The next day dawned bright but cold. All the windows had frost crystals lacing the glass panes. It was inordinately bright in the cabin because of the sun reflecting off the snow coming in the windows, also. The frost acted as a diffuser to spread the light everywhere.
We began our morning routines. One good thing about Mom not being here: there was no line at the outhouse. We just walked to the edge of the porch and added a little yellow to the snow. Everywhere else, the snow sparkled in the bright sun.
Pa asked, “Which of you is the best mechanic? Mrs. Corrigan has that old car parked in her barn. I would like to see if we can borrow it for the price of getting it to go.”
Both Sam and I volunteered to see about the car. “While you are there,” Pa added, “see if she can find out if the address in Bokoshe is a valid home address of Mr. Jeremiah Bois D’Arc or Bowdark. Use either spelling or anything close.”
“Pete, that leaves you to go to Hackett to their Post Office. I want you to rent a post office box in the name of William Neighbors. That’s your uncle’s name and he might need the box for information about your mother. We might need it too.”
“Let me know the box number as soon as you can, Pete.”
Pete put on his boots and warm socks.”Yuck,” he said, “One of my socks is not dry and it feels sticky and cold.”
“Don’t worry.” I told him, “Both of them will need drying again tonight. Make sure you don’t freeze anything important.” I joked.
Pete started his trudge off in the snow. The extra cold snow squeaked with each step and the sound faded away as he vanished into the distance.
I went out to the barn and collected some basic tools. “Pa, we are gonna need some gasoline and oil for that buggy,”
“I got two gallons of white gasoline for cleaning parts.” Pa reported. “Oil might be a problem. I only have two quarts.” I gathered up the gas can and oil jars. We headed down to Mrs. Corrigan’s farm and post office to see what it would take to breathe life into her flivver.
The two of us were gathered on her porch in the bright, bright sunlight. When Mrs. Corrigan came to the door, she said, “Oh my! Boys, I was so sorry to hear about your mother. Is there anything I can do?”
“Yes, Ma’am. Pa would like us to ask if we might borrow your car. In return we will get it running for you and fill it with gasoline and anything else it might need.” My yes. You are welcome to use the car. It not that it doesn’t run, it is just that one wheel is off. Just a second. Kevin!!” She hollered for her son. “Kevin dear, take these young gentlemen to the barn and show them your father’s automobile. Help them to get it going for the road.”
Kevin was delighted! He had been told not to mess about with the car. When we saw it, we understood what she meant. There was a dusty old Reo Sedan with one rear wheel off and a sawyer’s kit attached with a long flat belt to a wide pulley where the rear wheel should go. “Pa was a sawyer until the pine trees were all gone. Now there is nothing left around here but wood too hard and knarled to feed into the saw. “ Kevin said indicating the huge 36 inch saw blade and the steel wood guides that would let an 18 inch board be sawn from a trunk of that diameter.
“Will it start?” I asked Kevin.
“It did last summer,” he said.
I tried to slide the wide belt off the wheel pulley, but it was too tight for me to budge.
Kevin said, “The blocks it sits on are wedged to keep the belt tight.” He retrieved a wooden mallet and knocked a wooden wedge off the front frame and the belt relaxed a little. Two more wedges removed put a noticeable sway into the belt length. I was able to slide the belt a little, but was still unable to remove it. Kevin said, “We need to remove the rear pulley before we can get the belt loose. We also need to unhook the hand brake for the saw and re-hook the hand brake in the car.” I could see what he meant. This system used the car’s own rear brake as a brake for the saw blade. A long cable ran under the car from the saw operator’s station and attached to the drum brake.
Kevin showed us where the lug wrench was. “I am not supposed to touch those nuts on the pulley, so I will let you handle that, Ike”
I took a bight on the wrench, but when I turned it, the pulley just rotated. “Kevin, can you put the brake on the saw? I need this pulley held tight to get it off.” Kevin operated the brake lever, but he was not strong enough to set it firmly. So, I went to the lever and pulled it another three clicks. I hoped that was enough. Now, I was able to loosen the five lug bolts that held the pulley in place. The pulley was catawampus as the last bolt came loose and the belt and the pulley dropped to the straw covered floor.
The wheel presented another problem. The three tires that held up the car were kept inflated. This one that was hanging on the wall of the barn was completely flat. “Do you have an air pump?” I asked Kevin.
“Sure,” he said, and he ran up to his house. Soon, he returned with a bicycle tire pump.
“Its better’n nothin’” I said. And, I set about airing up the tire for the REO. Once the tire was hard, I made a trip around the other three tires and added a little air to each to bring them up to a similar pressure. “I’ll put a pressure gauge on them when we get to a filling station.” I told Kev.
I released the hand brake and showed the other boys a trick Pa had showed me. I started each of the bolts into the wheel hub. Then putting the wrench on one bolt, I spun the wheel forward. As the wheel rotated, I held the wrench still, using it instead as a crank to spin the wheel faster and faster. Then I braced myself for the bolt to hit bottom. I held the crossbar of the wrench and the momentum of the spinning wheel socked the bolt down tight. The straining metal screeched into place. I tightened the lugs in a star pattern, repeating the rotating wheel trick four more times.
