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Too close for comfort OR A Halloween to remember part two 1969 Mustang versus 1969 AMC Javelin AMX Put yourself into the story! Then show your friends! This page last updated on or about late 2-23-08 a - j m o o n e y h a m . c o m - o r i g i n a l

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(Continued from PART ONE of Too close for comfort)

Unburned bridges

I soon learned of just what obstacles Dana was counting on to stop me Halloween night.

Steve hadn't been on the scene of the challenge, or he might have warned me. Although it was his garage party, as was his playboy habit he'd singled out a sweet young thing from the herd and took off with her somewhere to enjoy his conquest.

I say Steve 'might' have warned me because he might also have been terribly tempted to keep mum and see what happened.

It turned out that every Halloween night vandals would block all sorts of roads leading into and out of Traveler's Bend. Sometimes it got so bad police would block off interstate exit ramps in the vicinity too. Because otherwise lots of folks could get stranded there, causing traffic problems for the interstate itself.

Mostly the vandals would cut down trees to fall across the road. But they were known to do other things too to hamper traffic through the area.

Oh man. I could not let Dana have my car!

Fortunately I did have some cash on-hand, and thus some flexibility in preparations. I also had a bit less than two weeks though, time-wise.

I spent a few days discussing matters relating to the likely obstructions with Steve and others. I also managed to talk with a police officer who'd dealt with them personally before.

Man, did it sound like a mess! Impassable roads. Possible ambushes in various spots. Just juvenile delinquent type ambushes usually-- but sometimes worse. Maybe even police road blocks atop all the other stuff.

And no way would the cops allow through somebody just wanting to win a bet!

Sheesh!

Dana had sure set me up good here.

There was no way I could cheat and go early and hide near her home for a while either. For she was going to call me at home just prior to me setting out. If I wasn't there, I forfeited. Steve, one of Dana's buddies, and a third person deemed neutral to both would be on hand at my house to witness that Dana did indeed call as she was supposed to. And on time, so that I had the full time allotted to get to her house.

All these witnesses were available partly due to it being Halloween night, and partly because of how it seemed everyone but me had known about the regular Halloween road blocks in Traveler's Bend, and were eager to see Shadow and I get into a debacle unrelated to my dating for once.

Although most of my peers remained unaware of me and Shadow's best work, still word had started getting around about my racing and stunts with the car. Partly because of Steve's promotional efforts (I think by building me up his reputation benefited too; sorry if I'm sounding excessively cynical here Steve, but you yourself taught me to look for the 'wheels within wheels' in such matters!). And partly due to gossip started by the folks who'd rode with me.

Unfortunately the same gossip which carried the tales of me and Shadow's automotive feats also basically warned off girls from dating me, due to the scary stuff which often took place during such times. Agh!

During my challenge preparations I got hold of some maps of the region, both road maps and terrain maps, and studied them.

I decided my best shot would be to do something radical to bypass most or all the obstacles in one fell swoop. For I'd be under intense time pressures here. To check out my plan's feasibility, Steve and I made a few expeditionary trips up into the hills in the week before the main event.

We drove through Traveler's Bend, tried out some of the single lane passes through the mountains to Del Gata, as well as my proposed alternative course. And timed everything. Trying to piece together something which might work in the short time-frame Dana was going to allow.

I already owned an excellent set of tow ropes, and had used them for pulling vehicles from place to place. Now I also bought a come-along, shovel, ropes, and more, based on my discussions with various folks on the matter.

It was easy to justify these things as investments above and beyond this particular event. For Steve and I and pals at times made some money on the side from cutting cordwood (basically firewood during the winters). The tools could be handy automotive-wise too (although I had no idea such things would actually later save my life in a place a thousand miles away).

Shadow's suspension was well on its way to its ultimate state, and his roll cage essentially complete.

My final plan was a doozy. Plenty high risk. But heck, what risk was too much to keep Shadowfast?

My chosen route was also intensely interesting. At least to me. For it'd entail performing two feats for the very first time ever.

New feats of derring-do was something my bunch of male buddies was always in search of in those days. Mainly to impress one another, though. As we'd have to wait years to reveal many of the things to anyone outside our circle-- if then-- due to their often foolhardy risks, and occasional illegality. Plus, such stunts rarely seemed to impress girls like you'd expect, either. So it was primarily a male competition thing, I suppose.

The two new feats here would involve getting past some pretty onerous bottlenecks.

Fortunately I'd only have to pass through them one way, as the regular roads would surely be passable again within 24 hours or so.

But the bottlenecks were plenty formidable.

Both were bridges.

The best one was a naked railroad trestle maybe 50 or 60 yards long. Which crossed a river running some 60 feet below.

I did a test on tracks much nearer to home and it appeared Shadow could indeed traverse such a thing, albeit slowly and very uncomfortably.

I also tested out hurrying over the things in case a train happened upon me at a bad moment, and learned I might have to risk damaging my car or falling into the river if that happened. Yikes!

I tried to determine the schedule of the train runs on the bridge prior to Halloween, but couldn't manage it in any definitive way.

And I didn't have the spare time to sit around all day in the remote area to log the schedule myself.

But that wasn't the bad news. The bad news was the railroad trestle was the best of the two bridges I'd have to cross!

The worst was a structure so ancient the original roads leading to and from it were no longer even recognizable as man-made features. It was a bridge designed for carrying cars to be sure, but likely built not long after the first cars had appeared in east Tennessee. That sucker was old!

Its framework was composed of members reminiscent of but not exactly conforming to modern day (1970s) steel girders. The frame seemed solid enough. It was the roadbed that was the problem. For it was non-existent. Mere patches of the original wooden flooring remained here and there across the approximately forty yard long span. It was difficult to cross the bridge even hand to hand and foot to foot.

But to win the bet I'd somehow have to get Shadow across it.

I initially considered trying to basically rebuild the bridge floor into something good enough to support one pass by Shadow. But I quickly realized there was no way I could do that in the time left without either massive extra manpower or huge sums of cash.

So I fell back on my experience in wood cutting and hauling. And the off-roading which accompanied it. Ropes and come-alongs came to mind.

And Shadow now had an internal roll cage which seemed to offer some handy attachment points for such gear in this scenario.

If I could successfully cross the two bridges-- at night-- I basically had the bet won. For that course would allow me to bypass completely all the usual roadblocks and ambushes and whatever else went on along the normal routes on Halloween night.

In our on-foot survey Steve and I had walked across the railroad trestle. It seemed the trestle had replaced an automobile bridge at that spot, as on the far side the grown up contours of an ancient road branched off from the vicinity of the trestle towards the old dilapidated bridge beyond (then soon disappeared altogether). So we were able to walk to that bridge and clamber about on it too. But I didn't do any rehearsal with Shadow across these structures, as I figured it'd be strenuous enough just to do it once.

Early on I'd thought maybe the trestle would have a mate crossing the second river too somewhere, thereby allowing me to avoid the run-down old car bridge altogether. But the railway didn't cross the critical second river anywhere nearby. Instead it turned towards North Carolina.

Steve and I had followed the railway's path for a while in the hopes it'd cross the second river, but if it did it was too far for us to find it on foot that day. And all our maps of the region were possibly too old to show if the railway eventually made such a crossing either. So I was stuck with the Model T bridge for my second leg.

I could sure have used Steve or someone else's help for the Model T crossing. But that would have been a lot to ask of anybody. Especially since after crossing I'd immediately want to dump them off somewhere before arriving at Dana's, and the schedule might be too tight to be choosy about the dump location.

Plus Steve had more pleasurable plans for his Halloween evening than struggling to get a car across two rivers without a paddle.

Besides the other gear described before, I also made sure to have not one but several flashlights and extra batteries for the night.

Back in those days though all we had were plain carbon batteries I believe. None of the alkaline or other fancy super long-lived energy stores that'd be available in 2005.

I was getting awfully antsy the last couple days before Halloween. Fretting over my preparations, making tweaks here and there.

Then I made an unexpected discovery. Dana's necklace! Inside Shadowfast! It'd slipped down into a hidden spot in the metal of the floorboards between the seats, where a slight lip or overlap made it invisible at anything but a particular angle or line of sight.

It possessed an extremely fine chain, with an itty bitty locket as centerpiece. It was all silver. My examination revealed a broken fastener for the chain. At least it seemed to be so. Everything was so tiny I wasn't entirely certain.

