From ibmwrNoSpam@NoSpamworld.std.com Thu May 22 18:12:25 1997 From: GWBDMBNoSpam@NoSpamaol.com Date: Thu, 22 May 1997 17:26:25 -0400 (EDT) To: bmwmcNoSpam@NoSpamworld.std.com Subject: BMW: Grandad,Mule&the Thunderbird/no mc/long/1of4 Reply-To: GWBDMBNoSpam@NoSpamaol.com His freinds called him Archie and there were many. I mostly called him Sir. He was a good man but not one to show his emotions . So my memories of him are such that they could be memories of many different people. As a youngster he was difficult to figure out. And as he lived 500 miles away in the mountains of West Virginia and our trips there were few, I never really got to know this man. But still, he was the first to introduce me to motorcycles and he left me with some special moments. When you entered Archie's house there were some things you never brought in with you. His home was after all the home of the some time Methodist minister. So you never brought tobacco, alchol, playing cards or profanity into Archie's house. It was the rule. I am sure " the rule" was never violated! It was said. Out in the barn was this great machine. A two wheeled monster called Mule by Archie. It was years later before I understood Mule was a motorcycle and probably a Harley. Mule was the name Archie gave it. It just didn't matter how hard or often he kicked it, Mule just would not start until Mule was ready. "Stuborn as Mule". That's what Archie would say. And so I was taught that motorcycles can and will be stubborn. Just like Mule. I was taught patience. Every summer we would make the trip from Baldimer Md to Acrchie's house. Two weeks right smack in the middle of summer. Just as the ball games got better. Just when fishing slowed down and crabbing picked up. And always when I fell in love. It just never failed! Didn't my parents understand you can not break up summer into two parts?! It took all a kid could do to get summer cranked up just right. It required time. Could not be rushed. The summer had to run its course just like the river out back. You didn't stop the river and you didn't break up the summer. It was said. Summer of 1961 was a special summer. It was the summer that you could turn the written year around 180 degrees and it still read 1961. And I discovered this fact! It was my discovery. I was the first. I asked every one of my pals. None got it correct. They all were amazed. 1961 turned 180 degrees is still 1961. It was going to be a great summer! The summer of 1961 was also when I would turn 16, just one month after returning from Archie's house. This surely was the year when I would get to ride Mule. After all I had smoked a few smokes. I had gulped an entire beer. And I said fuck and ass hole and spent 3 different night out in the out field with Terry Foote. ( I wonder where she is ?) We never went to Archie's house that summer. My summer was not interrupted. The ball games drug on. Fishing slowed down and I got sick of steamed blue claws. And Terry, well she moved to NY. And I never got to ride Mule! Fuck! Ass hole! The summer of 1961 was the year that Dad went to Achie's house alone. Mom and I and my 2 little fucking ass hole brothers 10 and 11 years my junior stayed home. Archie had caught some thing called a stroke. And Mom and Dad argued a lot. Especially when we were asleep. That Thanksgiving we went to Archies house. That was when I learned about Mule and Thunderbirds and Ball jars filled to the top with water I was not allowed to drink. That was when I learned about old Uncle Clarence who used tobacco and was dirty and used profanity and lived "way out there" and someone we could not speak of. And that was when I learned about the Russian who lived in the basement and was Grammon's lover, as well as herds of deer in the living room. That was when I learned Archie was a cool guy after all, even to an adopted kid. But that is another story and another time. Gately From ibmwrNoSpam@NoSpamworld.std.com Thu May 22 23:02:32 1997 From: GWBDMBNoSpam@NoSpamaol.com Date: Thu, 22 May 1997 21:25:08 -0400 (EDT) To: bmwmcNoSpam@NoSpamworld.std.com Subject: BMW: Grandad,Mule&Thunderbirds/no mc/2of4 Reply-To: GWBDMBNoSpam@NoSpamaol.com The drive to Archie's house that Thanksgiving of 1961 was the best moment in my life. I could have died right then and there and I would have been happy. I was 16 and I was driving a Pontiac with a V 8 and a it had all the options. This four door beauty even had a heater and a radio and, unfortunately, an automatic transmission. But I was at the helm and Dad and Mom and Fucking Jeff and Ass Hole Daryl were all in my charge. I was"The Man". And if I could drive this Pontiac beauty with Mom and Dad and Fucking Jeff and Ass Hole Daryl, surely I