Chapter 37

Oh, she wanted to go, alright. She wanted to go for a few days and then go back to school, and that wasn't exactly what Bill had in mind.

Since she didn't want to stay, Bill decided he needed a new girlfriend. Dropping back to the past and buying his supplies was simple. He didn't need any help for that. It never occurred to him that the other simple thing would be to follow the map set up by cmsix, park in the parking lot behind the restaurant and try a few dates on the watch.

So. Bill popped back in the past and pottered around in pawnshops in the 'fifties until, one day he walked into a Western Auto store. The store was chock-a-block full of 1909 Argentine Mausers and the best of the bunch ... the never been fired since the day they were made were seventeen dollars each ... with a case of boxer primed ammo made in Argentina ... case, not box. One thousand one hundred and twenty six rounds of 180 grain ball ammo included with each perfect rifle.

If you were willing to take a random draw from a barrel of 50 they were ten bucks and a case of ammo if you bought two. If you bought the barrel, they were six bucks each. Bill visited several Western Auto stores in Dallas and bought barrels of rifles until ... one day, it dawned on him ... these guys were making a profit. Just how cheap could a barrel of fifty rifles be if he could buy from the source ... fifty bucks ... a dollar a rifle and the man doing the importing was making money hand over fist!

Bill had a million dollars.

Then he started looking into sporting magazines ... that led him to Sears and Roebuck ... and their catalogue ... that led him to the American Rifleman and lo and behold ... you could buy guns through the mail ... and nobody cared. Then he found out about the CMD ... you could buy M1 Garands by the case ... and nobody cared.

No wait ... no background check ... just state you were over 18, not an ex-con and nobody cared. Rifles were available from nearly every Army base. Admittedly, the rifles were in pretty miserable condition and definitely combat issued and recovered.

Many were battlefield pick-ups ... but they cycled, fired and generally hit what they were aimed at. Most had been armorer refinished. You could also buy experimental guns if you could get to them before Aberdeen cut, crushed, or dumped them in saltwater.

The best ... the only actually ... place Bill could find that was secure storage in 1950 and 2005 was a Fur storage place ... they didn't mind storing his cases. He had his own locker and key and it was climate controlled. He paid ... figuring for inflation ... more than they thought but not as much as he knew it was going be for storage until 2006.

Now Bill needed good ID. With good ID he could buy what he needed.

'Wait... ' he thought ' ... I have good ID.' He did ... and it even gave him a background in the military. 'I can use that.'

Bill had finally slipped over to the dark side.

What Bill didn't know was the so carefully explained mental map of the Big Thicket area where Jake was supposed to be ... didn't exist. There is no Twin Bluffs Lake on the Neches River. Farm to Market 1740 is on the other side of the state.

Bill didn't know. But...

Bill wasn't stupid. So...

Bill had a better idea.

He had already spent a couple of thousand dollars on M1 Garands and a couple of thousand more on 30-06 ammo and less than a grand on barrels of Argentine Mausers and ammo. What he didn't know was whether or not the plane would go with him if he wound the watch while sitting in it. Now that he had taildragger experience he needed a tail dragger ... like a Cessna 140 ... or a 180.

Sure, people flew warbirds in the 1950's, but Bill wanted anonymity. A nice 140 would do it. There was a polished one for sale ... twelve grand. But, he could get a Cub for a lot less ... a LOT less. If he bought it in the fifties he could get one for less than two thousand ... but the 140 had a heater and seated 4 ... the Cub carried two ... and pretty much nothing else.

What Bill wanted was an airplane he could take back to the past ... one he could fly over the Big Thicket and find a 'nice place' to live. So ... Bill took a trip ... first he researched old airports. Airports still active in the fifties. There were a lot of them in Texas. He used a website, Abandoned and Little Known Airfields, to find airfields still in existence that he could use if need be. But he was banking on a dream. What the hell ... it might work.

There wasn't a lot of sense in worrying about it ... it either worked or it didn't. Fifty fifty.

Trade-a-Plane has been in business since 1937 ... nearly every newsstand carried it. Bill bought a copy and found what he was looking for.

Bill hitched a ride.

"What can I do for you, young feller?" He was old ... really old ... but, it was his plane, hangar and runway ... the term runway conjures up visions of nice flat asphalt with lights and markings. This wasn't one of those. This was a flying farmer's runway. Six foot tall corn on either side of a forty foot wide grass strip stretching fro hell to breakfast.

"Saw your ad in Trade-a-Plane."

"I put an ad in there ... Guilty as charged."

"You still got it?"

"Yup."

"Can I see it?"

"Cost ya a dollar." He gave out with one of those old man chuckles that rapidly turned into a hacking, coughing, spitting mess. When he recovered, he stuck out his hand ... Bill stuck a hundred it it.

"Got change?"

"Boy, I believe you and I are going to get along. You're the first one to actually pay me."

"It's worth it to see the look on your face ... no, no ... keep it. If I don't buy it, you can pay for lunch."

They jumped into a 'doodlebug.' A 1920's Ford cut down to a two seater ... if two apple crates can called seats. The old man started it and began grabbing levers. Over the roar of a misfiring 4 banger he spit a vile stream of tobacco juice over the side and let out the clutch. Bill could have crawled faster.