn't, was it?"

"Five years," he shrugged. "I kind of rattled around for a while trying to find a place to fit in until Frank came along. I've done pretty well, both working with him and a little on the side here and there. I don't know where I'm going to wind up, but I don't think it's going to be some carnival."

"I can't see me being a race driver forever, either," I agreed. "I don't think I'm quite ready to settle down in some high school yet, but I don't think I'll mind when the time comes. I think I'll be happy to just find some girl and settle down to raise a family."

"The thing that worries me is that the wild goose bit me in the ass when I was just a little tyke," he smiled. "It's going to be hard as hell to settle down in one spot and think that I'm going to pretty much have to stay there. I think the racing bug has bitten you in the ass, and I think you're going to have a hard time getting away from it."

I know I thought an awful lot about that discussion for quite a while after that. Yeah, I enjoyed the racing, but I figured that I'd get my fill of it sooner or later and go on to the next thing. The same thing with the travel – I really liked it, I loved to see new country, meet new people even if I didn't always get to know them very well. There was always something new and exciting over the next hill, and always seemed to be something new and interesting outside the car window as I drove down the highway. But I figured the day would come when I'd get tired of that, too, and be looking to settle down.

But I liked what I was doing and planned on staying doing it for a while, unless something unexpected happened – and there was always the possibility of that happening, of course.

Something unexpected could always happen. I mean, look at Chick – the clear cut, hands down all-time MMSA champion pussy hound. He picks up a strange piece for a one night stand in a nowhere town in Texas, and that was all she wrote. One time along in the middle of the fair season we were playing down in Indiana. We had a short jump that day; when we were at breakfast, with all of us together in some little greasy spoon, Chick and Hattie got up and said, "Before we get on the road, we'd like all of you to come down to the courthouse with us. We understand that they don't have a waiting period in Indiana, so we're going to get married."

I don't think that really surprised any of us very much, although I think if anyone had to bet they would have bet on them waiting until the end of the season. It turned out that Hattie was pregnant, and in fact had been for a while but had just realized it. I figured out afterward that they'd decided they wanted to get married quick so the kid would be as legitimate as possible – that was a big deal back in those days.

So we all followed them over to the courthouse in whatever little Indiana town it was, waited around while they got the license and then watched as the local judge tied the knot. I don't think that there was a one of us looking on that would have been willing to bet that the two of them would last more than a year, but it was their doing and so long as they were happy with it I guessed it didn't matter.

I'll jump way ahead of the story here to say that we were all dead wrong; a few years ago I went to Chick and Hattie's fiftieth anniversary party; they had a bunch of kids and grandkids, and from what I could see had a good life together. She was still a good looking woman and still had a smile on her face – and was still happy that Chick had taken her out of Floydada with only the clothes on her back.