Something compelled me to immediately run it down to a jeweler pal of me and Ben's who worked in what was primarily a furniture store downtown. Ben and I had often stopped by his place to shoot the breeze about coin collecting and such before I'd met Steve and gotten more into racing.

(Ben was another friend of mine who'd attended the same rural elementary school as Dana and I; Ben and I had hung out quite a bit together in my freshman and sophomore high school years)

I lucked out in several ways that day. One, Leonard wasn't busy at the time. So he got right on the job of repairing the necklace. He also said it'd be easy, and no charge! Yay! So only a little over an hour after I'd brought it in I was able to leave with it again.

In his examination of the necklace for any further work which might be required, Leonard opened the itty bitty locket. There turned out to be a little piece of old paper in there, all folded up into a tiny speck to fit inside the miniscule metal container.

Leonard used some of his jeweler's tweezers to carefully unfold the paper scrap as I looked on.

It gradually dawned on me what it was. A piece cut out of a comic book page. Barely big enough to contain the name scrawled on it by a child many years before, to whom writing was still more art than science.

"Jerrys"

It was my name. For a short while I'd branded my comic books with it (the missing apostrophe showed I didn't yet have my punctuation nailed down regarding possession). In second grade I'd given a slim stack of my most highly prized comics to Dana. This little scrap had to be from one of the pages of those books.

Leonard didn't say anything about it. Just carefully folded it back up with his probe and tweezers and placed it back where it belonged.

It felt odd to see the scrap. Knowing Dana always wore that necklace around her neck. And had ever since her grandmother gave it to her.

But she wasn't the only one with such a keepsake. Unknown to Dana, I had a thin ribbon which had once come loose from her hair when we were kids. I'd been in no hurry to return it to her because I'd thought there'd be plenty of time.

Then suddenly her parents had moved away with virtually no warning, and she seemed gone forever. A little while into her absence I'd begun treating the ribbon more reverently, keeping it as a bookmark in whatever book I was reading at the time. Sometime after that I'd grown concerned I might lose track of it, or it was getting too worn or dirty in its present usage, and so tucked it away instead in a hidden spot within a piece of furniture where I kept my comics collection.

The stout dark varnished assembly had once been a combination phonograph player and record shelves, with the machine usually hidden in deep chambers in the top of the boxy structure. By the time I was school age though the big mechanical phonograph and its records were long gone, leaving the cabinet's cavernous storage space available for other purposes like hiding my comics collection. The open shelves below the hideaway compartment by then held the family encyclopedia set.

One day I stepped off the school bus to discover to my horror my mom had burned all my comics.

Living in the country as we were, we regularly burned much of our trash rather than hauling it off.

I admit she'd warned me numerous times that I was too sloppy in how I kept them. And that sooner or later she'd get rid of them if I didn't change my ways.

Plus, of late my collection had begun to overflow from all my various storage spaces. To the point I had stacks all over the bedroom I shared with my brothers.

So that was the day my precious comics collection went up in smoke.

Yes, the burning of my comics was painful. But Dana's ribbon had been housed along with them!

I'd raced to the old phonograph stand certain that my whole life had now vanished. My comics. And my last memento of Dana.

But Dana's ribbon turned out to still be there. Still safe, where I'd slid it underneath a wooden ledge deep inside the cabinet.

My comics were no more. But I still had Dana's ribbon.

I guess my mom figured she'd overestimated my fondness for my comics, when my response to their burning was much more subdued than she'd expected.

I never told her about Dana's ribbon.

For days after that I obsessed towards determining a safer place to keep the ribbon. I tried several different spots, but all fell short.

I finally found a way to secrete it securely inside my bike frame, and there it stayed. Until Dana's return.

Nowadays I kept Dana's ribbon in my wallet. Not far from my picture of Sue Anne. And my one and only photo of Shadowfast, taken before I'd hardly done anything at all to him.

And no-- Dana didn't know I had the ribbon. Didn't know how I'd stubbornly clung to it during her year long absence. Didn't know it continued to hold sentimental value for me even today.

Dana didn't know I had her ribbon. And I'd pretend I didn't know she had my name on an old scrap of paper in her favorite locket.

I don't know if discovering the scrap had anything to do with it, but Leonard also gave me a really nice looking plush case for Dana's necklace to rest in.

The found and repaired necklace would make a great surprise gift for Dana Halloween night. If she didn't win my car, I mean. Agh!

Halloween night Dana called at the appointed time, and the witnesses were there. Then they weren't, all dispersing to the four winds for various Halloween events.

Me of course, I was going hiking. With my car. In the dark. And alone.

That's not what I told my parents, though. No, I told them I was going to run around with Steve some for a while that night, and after that we'd probably stay very late-- or even all night-- at his garage in town, or maybe his home in Traveler's Bend.

I had to race up to Del Gata as fast as I dared in order to allow myself all the time I could muster for the Model T crossing.

Del Gata was another major boondocks portion of my home county. Located on the opposite side of some mountains from Traveler's Bend. The remote bridges connected Del Gata and Traveler's Bend.

Keep in mind there were also some obscure single lane back roads and related bridges which did the same. But those were usually blocked just like the main interstate access. And even easier to block than the interstate side.

Sure, I might have lucked out by randomly checking those back roads and by chance discovered an open one. But the historical stats were against that. And if I did such a check and found no opening I'd lose for sure. For there'd be no time left for doubling back to try the two bridge gambit then.

It took me about 35 minutes to get from the house to the railroad trestle-- and I was really booking it on the state highway portion. Scaring more than a few other drivers along the way, as my headlights flashed by them at horrendous speed. The river below the railway bridge was loud with rushing water. Although I couldn't see the water in the dark, I could remember it well enough from my previous daylight survey. I knew I had a clear view backwards along the railway for maybe a quarter mile or so. No threatening lights were apparent. But ahead I knew I could barely see past where the bridge reached the opposite side. For the railway turned soon after passing between some steep rock walls. Any visual warning of an approaching train would be of a faint and indirect nature there. If I got any warning at all. The roar of the river made it impossible to hear much sign of a coming train either. I sure wished I knew the train's schedule. Shadow clambered over a set of the double rails, and we began our painfully slow trek over the bridge.

Not your typical Halloween night drive.

It felt like playing slow motion hopscotch with an army tank-- as Shadow's tires ka-thunked! ka-thunked! through the long series of railroad ties.

I'd considered trying to ride atop the rails themselves with my wide tires. But there were lots of potential problems with that. The scariest possibility was accidentally dropping one or both tires on one side in-between a narrowly spaced set of the bridge's double rails-- and getting stuck there. Yow! Because for some reason there were four rails on the bridge, rather than the expected two.

This meant I couldn't center Shadow on the bridge either, but had to choose a side to drive on. In order to avoid driving atop the rails.

I chose to drive on the right side. For as that was the side I had to mount the bridge from anyway, it reduced how many rails I had to cross to get started.

It also gave me some manuevering room on the driver's side of the car in case I had to abandon Shadow in an emergency: I'd actually have somewhere to put my feet if I exited the car.

Of course, the large gap between individual ties meant your foot and leg could easily plunge crotch deep towards the river below with any mis-step. And even with Shadow's headlights on, the lighting beside the car was awfully dim where assuring good footing was concerned.

That gap was strongly emphasized by every ka-thunk! Shadow's wheels made from one open space to the next.

I couldn't help but wince at the first dozen or so ties we crossed. But then I got distracted by other factors.

Like how high above the river the bridge was. And how narrow it was. And how I could see nothing but the bridge in my headlights immediately ahead. Beyond that there was only blackness.

If a train appeared too suddenly and I had to evacuate fast, there wasn't anything else I could do but open the door and fall into the river. Smash blindly into the rocks there, breaking my bones. Then slip into the raging black waters to drown.

For it'd take some time to navigate the ties with a flashlight to reach the shore. And you definitely didn't want to get stuck crotch-deep inbetween two ties, with a train fast bearing down on you...!

Yeah, maybe I would have first tried to go into reverse and hopped madly backwards over the trestle back to land. But I was dead certain I wouldn't make it. And instead accidentally run off the trestle and fall into the river, car and all.

Suddenly this adventure didn't seem so engaging anymore.

The regular clunk, clunk of each tie we crossed began sounding to me like the hoof beats of a giant horse. A giant horse, choosing its steps very carefully.

