Another Chance
Copyright© 2014 by Old Man with a Pen
Chapter 28
The mount for the U-Boat Bi'nocs was a 'weld on' clamp like thingy with a stick up post. The post fit the hole in the adjustable double ended pivot of a pair of Mr. Zeiss' finest. My railing was wood. So ... Daddy is pretty good with tools ... better than me ... but he has two hands, I have only one.
A return visit to the Emporium and a unquick search of the premises disclosed a clamp on drill boring rig. Van Norman read the black riveted tag with white letters on the dusty red dirty bulky 110v motor. There was a dusty red tin box with assorted oilpaper wrapped shiny metal parts under the hinged lid that proclaimed, MotorcyclE on the blackened brass tag riveted in the top center.(M E Just like that ... in caps.)
In my solitary exploratory expeditionary quest for a drill to bore holes in the four inch square support posts, I made a secondary discovery; a freight elevator. "No Passengers" and under that, "Capacity 5 tons". The solitary hanging lightbulb, on its braided black cord, was dustily lit ... likely had been lit ... since 1915.
In the elevator was an iron wheeled wood handled dolly. I shrugged, grabbed the dolly single handed and slid the drill motor ... mostly by pushing it with my feet (Quite a Feat) ... onto the dolly. I stacked the tool box on top and squeaky squealed my way to the elevator, shut the counterweighted horizontal rattly doors and pushed the (1) down button. I raced it down the stairs. I won.
Kenny was in no mood. Since draft beer was a quarter a glass and he had spent all my quarters at the Antler ... Kenny had a head the size of a nickel balloon.
In 1955, a nickel balloon held enough helium to carry a five year old child out to sea. Three would float away his parent.
The rattle-thud-bang of a freight elevator he didn't know he owned chunk chunking its way down five floors of ancient greased side rails prompted him to say, "What in the FUCK is that?" and clutch his head.
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