could handle Mule. I headed out onto Route 40. I read the signs to Washington. I drove! I drove to Virginia and then on into West Virgina. I could drive forever! It was impossible for me to get tired. I pulled into a diner that had lots of trucks. Trucks meant good food and lots of it. I was learning the way of the road. I drove over Cheat Mountain. Dad said be carefull! "The Cheat has cheated many a man". The Cheat was no match for me that night. Years later I rode my own Mule over Cheat. And again the Cheat was no match for me. I was fucking cool. I like my new words! When we arrived in Graftin it was dark. That was good cause no one would see that Dad was at the helm. And Fucking Jeff and Ass Hole Daryl were asleep. Mom was awake but she would never tell. My secret was safe. I drove all the way! Yes! It was going to be the best Fall of my life. That morning Archie was no where to be seen and we went "way out there " to old Clarence's place. In 10 years I had never been to old Clarence's place in the Fall. It was different. Smaller? Every thing seemed a little smaller this fall of 1961. Grafton had been swollowed up by the mountains. Was that possible? It was said. Old Clarence brought out the Ball jars filled to the top with water. The men passed the jars around. Each took a big gulp much like I did my beer that summer. Each had their own special dance after the gulp. I never danced after my beer gulp? Then Dad passed the Ball jar to me. I automatically passed it to the next Man. No Dad said, it's your turn. I drank from the Ball water jar. I learned how to dance that afternoon! The men all laughted. I was being accepted. That evening and the night before Thanksgiving 1961, Achie sat in "his" chair. He seemed different to me but I was not sure how. Had this thing he caught, the stroke changed him? When you come into Archie's house there are some things you leave out side. Some things are not welcome in Archie's house. But guns, well guns were ok. For after all Archie was a hunter. A sober, smokeless, God fearing hunter who learned the parience of Job from Mule. Around 4 pm that evening Achie sat in "his" chair. Next to the gigantic radio four feet tall that no longer worked. But this evening would be different. This evening Archie yelled like I never heard him yell. ( Actually I never heard Archie raise his voice) DEER!!! God Damn DEER! Every body down! And with that Archie hit the worn carpet. Belly down. Much like you hide when one yells INCOMING. Right in the middle of the living room. In front of the 4 foot Radio that no longer worked. We had been attacked by a gigantic herd of deer. Perhaps the greatest herd of deer ever seen by man. And that herd ran straight throught Archie's house . In the front and out the back. Shitting all the way! That early evening I spent an hour picking up deer shit. Pellet by pellet until they were all pick up, according to Achie. The day had been long. We,...I drove all the way from Baldimer. We slept for several hours and went "way out there" to old Clarence's place. I drank some of Clarence's Ball jar water and learned to dance. I picked up deer droppings in the living room for an hour and now, finally, I could slip out to the barn and Mule. The barn was a bank barn and typical of the area. In the front it was gound level and in the rear it was gound level. So where was the front? I guess that depended on how you appraoched it. Like a lot of things I suppose. All in how you approach it. I went to the back / front and pushed one of the two doors side ways and slid it open. It was dark as always and smelled of hay and dirt and animals and, and swooping birds and cats. It was a place of magic to this kid from Baldimer. It was a place to hide and explore. It was also where Mule lived and, and we can not forget a new interest of mine. Archie's 1956 Chevy two door hard top V-8 with a three speed and clear plastic covers over the seats and chrome strips running across the head liner. Not to mention a radio and heater. This was going to be the best Fucking Ass Hole Fall day of my life! I was going to sit on Mule and climb into that wonderful totally perfect 1956 two door V-8 hard top Chevy with chrome strips running across the head liner. Archie sat in "his" chair next to the four foot radio that no longer worked. It was 6 pm now and I was near death. Mule was gone! So was that perfect 1956 two door hard top V-8 with plastic covers on the seats with chrome strips running across the head liners not to mention a radio and heater! Both gone! Given away to a stranger down the street. How can you give away a dream? Two dreams? This was going to be the most worstest Fall of my life! This was about the time I leaned