The last two thirds of the bridge seemed the worst. For before I fantasized that if a train appeared, I might somehow rapidly exit the car, and then make a frantic dash for land over the ties without inadvertantly plunging a leg into the gaps in-between. Even if I had no light by which to see where I was stepping. But once we were far enough out over the river, that seemed less and less feasible.

I got to feeling awfully lonely and exposed rising and falling over those ties out there in the middle of nothingness.

I began imagining I could hear a train approaching over the sounds of the river.

It was easy to see behind me that nothing was there. But sure enough if a train came from ahead I might get almost zero warning.

Besides the noise of the river, inside Shadow I also had the noise of his exhaust to contend with. For I'd removed all the sound deadening insulation there. And still had no new rear interior installed. Just bare metal back there, with various equipment necessary for this particular mission strewn about.

I felt like we were a gear wheel in a giant clock, our teeth enmeshed within others, as the clunk, clunk of our journey repeated again and again.

Time stretched out endlessly as we seemed to barely make any progress at all across the trestle.

I could see how it'd be easy for somebody to panic out here.

But finally, at last, we made the other side. We couldn't leave the rails just yet though. It was necessary to reach the bend to get to where the old road diverged from the track way.

So the clunk, clunk continued on for a spell. But at least we were back over land again! And I could just jump out if needed, with no danger of falling through the darkness onto unseen rocks. And then drowning, if the fall itself didn't kill me.

Uh oh. Shadow seemed to be developing a miss or shudder as I revved him just enough to climb over each succeeding tie. I wondered if I'd damaged his suspension crossing the trestle. Or maybe I was developing an engine problem now-- in almost the worst possible time and place.

Man! It'd be bad if I had to walk out to get repair parts!

But then I realized the shudder was getting too strong for it to be suspension or engine related at these speeds.

I sped up a little and got punished for it with much rougher pogo-stick-like jumps up and down. But I had no choice.

For I could literally feel the train a coming!

Just as we reached the nearest spot between the rock walls we could get off the tracks and onto regular ground again, I beheld one of the most horrifying sights of my life: the intimidatingly tall face of a diesel locomotive, traveling towards us at around 50 mph around a bend, only some 80 feet away and closing fast.

I almost froze up in sheer terror. Looking back on it now it's amazing my butt didn't bite a chunk out of my seat.

Trains are a lot taller than you expect when you face them head on and close up. It looked like a three or four story building rushing at me.

I couldn't see any people onboard. Heck, I could barely see the towering silhouette of the monster bearing down on me at all. Because I was well blinded by its awful spotlight. The glow of my headlights seemed suddenly not much better than candles by comparison.

I steered Shadow off the tracks just as quickly as I could. One rear wheel actually spun on the slick metal rails for a heart-stopping moment.

It didn't help that I had to do all this mostly by feel alone. For the train light was just too strong. Almost all I could see was a terrific glare ahead of me.

But even off the tracks we were still in danger. For the train was wide and the clearance here between the near vertical rock wall and the tracks too narrow. I could see just well enough to realize the danger.

We had to get farther up the way instantly or get crushed between the mountainside and the train!

I floored Shadow as soon as we were clear of the tracks. Or maybe sooner. I don't know. I was scared!

Shadow's rear wheels spun somewhat uselessly in the gravel lining the railway.

The mighty noise of the train engine or movement on the tracks or both (I'm unsure exactly which) was deafening here, between the rock walls. Echoing, reverberating. My ears hurt. My eardrums pulsated in my head.

I believed I could see sharp corners of the train coming towards us at awful speed as we rushed to either meet our doom or dodge it.

Shadow was sporting street tires rather than off-road, so there was lots of spinning going on. And some fish-tailing too-- which might get us caught on a corner of the train and pulled back into the rock chasm we were trying to escape.

I couldn't believe how far out from the tracks the train's sides seemed to extend. With our present squeaks of clearance though just twelve inches was monstrous.

Awful squealing, scraping, and grinding sensations filled my senses, as we fought to shoot the gap. I feared we were caught, and about to be dragged backwards into a diesel powered meat grinder.

Then the clearance between Shadow and the train widened, and I was able to let off the gas.

The huge train was still close and moving past. But we no longer seemed to be in danger.

I stopped the car, my heart in my throat. Had we actually made it?

It seemed we had.

But the damage...!

The horrendous wrack, clack noise of the passing train was still overpowering this close to the transport. But I felt I had to inspect Shadow's damage.

At least my door opened OK.

I got out and winced as I looked at the side of my car, to see...

Nothing. There was no apparent damage! What the hell?

I reached back into the car to get a flashlight, as my night vision was still suffering from the train's glare, making my headlights seem like lonely matches in the darkness.

Sure enough, the tiny, feeble spot of my most powerful flashlight didn't reveal any train-inflicted damage either.

I ran around to the other side. For maybe I'd scraped the rock wall trying to avoid the train. But it was the same story. Not even a dent.

Well, no new dents.

I couldn't believe it! But it seemed all the noise had just been normal moving sounds of the train itself.

Wow!

I let out a huge sigh of relief. Then nearly jumped out of my skin, as it felt like God himself yelled at me from on high. WOOOAAANNNHHH! Every muscle in my body jerked at once in utter terror, as I was physically staggered by the force of an awful and wholly unexpected blast of sound.

The train had blown its ear-splitting whistle. And the immense sound had been amplified further by the close rock walls of the passage.

Oh man! That had hurt me all over!

It'd been so loud you could feel your bones vibrate in response!

But I had no time to recover.

This had been the easy part of my trek, I remembered.

Sheesh!

What the hell was I doing? Was I stupid, or what?

Then my libido jumped in to remind me of why I was doing all this. Dana. And her promise.

I also reminded myself I was now halfway through the only important bottlenecks on this side of the mountain.

Fortunately, no major foliage growths had appeared on the ancient road since it was abandoned. Apparently because sunlight rarely made it down here in-between the steep surrounding hills and forest canopy.

We motored without incident through the woods to the Model T crossing.

I was getting a bad feeling about this.

Bet you never drove your car over something like this!

The creaky old bridge with its many missing pieces looked much worse tonight than when Steve and I had checked it out in daylight. Once again, a bridge and I seemed suspended in darkness, as all my lights didn't seem to reach very far. It reminded me of the plays they showed on TV Sunday afternoons. The name of the show was something-theater I think. The show's sets would often consist of furniture bathed in light but surrounded by absolute darkness. I guess so the production crew wouldn't have to construct walls. I'd have liked to have pre-strung some ropes and things across the bridge days before. But I was afraid someone would just steal all the gear before I could use it. So I had a big job to do now. Basically I had to cock my car up on its side in order to use one side wall of the bridge structure in combination with the fixtures at the foot meant to support the original roadbed. I'd brought with me a wheel ramp to help me get Shadow started up the side of the bridge frame. And some sections of inch thick plywood trimmed as little as possible from their original eight feet long by four feet wide sheet dimensions my trunk opening and near gutted interior would accept: the biggest I could haul inside Shadow, now that I'd removed the heavy metal plate and various other components separating the passenger compartment from the trunk. It was easiest to move the panels in and out via the opened trunk itself.

I had two such plywood panels, figuring to use them in hopscotch fashion across the steel girder-laced side wall of the bridge.

I'd drilled tie off holes in the corners and along the sides, and prepped the holes as best I could to reduce fraying of any lines running through them under stress.

I had to carefully position the panels against the steel framework of the bridge side and securely tie them off.

I then pulled out some slack from my come-along, climbing up and attaching the far end to a good point high on the bridge's steel frame. The end with the handle I attached to Shadowfast's roll cage, near where it was welded to the interior roof on the passenger side.

Yes, it would have made things easier in many ways to cross the bridge on the left side rather than the right. Only problem was the left side looked far more dangerous.

I ended up having to change the position of the come-along cable a couple times to get the right angle on the first pull. But eventually I was able to cautiously use the come-along to provide Shadow's passenger side with the altitude required for it to tilt for crossing the bridge. With help from the wheel ramp too of course.

The way I thought of it was like providing Shadow his own spider web-like extensions via come-along to help him crawl across the vertical framework of the bridge.

And a crawl it was. Painstakingly placed plywood panels prevented those of Shadow's wheels otherwise suspended in air from getting stuck between steel girders, while Shadow's main weight rested on the steel framework which had once supported the outside edges of the bridge's floor-- a floor which seemed to have originally consisted at least partly of great wooden planks.