So there was the car with four wheels, but one was still off the ground. The rear axle sat on a concrete block that was firmly planted on the barn floor. “Do you have a Zack?” I asked Kev.
“Meb-be,” said Kevin. “See that hole in the concrete? My Pop uses a pipe to tip that block and to move it back and forth. Now, where did he put that cheater bar?” Kevin found the long steel tube leaned against a stud of the barn wall.
He slid the bar into the concrete, but could not lift it to move the car. Sam and I joined him in the effort, and the car tipped up and slid off the concrete block. It very slowly rolled forward until it reached the end of the slack of the saw’s brake cable.
I rolled the car back a little to get some slack in the brake cable. I crawled under the car to see how it was attached. I could not pull the cable from its anchor points. “Sam, hand me that flat screwdriver.” When I had the tool, it was easy to pry the end of the cable from the anchor point and the cable housing just fell out of its holder once the end was free.
The car’s hand brake cable had to be reattached. I looked to the left rear wheel as a guide. It really was pretty easy. The cable end attached where the saw’s cable housing was, and the cable housing attached where the saw’s cable end had been.
As I crawled out from under the car, I said, “Hey, I think we are ready to see if this thing will fire up. Let’s roll it outside though.” Pa had told me many times what poor partners gasoline and hay make. Burning down the neighbor’s barn might be bad for relations. We tested the hand brake and made sure it gripped. We opened the big double door and rolled the car out to the corral. Mrs. Corrigan’s big plow gelding looked at us curiously as it chewed his oats. The melting snow made the red clay slick.
I opened the hood and checked the oil. The car had clean oil right to the full mark on the dipstick. I rapped the gas tank with a knuckle and found the level about two thirds full. I opened the fill cap and smelled for sour gas, but it smelled alright. Finally, I checked the radiator and found it full of yellow Eveready antifreeze and water mix. Since it was not frozen and it had been so cold last night, I figured the mix was nearly perfect. The REO had an electric start. It was no surprise the battery was completely dead. All cars of that vintage had a crank starter even if they were electric start. I engaged the pawls and slowly rotated the motor to be sure it was free all the way ‘round. “Let’s give this a try.” I said. “Choke on and ignition off and one quarter throttle.” I told the anxious boys in the cockpit. “They repeated my commands back as they moved the levers. “Hand brake set and in neutral gear.” I said. I heard the clicks as they set the brake. I had already made sure the flivver was in neutral before standing in front of it. I rotated the motor until I could smell gasoline. “Ignition on,” I told them. I pulled up on the crank sharply and the engine caught, coughed twice and blew out some blue-white smoke. “That is promising,” I said.
“Ignition on,” I said in case anyone had shut it off. Again, I tried the crank. Again, the motor sputtered but ended in a ball of bluish smoke. I reengaged the crank and tried again. This time the motor continued to spin on its own, making smoke and missing as much as hitting. “Half choke,” I called out over the belching sounds. The engine began to smooth out, the smoke reduced and the speed began to increase. “One quarter choke and idle throttle,” I called. The engine began to actually sound good, hitting on all four cylinders. The speed reduced to idle. I let it warm up a little more before trying its gears.
I took the wheel. Kevin opened the corral gate. Sam was riding shotgun. We eased the little car out of the corral. The narrow wheels slipped a little, throwing red mud up on the barn wall. Once the vehicle was fully on the snowy grass, we moved pretty good up to the house. I pushed the choke completely off and set the parking brake. The car was ready to roll. Kevin had secured the gate and was running after us.
We went up to Mrs. Corrigan’s door and thanked her and Kevin for their help. “I will see about getting that battery up to snuff, Ma’am.” I added.
“Also, Ma’am, Pa would like you to check if this is a good address in Bokoshe.” Mrs. Corrigan invited us in while she checked a big book marked “Oklahoma” down its wide spine.
“I can’t tell you who lives there, but it definitely is in the range of a good address on that section of Jarvis in Bokoshe. I would say it is a good address,” she advised. The warm air in the post office felt good after working so long in the corral and barn.
“Do you have addresses for these insurance companies,” I asked anticipating Pa’s next wish. She looked in a big book named “Illinois 1” on its spine.
After a few minutes of perusal, she said, “Look at that, two different companies with almost the same address. They are in the same building just with different suite numbers. I bet they are the same company doing business under two different names.”
I wrote down the company addresses in Chicago and thanked her again. “We will take good care of your car, Ma’am.” I assured her.
Sam and I were out the door. It was not even noon yet and we had a working car.
When Sam and I pulled up in our borrowed REO, Pa came out to admire it. “Pete is here thawing out his feet. I thought you two would do the lion’s share of work, but I think he got the worst of it.” Pa said. “You two did real good.”
I told Pa about the skittish battery. He said he doubted charging it would do much good since it was frozen while it was discharged. “Shut it off,” he said. We will take it to Bokoshe after we get a little lunch and Pete is warmer. There is a fuel stop in Panama. We will fill it up there.”