about the Russian who lived in "Archie's" dirt floor basement. But thats another story and another time. Gately From ibmwrNoSpam@NoSpamworld.std.com Thu May 22 23:05:44 1997 From: GWBDMBNoSpam@NoSpamaol.com Date: Thu, 22 May 1997 21:45:59 -0400 (EDT) To: bmwmcNoSpam@NoSpamworld.std.com Subject: BMW: Granddad,Mule,Thunderbirds no MC 3/4 Reply-To: GWBDMBNoSpam@NoSpamaol.com It was the evening before Thanksgiving of 1961. The same year you could write the year on a piece of paper and turn the paper 180 degrees and it would still read 1961. The year I discovered. It would be the Thanksgiving that would begin to close the year of my last great summer. To be a truly great summer meant it could be ruined by interruption. If a summer was interrupted and not ruined it just was not a great summer. That was the last year that a summer could be riuned by interruption. Archie sat in "his" chair that evening. Dinner was yet another event begun with prayer. All meals were begun with prayer in "Archie's" house. Long, long prayers. Why must dinner prayers last so long? Why do dinner prayers talk about things that have nothing to do with eating? Why do prayers get longer the older you get? Why could we not say a prayer for Mule or Archie's 1956 Chevy? And why did old Clarence get mentioned every time? Clarence had nothing to do with food just Ball jars filled with Dancing Water. Prayers confused me in 1961. Archie called me to his side that evening. He had some thing for me to do. It was very important and had to be done just right. But I could not ever tell another soul. I had to promise. And if you ever promised Archie ... well that was that. That evening I spent much of the night in the dirt floor basement of "Archie's" house. A Russian lived down there and given a chance he would blow up the coal converted furnnace and then run off with Grammom. My job was to guard the furnace and keep that Russian from getting past me. Again I was the man and this time the entire family was under my protection. For the job Grandad gave me his 22 lond rifle with a scope and a scratch on the stock where I had rested it on a rock to steady my aim maybe 5 summers earlier. I never did get that Ground Hog. I rubbed the scratch just as I had done so many times before. It still would not come off. That evening I never saw the Russian and the furnance still worked in the morning. But as I waited for the Russian to appear all alone and knowing that he wouldn't, I explored the dirt floor basement for the first time. It was dark except for the light over the work bench. The work bench was old and worn with not a single sharp edge to be found any where. Jars hung from the ceiling filled with stuff, the lids nailed to the ceiling. Turn the jar and it would come free of the lid and into your hand while the lid remained. Just like over Dad's old work bench back home. In one corner was a large red fender with and Indian's head on it. Next to the fender was a seat much like the one on Mule but not exactly. But simular. Like the Indian on the fender was simular to the one on the front of the Pontiac. In another corner was a wood trunk. Inside were pictures. Lots of pictures. There were pictures of Archie in an Army uniform with one guy and 4 guys and even 40 or more. A cigar box held medals, and lots of them, just as they were on his uniform. Some were the same as Dad had back home and some would be the same as I would have in my cigar box some years later. An then I found it! A cigar box filled with the best pictures I had ever seen in my life. Even better then the pictures Mike next door snuck out of his Dad's cigar box. These were pictures of Archie on Mule dressed in learther and a learther helmet and many when he was covered in mud. And several had Archie standing next to or sitting on Mule with his huge smile and broad jawl and gigantic teeth all the while holding a Ball jar filled to the top with Dancing Water. Grandad raced Mule and could dance too! Fuck, Ass Hole, Shit,damn, Son of a Bithch!!!!!! What a great discovery. First it was 1961, then Cheat Mountain, and now this! I could die right then and there. It just was not going to get any better. At breakfast that Thanksgining morning and after the morning prayer which lasted forever Grandad looked up and winked at me. He had never done that before. I didn't completely understand why but I some how knew none the less. Almost as though he and I had camped out in the dirt floor basement in Grandad's house and sat in front of the fire talking of special things and places. Best eggs I ever ate that morning before Thanksgiving of 1961 and the day I would learn about Grandad and the Thunderbird. But that is another story for another time.