In some spots portions of the ancient planks still remained, and Shadow would have to roll up onto one end, then down off the other when it ran out, like they were steps in an automotive stairway. Single level steps here and there, just above the steel framework.

Whenever we engaged such a plank that way, I worried the whole time it might be rotten enough to mash down exactly the wrong way to make one of my wheels slip off, and cause us to plunge into the river-- or else be left hanging precariously by the strength of my tow ropes and come-along, alone. Maybe in a way I'd be hard-pressed to correct.

Luckily, that particular snafu didn't happen.

My second plywood panel sometimes came in handy for Shadow's lower-most wheels. But mostly I used it for the highest track. And prayed I wouldn't discover I'd underestimated the number of panels which might be required simultaneously at some point across the span.

Help with man-handling the boards was what I would most have liked having a buddy like Steve around for. But still it was a manageable job for one guy. Barely. It got tougher as the crossing slogged through repetition after repetition.

Despite being on a deadline, I tried not to rush the process. For one bad move and I could get stuck. Or worse, plunge into the river below.

As I neared the far end of the bridge my luck started running out. I hadn't brought enough batteries. I accidentally dropped one of my flashlights in the river, and almost fell in myself.

Although there was practically no wind elsewhere that night, a slight breeze seemed to constantly blow over the river itself. When that breeze unexpectedly gusted even a small amount at the wrong moment (as I was holding a big and heavy plywood panel like a sail, for instance) I had problems!

But the worst thing was Shadow ran out of gas.

No, I hadn't pulled a bone-headed error like mounting this mission with less than half a tank of gas. The problem was I had Shadow cocked up on one side at such a drastic angle for so long he lost some gas out his gas cap from the back, and the pick up tube in the bottom of the tank started sucking on air.

That possibility in my scheme simply had not occurred to me beforehand.

Shadow had continued to run for a while on what he had in his 20 foot or so long fuel line and carb reservoir. But eventually that ran dry too. Or vapor locked on me. I'm not sure exactly.

And it probably didn't help matters that the carb floats weren't designed to run at this angle. Or the whole motor, for that matter. Engine oil leaked out a few spots, running down on the headers and causing smoke which reduced my visibility and caused me to cough and my eyes to water from time to time due to the fumes. Plus the fumes were strong at the back from the gas which had escaped from my fuel tank cap too.

But running out of gas was the very worst thing. For I'd been using the engine to push us across, the rear tires biting into either or both the bridge framework and secured plywood panels.

Luckily by then we were basically done, just needing to climb down off the bridge wall and get horizontal again. But we'd lost our motive power. And I was pretty sure I couldn't push Shadow the rest of the way, judging from how much power I'd had to apply from the engine itself in our tentative steps across the waterway.

It took me a few minutes to figure out what to do and then set up for it.

I tried to position everything for an un-powered quickie dismount from the bridge back to terra firma.

Basically I used the come-along to pull Shadow free of the vertical support and let gravity propel him the rest of the way over every prop I could provide to smooth the course. I also had Shadow in neutral and all brakes off during the maneuver. Although the come-along cable itself was too short to reach a good anchor off the bridge on its own, I was able to extend its reach with my tow ropes.

The built-in stretchiness of the tow ropes offered their own annoyances, but eventually I got it all to work.

Of course I had to steer the car too during our dismount from the bridge. Which was tricky and scary, as I couldn't be belted in at the time. The reason? I had to work the come-along out the passenger side window, while basically standing on the inside of the driver's door and seat until we started rolling, and then drop back in and grab the steering wheel as fast as I could. And hope the increasing slack in the come-along cable would be enough not to cause problems afterwards.

I endured several false starts, too.

I finally got all Shadow's wheels back on level ground again, and figured I'd retrieve all my gear while I considered how to get him primed.

But that plan was dashed when I noticed what time it was. Yikes!

I didn't have time to retrieve anything more than the come-along and tow ropes. Everything else would have to wait.

I'd had to use my headlights to see what I was doing even after the motor died. So I'd been using up precious battery juice on the final stretch of the bridge.

I'd also lost some battery fluid from the long period spent at such an extreme sideways angle. But I wouldn't realize that for another day or two.

I shut off the headlights now and tried doing everything by feel (my remaining flashlights were nearly useless).

I located my can of starter fluid. Raised the hood, removed my air cleaner. Tried to put all the components somewhere I wouldn't lose them or knock them flying into the darkness.

I had my driver's side door open for quick access.

I sprayed a shot into the carb's throat and then raced around the door to jump in and crank the motor.

It briefly fired and turned over several times. But didn't start.

I repeated the process.

I had to get the motor to suck the fuel line full of gas again before Shadow could actually start.

Too bad I didn't have a remote starter button under the hood, I thought. For inevitably much of the highly volatile starting fluid would evaporate away into the atmosphere before I could get the cranking started.

I was using the starter fluid to minimize the drain on my battery. For if a piston or two fired I might get lots more fuel pump progress than the starter winding alone could accomplish. And Shadow had only a mechanical fuel pump at the time.

It didn't take long for both my starter fluid and battery power to start running low. The fluid ran out first.

Now I was down to feeding Shadow nothing but fresh air while I wound on the starter. Unless...

I rounded up a small diameter hose from the trunk, and an anti-freeze jug. The jug didn't contain anti-freeze, but water. I carried the extra water in case of radiator problems.

Now though I poured out the water to use the jug for a gas reservoir.

I sure did hate to do this. Siphon gas I mean. Gasoline is not only flammable but poison. It's not good to even touch it, never mind slosh it around in your mouth. I kept meaning to acquire some sort of device to negate the need for emergency mouth-to-gas tank fuel extraction, but hadn't yet come across anything suitable at the same time I had funds by which to buy it.

Yeah, I'd witnessed gas siphoning by mouth quite a few times by others-- family, friends, etc.-- but managed to avoid it personally. So far.

And I especially hated the prospect tonight, when I was hoping to be tasting something sweeter later on...

The trick was to get enough gas flowing up the tube and over a high spot to a destination lower than the fluid level from which you were drawing.

People sufficiently practiced in the art could often avoid getting significant gasoline deposited in their mouths by moving the tube end to their jug or elsewhere at precisely the right moment...

Holy cow. I realized something. I had a length of transparent plastic tubing left over from installing my coolant recovery jug in the engine compartment. The left-over remnant had never had any anti-freeze running through it (or served as part of the coolant recovery system) so the risk of chemical poisoning was negligible.

Anti-freeze was deadly back then, and to my knowledge still is today, circa 2005. I've heard that it even tastes sweet too, or did in the past anyway. Making it doubly dangerous to both people and animals.

Maybe my fading flashlights would still glow enough for me to see when to move my clear siphoning tube...

I dug around in my dark trunk for everything which felt like the clear tube. Then examined what I found under my fading lights.

Note that in the old days if you had failing batteries you could sometimes get a little extra out of them by letting them 'rest' a bit. That is, after the device they'd been powering was switched off for a while, switching it back on could release a little more light for a second or two-- even if that same light had gone completely dead before the last time you switched off.

I managed to find the clear tubing. But it was too short for the job.

Working for the most part in complete darkness I scrounged around in my onboard parts collection until I found what I needed to attach the short clear tube to the end of the longer one. So that I'd have a visual indicator of gas flow near my mouth and maybe have a chance to avoid gargling the awful stuff.

If I had any light to see by, that is.

Unfortunately by the time I was ready I'd completely drained all my flashlights. And running my headlights to provide extremely indirect lighting for the job might push Shadow's battery too far into the red too, stranding us here.

Shadow had an automatic transmission rather than a straight-shift. So there'd be no push off starting like a world war one airplane. But in our present location even with a straight-shift we still couldn't have pushed off without several more guys around to help.

Sure, I had matches. But lighting one up anywhere near my face while I was sucking on gas seemed way too dangerous. I did wonder though about the utility of starting a small fire several feet away, by which light to maybe see the tube...

The green glow of the hands on my watch were the only tiny slivers of light around in that moment, dutifully reminding me that I had precious little time remaining with which to reach Dana's house.

Wait! My watch! Would it work?

I had to try it.

I removed my watch from my left wrist to hold it with my right thumb under the clear tube running into my mouth. I held the tube in my right hand, ready to move the spewing end. My left hand I held around the neck of the empty jug, ready to receive. Recall I was using feel in lieu of lights here for much of this.

I was crouching on the ground behind and below Shadow's big open gas cap.

I could see a very dim and distorted version of my watch face through the tube. Although transparent, the tube was also dirty and scratched up from its time in my tool box. And the gasoline of that age was basically a clear, medium tinted fluid. Worse, clear fluid tends to lose all discernible coloring the smaller the amount you examine. Like that running through a half-inch tube.

And human eyes lose the capacity to detect color at all in the dark. That tidbit I wouldn't know as an engineering fact though for quite some time to come.

I just knew I couldn't be certain I could detect it moving through the tube in time.

So I figured I'd allow myself several tries where I would 'jump the gun' if I had any inkling at all that the gas might be arriving.

Sucking fluid through a relatively long hose is harder than you might expect. And if you stop prematurely all your work to that point is wasted as the fluid falls back to where it was, emptying the hose and making you have to start from scratch once again.

My well-founded paranoia about sucking gas left me wasting maybe another ten minutes in futile attempts.

I finally got the flow going though. Without any actual liquid getting between my lips.

But all that drawing did bring me enough fumes to make me lightheaded for a few minutes, and encourage me to begin taking deep breaths of fresh air in an effort to clear out my lungs and head.

Once I had sufficient gas in the jug I staunched the flow and fed Shadow a bit of gas directly into the carb prior to turning him over again. With no light to guide me I had to let the gas flow over my fingers to try to gauge the amount poured. Too much could be a worse problem than too little! I hoped my fingers weren't excessively dirty-- for it was bad for solid matter to get sucked into the engine. Basically the new supply of gas would allow me to continue what I'd been doing with the starter fluid before.

When I finally got Shadow to run again I made sure to keep his revs higher than idle for a minute or two to ensure his fuel line was filled and he would hopefully be able to swallow any remaining air bubbles which came his way.

Plus I couldn't afford for him to die again until the battery had enjoyed some recharge time.

A look at my watch reminded me I couldn't dally here much longer.

Just as soon as I felt I could balance everything on the knife's edge, I put Shadow into drive and began heading for a real road. Steve and I had scouted out a good candidate on our original foot survey.

I found it, and soon was back into familiar territory again.

On top of the world

Dana's driveway was steep and long, winding around a small conical hill, at the top of which sat Dana's parents' house: a one-story brick dwelling. With a dark stand of trees making up its backyard, and representing one edge of a massive spread of forested mountains beyond.

I'd been there numerous times since I got my car. They'd moved there about the same time Dana and I had started high school. And as described elsewhere I was practically part of Dana's family, due to our long history together.

Tonight though felt different. Like I was robbing a bank or something. I felt elated, relieved, and guilty all at the same time.

Of course I figured there was no way Dana could pay up tonight. Her parents being there and all. Indeed, her parents would probably wonder what in the heck I was doing showing up so close to midnight. So I spun up a few semi-plausible excuses in my mind...

I slowly motored up their driveway to park on the incline behind a couple family vehicles-- including Dana's AMX, I was glad to see.

One vehicle seemed to be missing though.

According to my watch it was 11:53 PM.

I strode up to the most commonly used door of the Connor residence-- that inside the carport-- and pushed the doorbell. Got no response. I pushed it again.

I heard something inside, then Dana's astonished face appeared on the other side of the storm door glass.

She unlatched the door and opened it for me. Then she did a double-take of a clock in the kitchen. Then me again.

I'd never seen Dana speechless like that before. It was great!

I entered the house while Dana recovered her wits.

Dana had obviously not been expecting company. She was dressed sloppily but comfortably. Some sort of food stain adorned the front of her over-sized sweat shirt. And her hair wasn't its usual organized self either.

Of course I was pretty dirty and sweaty myself from the exertions and sheer terror of the past few hours.

"I can't believe it. How'd you get through? Mom and dad got caught outside helping my aunt Gail and can't get back. How could--"

"Dana, I guess you're right after all. My name really is 'Impossible'." I thought that up on the spur of the moment, and thought it incredibly clever. Seeing as how Dana had many times clobbered me while using the term as an epithet.

"Uh...I...you didn't really take that bet thing seriously, did you? I mean, I was just joking. You know that. Right?" Dana looked downright scared.

We were both still standing. We'd entered the living room from the kitchen, where Dana had apparently been munching on chips and other items while listening to her parents' stereo.

And yes, I took pity on her. In my own way I dearly loved Dana, and wouldn't subject her to any excessively harsh treatment. Even if she did deserve it.

And yeah, it was mighty disappointing for her to welch like that, but you give loved ones passes on such things. Besides, I knew it'd make her owe me big time. Maybe I'd make her announce my success to all those people she'd made the challenge in front of weeks back. And just leave her to explain herself about the question of who won the bet and who didn't live up to her side of the bargain.

Of course if Dana just lied and said we'd done it that'd be fine by me too. I'd just nonchalantly refuse to discuss it with anyone and let the errant notion boost my standing at school among both girls and boys.

"What? Oh, that bet thing? No, don't worry about it. I just felt I owed it to you to show you your dog still has a trick or two up his sleeve. To make up for stranding us on the parkway that time," I told her, suddenly feeling very pleased with myself and my newfound magnanimity. Plus all the ways I'd suddenly realized I could get some satisfaction out of this after all, even without Dana paying up as originally hoped.

Dana still seemed in shock. Looking at me like I had to be an apparition.

"Are you OK Dana?" I asked her.

"How did you do it? The police, the fire truck, the ambulance-- all of them-- can't get through on Halloween night!"

"Well, I thought my queen wanted me to show up so I did, come hell or high water. Oh, and I figured you might be missing this," I reached into my pocket for my pièce de résistance, and pulled out the case holding Dana's necklace.

"Its latch was broken so I had it fixed," I said as I handed it to her. "I guess that's how you lost it in the first place. It turned out to be hid in a crevice of my floorboards."

Dana was at first puzzled, then opened the case and her face lit up like the fourth of July.

Heck, just seeing that made the whole trip worthwhile for me. It seemed like my heart actually turned a flip in my chest.

"Oh! My necklace!" Dana exclaimed, seizing the trinket in both hands and immediately moving to clasp it around her neck.

"Help me?" Dana asked, and I moved around behind her to close the tiny latch for her.

Wow. I started getting woozy again. I figured I better get out of there soon.

Then we were facing one another again. Dana's eyes looked even bigger than usual for some reason, as she looked up at me.

"Well, I guess I better head back--" I began.

"But you can't-- can you?" Uh oh. She was right. If I left now I'd have to go back the way I'd come-- or else sleep in my car overnight. Wait a minute. Yes, I could likely stay at Steve's place, I remembered. I'd sure hate to wake them up though...

"I can do anything. Don't you know that yet?" I moved closer to her again. I figured surely it'd be OK to get a smooch for the road.

I pulled Dana to me by the waist and kissed her, her arms hanging limply by her side. Then she moved to make them as much of the moment as my own.

We mouthed each other hungrily for a moment. Then I realized I was going to lose it if I hung around much longer. I just couldn't think straight that close to Dana, now.

"Wow. I better get out of here. You're even more scrumptious just hanging out at home than you are in town!" I told her, smiling, as I forced myself to disengage from this disheveled siren with whom I'd once built a clay mud dam in a woodland creek.

"So you're not mad at me? About the bet?" Dana was holding onto me. Not letting me get away.

"No. Dana, I know I act like it sometimes, but I never really get mad at you. More often I'm just mad at myself, and taking it out on you. Sorry about that." Encouraged by her grasp I moved in closer again and nodded my head to touch her forehead.

"I'm sorry too. That bet was mean of me. I don't know why I did it," she told me.

"I think we've both been a little out of it lately. Like all this crazy smooching stuff. I don't know where it came from. But I just like it so damn much--" I was surprised by the depth of genuine longing expressed in my statement. It gave me goose pimples.

"Me too."

"Dana, I really like kissing you too much. Way too much. You know that, don't you?"

"There's nothing wrong with kissing. I like it too."

"But I like it too much Dana. More than I should. It makes me want to do more..."

"More what?"

"You know. You have to know."

"You mean like what we talked about for the bet?"

"Yeah."

"Well...kissing's fun too."

"Yeah. But with guys it's different Dana. It's like there's...a dam inside us with a lot of pressure behind it. And if we like a girl too much and...do too much kissing and stuff...that dam will burst and things will get out of control..."

Dana smiled.

"It's something like that with girls too you know."

"It is?"

"Yes. At least with guys we like a lot. So we have to be careful too."

"But Dana-- I don't want to hurt you, or go too far with you-- or anything like that..."

"I know," she said, as she backed her face away an inch or two to better look me in the eyes as she spoke. Then she moved one hand up to run her fingers through my hair.

"You love me you know," she told me, as her big dark eyes stared intently into my soul.

"Yeah. I do." It'd do no good to deny it. That'd been old news since second grade.

"But not like Sue Anne. Right?" She qualified it for me. Pre-empting my own likely words to same effect.

"Right. At least I think so. It's confusing, Dana."

"Yeah. For me too," she said, more quietly than before.

We were silent for a moment. Just standing there holding one another, foreheads touching once again.

"You haven't done it yet, have you?" Dana asked me.

"Done what?"

"You know. The stuff behind the dam." Dana smiled shyly.

I smiled back, but also felt a twinge of vulnerability. It seemed all the other guys I knew had already had sex. Of course I couldn't be positive. And I suspected much lying and posturing was going on about the matter. But still I felt I was falling behind somehow, with regards to my peers.

I don't think any teenager likes the feel of that particular notion.

But my crush on Sue Anne was choking the life out of me in that respect. I simply couldn't bear to pursue other women. I wanted Sue Anne. Sue Anne most of all.

As for Dana...I just didn't know what to think. Could a man love two women the same way? It didn't seem like it.

Dana and I were too close in every sense of the term for me to lie to her.

"No. I haven't done it. The dam has never been breached."

"Me neither," Dana replied.

"Really? So I'm not the only one?" I smiled at her.

"Really! You're not the only one!" Dana returned my smile with a terrifically better one of her own.

Damn, but she was beautiful! Her hair all askew and the dirty sweatshirt just seemed to magnify her appeal.

I was getting way too comfortable and happy there. I-had-to-get-away-before-it-was-too-late...

"Dana, I'm desperately wanting to kiss you again, so I better get out of here. Before you bust my dam!" I began unwinding Dana's arms from around my body.

"But kissing's OK! Why don't we just make out for a while? No dam-busting, I promise! My parents won't be back until tomorrow sometime. The roads are all blocked. Unless you think maybe they'll be able to come in the same way you did?" Her last sentence began as a statement and ended as a question.

"Not a chance. That way's impossible for anybody but me."

"Please tell me how you got through? Please?"

"Well, so long as I'm talking I guess we're safe: I came through from Del Gata."

Dana's forehead wrinkled. "You mean those roads weren't blocked this year?"

"I don't know. I didn't try the regular passes. I crossed over the Florentin river below Red Ridge."

"I don't get it. There's no road there. Just a river with no bridge. No way you could ford it with your Mustang, either."

Fording was a country folk term for basically wading across a stream with your vehicle. The water had to be pretty shallow and slow moving, and the stream bed pretty smooth too, for that sort of thing. Or else you had to have a Doomsday vehicle of some sort to make it across. Like an Army tank maybe? But even then you might drown.

"Oh, there's a bridge alright. Two of them. And two different rivers too, between here and Del Gata. One of the bridges is just for trains, and the other one's an old dilapidated Model T bridge across the Blackbird."

"Ah! You mean there's been an easy way to get around the road blocks for all these years and nobody knew about them? No fair! You cheated! You wouldn't have won the bet anyway! And you actually had me feeling guilty!" Dana showed signs of getting a little angry with me.

"Wait! Wait, Dana! The car bridge is out. You hear me? Out. It's broken down. Nobody in their right mind would try getting their car across it."

"Well you did, didn't you? That proves it works!"

"No, no, no, Dana," I took a deep breath. "The bridge has massive holes in it. I used ropes and a come-along to winch my car up at an angle so I could cross it using the bridge's side wall instead of the road-part."

"What? I don't get it."

I had her round up a pen and paper for me and then sketched it out for her after we sat down on the couch.

"...and besides that Model T bridge, you have to drive over a railroad trestle too."

Again Dana was unclear on my meaning, until I'd explained it a bit further.

And of course I just had to include the terrifying part regarding the train. I was a teenage boy after all, who loved relating how he'd cheated death.

Just as I was wrapping up my thrilling adventure tale, Dana surprised me with a punch in the nose. It hurt! I expected to start bleeding, but didn't.

"What did you do that for?" I asked, stunned. I'd been really pleased with myself just before the punch, explaining to Dana how I'd cleverly overcome her road block barriers and all.

"You could have died out there! For a stupid, stupid bet! You stupid, stupid boy! You almost let me kill you!" Then she punched me in the nose a second time. Or tried to anyway. Luckily, as I already had one hand up in the vicinity rubbing it, I was able to deflect her some.

Then she started bawling to beat the band. Such a fit of crying as I hadn't seen in quite some time. We were still on the couch, me now holding her as she sobbed. My nose was still smarting. I rubbed it occasionally with one hand. Also checking for blood while I was at it. I couldn't believe I wasn't bleeding from Dana's jab.

"I'm sorry Dana. I didn't mean to upset you! It was just like a prank or something! Really!"

"You could have died," she repeated a few times into my increasingly sodden shirt.

Finally she calmed down again, and we sat there peacefully for a while, her squeezed up tight against me, one arm across my waist, and me with one around her shoulders. Occasionally I planted a light kiss tap on the top of her head. And her dirty, mussed up hair. Her head was resting on my upper chest.

After a while of not speaking, Dana broke the silence.

"You drive too fast. And too reckless. And pull stunts like tonight. I don't like it."

I chuckled.

"Dana, you drive too fast too."

"I'll stop if you stop."

"Dana..."

"I mean it. I'll stop if you stop. I'll get a little old lady's car and never go over 20 mph if you'll do the same."

"Dana, I appreciate what you're trying to do. But I'm not going to stop driving the way I want."

Dana's head rose up from its resting place on my chest, and she looked me in the eye.

"Maybe I can cure you."

"Cure me of what?"

"This death wish you have."

"I don't have a death wish."

"You sure do have something! Something I'd like to get rid of."

"OK. So you're going to psychoanalyze me and cure my mental condition, Dr. Connor?" I laughed.

With that Dana stood up from the couch and took me by the hand.

"No. I'm going to bust your dam," she told me. With the most serious look I'd ever seen her cast in my direction.

I stood up too. Concerned that I'd inadvertently put some sort of pressure on Dana. Made her think somehow I expected more from her than I did. "Dana, I told you. It's OK about the bet thing. I don't care about that."

"You cared enough to risk your life to get here."

I was unsure how to respond to that.

"Come with me Jerry," Dana ordered me, still holding my hand. Now leading me out of the living room. Into the hall. And to her bedroom.

I'd been there before. In simpler times. It was a bit messier than usual today. The bed made, but a bit rumpled. Magazines and clothes strewn about the floor. Most unlike her usual self, Dana paid no heed to any of it.

We got to the side of her bed. Dana turned towards me and we embraced. Kissing ensued.

A moment later she broke things off momentarily to tell me one more thing:

"I want you to live Jerry. I want you to be around for a long, long time."

Then she smiled and we resumed our kissing games.

And two dams would burst that night.

We were unsure exactly when Dana's parents might get through the next morning, so I had to get out of there pretty early.

I couldn't evacuate the vicinity myself until the roads were clear again, so after I went back and collected my gear off Model T bridge I headed over to Steve's parents' trailer.

Steve's family was always up at the crack of dawn. I knew because I'd stayed with them up there before.

Their trailer was cramped but cozy. Amazingly comfortable for the cold winters usually experienced in those mountains.

Luck was with me that day. For I got there just in time for Steve's mom to add me to the breakfast roster. And boy was I famished! I had to consciously restrain myself to just the usual size helpings Mrs. Roberts always gave me for breakfast. They were very generous, almost more than I could eat under normal circumstances. But today I felt I could have eaten twice as much.

Fortunately I managed to hold off from displaying my abnormal appetite to Steve's family.

Steve's dad was a scary guy. Iconic, really. Built like a great Redwood stump, just two of his super-strong fingers together nearly matched the diameter of one of my wrists.

He was practically a civilization builder character out of an Ayn Rand novel.

In real life such hard driving folks can be plenty scary and even dangerous to others at times. For they tend to want everyone around-- including themselves-- to push their limits of endurance in virtually all things.

Steve's mother was beautiful and intelligent, with a look about her suggesting a mix of Italian and native American ancestry. I can't recall her actual lineage now. But she was definitely wonderful in all sorts of ways.

Steve's dad was named Steve too. But I always called him Mr. Roberts. You kind of got the feeling doing anything else might cause you to spontaneously combust in his sight.

Mr. Roberts seemed to like me, so often when I showed up he'd let Steve and Will out of their regular chores to run around with me.

It seems he and others among Steve's elders believed me to be a good influence on their boys. And knowing all I do now, they were pretty much right. I was much more conservative and cautious in many things than Steve or Will. Believe it or not!

Anyway, that meant Steve and Will were always glad for me to show up there.

This particular morning though, Steve wasn't home. He'd stayed overnight at his dad's shop in town, so that he could enjoy some Halloween-related festivities of his own.

Though I'd been aware of his plans-- plus should have thought about some contingencies beyond getting to Dana's house before the deadline-- like the teenage boy I was, I'd not contemplated whatsoever anything like the new situation I suddenly found myself in.

That is, explaining to Steve's parents what I was doing stranded in Traveler's Bend the morning after Halloween-- and not even accompanied by Steve! Yikes!

I ended up telling them I'd gotten lost in Del Gata Halloween night looking for a girl's house where I was invited to a party, and somehow ended up in Traveler's Bend after lots of back roads driving.

I feared Steve's dad would mercilessly pick my story apart, him being aware of the usual Halloween obstacle course in those parts, plus likely knowing every unpaved road around for 50 miles, having lived there his entire life (but for a year or two in Korea).

He gave me a long, hard look (accompanied by an uncomfortable silence), and I figured the jig was up.

But no! He believed me! Or at least gave me the benefit of the doubt.

If Steve had been in my place though, I'm sure Mr. Roberts would have given him the third degree.

Steve's dad seemed to take me at my word lots more easily than he did his own sons. And that served me well that day!

I even managed to finesse my way out of the various contradictions in what I told my parents about my overnight whereabouts, compared to what I told Steve's, too, in the hours to follow.

Of course it helped a lot that Steve himself showed up soon to aid me with my alibi-generation needs.

Apparently by around 7 AM that morning the main road from the interstate exit to the vicinity of Steve's and Dana's houses had been cleared. For not long afterwards Steve came rolling in too. He greeted me with a huge smile and widened eyes when he arrived. For he knew my presence that early in the morning meant I'd made it across the bridges. He just couldn't know if I'd made it in time to win the bet.

Of course, we dared not speak of such subjects in the presence of his parents. Steve's parents would have been aghast to learn of even ten percent of the things Steve and I did in those days. My own parents would likely have been still worse shocked and traumatized.

Sometime later that day we (Steve, Will, and I) would all three be freely roaming the mountains beyond their trailer.

I was so amazingly happy and care-free it was obvious something rare and wonderful had happened to me. My usual mood typically varied between dour and stoic. I tried my best to keep Will in the dark, but there was no way I could keep it from Steve. He and I were simply getting to know each other too well by that point. He guessed it on his own, getting his confirmation from my reactions and facial expressions alone (as I wouldn't directly discuss the crux of the matter of course).

I suppose Steve by that time was up to his thirtieth conquest or whatever. But I still felt like I had him beat that day.

I was sure Dana did not-- could not-- realize what an awesome gift she had bestowed upon me.

Of course the ramifications of it would take a while to sink in. I was master of the afterglow that day.

Yeah, in hindsight decades later it's pretty amusing. Yet much of the wondrous quality of that memory remains with me even today.

The true source of this page is

That one night hadn't been nearly enough for us. So Dana and I would spend more time together over ensuing weeks than we had since we were little kids. It was a time unmatched by any other of my young life so far. Marred only by my still gnawing hunger for Sue Anne the whole span.

Dana could make me forget about Sue Anne for brief stints. But then the crush would come roaring back again to reclaim my soul. Now making me feel guilt like I was betraying Sue Anne in some way by being with Dana.

Yeah, the teen mind has more than enough angst to go around.

If I hadn't had that crush, that would have been a perfect time for me. And maybe improved things for Dana too. I got the impression she was disappointed that she hadn't cured me of my crush. But also unsurprised, and resigned to the fact.

But still Dana was making me happier than I could ever remember being before.

So of course something had to come along to mess it all up.

Dana's parents soon realized what was going on and we had to severely curtail our fun. Not long after that Dana got grounded driving-wise, which put yet another crimp on our spending time together.

Soon Dana was restricted to basically not leaving the house unless she was dating someone besides me, or doing a commute to school or job. Her parents kept close tabs on her schedule when she was away, sometimes even unexpectedly showing up around time for her to get off work. Sheesh!

This left Dana and I sorely disappointed and sad. But there seemed nothing for us to do but wait things out.

I missed her.

For a while we'd leave little love notes or trinkets for each other slipped into the vents on our school lockers, and other such things. But the same factors which had been pulling us apart before were now greatly strengthened by the new interference, and the distance between us soon widened again.

In some ways the latest events seemed even worse to me than when Dana's family had moved away and separated us as children.

And I was amazed to discover there was a whole other level of loneliness beyond that I'd already experienced.

I sought relief by throwing myself more into the work of Shadow's transformation in my free time.

In a matter of weeks dad, my brother and I had successfully recast both Shadow's front and rear ends aerodynamics-wise. Cut out the factory front fender flares to replace them with sturdier and more roomy flares for accommodating bigger tires and more robust road action.

Discarded the factory grill and front under-bra to create our own more race-worthy versions. A custom one-piece quick install and remove grill was fabricated from scratch. A two part air dam similar to that of full blown race cars was designed, fabricated, and installed to match up with the new bigger front fender flares. Shadow's factory bump of a rear spoiler was substantially expanded and extended to improve its down force-at-speed performance.

Bright ideas

The day was a Saturday. I was trying to resolve ongoing problems with Shadow's carburetor.

For some reason I'd decided to rebuild it.

Bought a kit. Done what I could with inadequate information, experience, and tools.

The end result leaked gas like a sieve. I had parts left over from the kit too, which didn't seem right.

But worst of all, Shadow wasn't running well with the refigured carb.

It wouldn't idle at all. And when I took it on the road I found Shadow's top end had now dropped to around 65 mph. Agh!

I was in and out of the house, working on Shadow under the carport.

The true source of this page is

I'd sure picked a bad time to do this. It was December. So some days of late had been fairly cold. Now I had my carburetor all screwed up. Heck, I sometimes had problems starting Shadow even with a healthy carburetor when it was cold out! So I'd worsened an already existing problem. Agh!

It was a rare day at the house. I was the only one there. Plus, it was unseasonably warm for early December. Maybe 60 degrees or so. Nice, sunny weather, with no wind. So maybe I could get Shadow back in order before the truly icy times moved in.

I heard the phone ringing and went in and answered it. Mainly hoping for some good news to overcome my bad day.

It looked like I was going to have to buy a new carburetor.

"Hello," I answered.

"Jerry! It's Dana! I need your help!"

"What do--" I began, only to get cut off by a desperate sounding Dana.

"Jerry! I don't have much time! I'm at Smitty's supermarket in Shepard's Gap. I'm hiding from Freddy Rogers. He's gone crazy and says he's taking me with him to Missouri! Kidnapping me! I got away from him but he's looking for me. Please come get me! Oh no-- I've got to go-- please come Jerry! Smitty's supermarket!"

Then she hung up.

So why didn't she call 9-1-1? That system didn't exist back then. She knew my number by heart though. And she knew I'd come if I had to steal the chief of police's car to do it.

I knew from experience it'd be a waste of time to call the local cops. Somebody had to be missing 24 hours first, blah, blah, blah. If I spent hours persuading them, they might eventually send a patrol car to cruise around the store parking lot...

I figured it'd be a waste of time calling Dana's parents too-- as did Dana herself, apparently. For they no longer trusted me. Or Dana either. They'd likely think Dana and I were cooking up some sort of scheme here...

Shadow was the only running car available to me and he was somewhat disabled. But it'd take a while to round up help from elsewhere.

Well, I'd been on the road today already with Shadow, so I figured I could get to Shepard's Gap. I just didn't know what I could do after that.

I went into emergency mode. Shepard's Gap was some 40-60 minutes away under normal circumstances. I had no time to lose.

As theft (especially of tools) was a problem in my hometown-- and the money to buy them hard to come by-- I hated leaving my precious tools strewn about the carport. But surely a family member would be back soon to look after them. So I just kicked them into a corner and threw a tarp over them, closed up Shadow, and left.

I was comforted somewhat by the fact that my biggest and most expensive socket set was in the front passenger side floorboard, due to chores separate from the carb. At least nobody could steal that while I was gone.

The unexpected break from carb hell, and the irreducible time needed to reach Shepard's Gap meant I had time to ruminate on life in general.

That damn Rogers. He'd better not hurt Dana or he'd get my club up the side of his head! I'd boost his IQ for him by at least twenty points there, or get wore out trying!

Man, it'd been stupid of me to rebuild the carburetor. Even if it'd worked fine it was too much money and time spent chasing much too little performance boost.

And now my foolishness was even endangering Dana! Agh!

I'd been affected a bit too much by all my racing buddies on that, I believed. Those jokers tore stuff down and put it back together just for fun sometimes. I couldn't afford to waste my efforts like that though.

I resolved to try being more careful in what mods I pursued after that point.

It was tough to keep Shadow running every time I encountered a stop sign or red light in my path. And slow traffic. He quit a few times and had to be restarted.

I hoped to hell my battery wouldn't give out on me too. The extra long battery cable to the trunk set up was causing me no end of trouble.

I finally made it to Shepard's Gap. But once there I had to get directions to Smitty's supermarket, as I'd rarely been in this area before.

Once at the market, I could see no sign of Dana. Dozens of other folks walking around, but no Dana.

Well, she might be hiding or on the run, I figured.

Dana hadn't told me what sort of car Freddy was driving, so I couldn't tell if it was still in the vicinity. I'd never taken much notice of Freddy at school either, so I wasn't even sure I'd recognize him if I saw him.

Unfortunately Freddy would likely have no problem recognizing me. It seemed lots of my fellow students knew me somehow when I didn't know them. Partly it was due to me being noted school-wide as Steve's sidekick I guess. For Steve was by far the more famous of our duo.

But I probably got some notoriety too for my apocalyptic dates and assorted driving antics. And I bet I rated high on the beatings score of my first couple high school years, too. Surely there were few other idiots like me who would continue to defy bullies and even entire gangs until my oppressors had simply exhausted themselves beating me to a pulp and lost interest. I personally couldn't think of a single other guy like that at school.

Hmmm. Maybe Dana did have something there when she'd diagnosed me with the death wish.

I decided to cruise around the parking lot in circles. Maybe Dana would see me and come running out. Then I could pick her up and we could scoot on out of there.

But Shadow's problem carb forced me to keep shuttling back and forth between drive and neutral, so I could rev him up to avoid dying. It was most annoying. And attention grabbing. Which was good for getting Dana's attention maybe, but not good for anyone else's.

Damn it. A couple circles. No Dana.

I parked the car and let the engine die. Switched off the ignition.

Then I got out and began looking for Dana on foot.

My club would have looked a little too aggressive sticking out of my pocket here, so I couldn't bring it. This wasn't my rough and ready hometown, after all.

But I did have something else. Something that in hindsight would have been laughable, if it wasn't so dangerous.

I had a starting pistol loaded with some blanks and tear gas rounds.

Yeah, it was only possibly good for a brief, at-a-distance bluff or a surprise noise-maker, due to various visual clues. And I suspected the tear gas rounds would be as rough on the shooter as anyone else, when fired.

But I was still young and unsure about toting around real firearms. Plus, they were darn expensive.

I believe the idea of keeping a starter pistol around had come from my friend Ben. So we were both trying it out, keeping them handy in our cars. I guess for situations like this.

From my vantage point of another 30 years experience after that however, I'd advise no one to ever consider using a starter pistol for anything other than starting a race. Either have a real gun or none at all. Period. There's way too many potential liabilities in toting around a fake gun, and virtually no benefits. At least in places where real guns abound.

Of course I was ready to grapple hand-to-hand with Freddy too, if need be. But so long as we were in this parking lot with lots of witnesses I figured time would be on the side of me and Dana.

So I tucked the small starter's pistol in a pants pocket to begin my search for her.

I tried to start out walking in the smallest search circles which seemed prudent first, then gradually expand upon them. So my first circuit on foot had me making my way along the sidewalk just outside the store wall, then along the outer perimeter of the lot.

On my second course I entered the store to a depth just past the cash registers and then returned to the parking lot again. I planned for my third foray to go deeper into the store...

Then I saw her!

Dana rushed up to me and into my arms. I was shocked by how happy and relieved I was to see her. I'd gotten a lot more tensed up looking for her than I'd realized. She'd been hiding behind various cars in the parking lot, gradually trying to get to me without being seen herself by Freddy.

We had no time for pleasantries. Dana pointed and warned me of approaching danger.

"Jerry, Freddy's there! He's over there, and he's coming!"

I hadn't locked up Shadow because of the possible urgency of re-entry, and because making the rounds of the lot meant I could see him almost every moment, in case Dana got to him, or a stranger threatened his unlocked vulnerability.

Dana and I ran to Shadow and jumped in. Freddy followed, but a little too far behind to catch us on foot.

I got Shadow cranked and we were off.

Off like a little old lady to church. We almost didn't make it out of the parking lot due to Shadow's recurring idle problem.

But once we got on the main road we'd have a top end of...65 mph. Beyond that Shadow would choke and die. Agh!

"Jerry, you need to go faster!" Dana urged.

"I know Dana, but my carburetor's acting up. I was working on it when you called." I left out the part about my screwing up a perfectly fine carburetor. "We can't go any faster. I'll just kill it if I give it too much gas."

Dana's face took on a look of shocked disbelief.

"You mean of all the times I begged you to drive slower, this is the one you pick? Jerry, we're going to die! Freddy's got a gun!"

It turned out Freddy was driving a pick up truck. Which was good news, as most pick ups of those days had engines, transmissions, and rear gearing more tuned to pulling stumps than highway pursuit. Their top ends usually ran somewhere between 70 and 100 mph at most.

The bad news was our own presently crippled top end. It was laborious just maintaining 65 at the moment.

But as Freddy only had maybe a 15 mph advantage on us, it took him a few minutes to catch up.

It was at that point Dana really started screaming about his gun. For as Freddy drew closer it was plain he meant to use it. At least to threaten, if not shoot us.

Virtually none of my usual pursuit-thwarting methods were available to me now. For all those depended upon some speed advantages we didn't possess at the moment.

I did manage to weave in and out of some traffic on a non-interstate two-lane highway at awfully dangerous slow speeds, often using the wrong lane, but that didn't lose him; just widened the distance between us a bit. And it sure felt like Freddy was going to start shooting the very next time he got up close to us.

So here he came now, threading between traffic to remove the only obstacle I had the means to place in his path...when Dana had an inspiration.

Her adrenalin must have been pumping, for my big socket set was fairly heavy, and she lifted the whole thing up head level to dump it out her open window as I weaved in and out through traffic.

My mind was racing trying to figure out how to turn lead into gold-- or get away from Freddy with my present resources, which amounted to much the same thing.

So I was only paying half-attention to Dana's ranting.

Thus, my first conscious notion of Dana's brainstorm came when I heard some metallic jingling sounds to my right, followed by the noise of lots of cars and trucks suddenly swerving all over the place behind us, and saw the oddest twinkling lights in the sunlit air behind us in my mirror.

The jingle bell sounds had not alerted me, as Dana's feet had been nervously pushing the sockets to and fro against each other ever since we entered the car. They were in the floorboard on her side after all.

I didn't realize that I was hearing my tools' final farewell chorus, as Dana dumped them out the window in desperation.

If not for the circumstances and our extreme need of the moment, I'd have been incensed by Dana's dump. For I had considerable cash tied up in that tool set.

The traffic behind us went absolutely nuts, and succeeded in stopping or slowing down Freddy enough for us to escape.

So far as I know nobody got hurt. But I'd learn about some significant car damages to innocent traffic soon afterwards.

We drove straight to the police station in my home town and reported the attempted abduction, and called Dana's parents about it too.

I didn't mind all the waiting we had to do then. For Dana was safe. Plus I was in no hurry to get back to carb hell. Or contemplate the grievous loss of my sockets centerpiece from my tool collection. Agh!

It turned out Freddy had been getting into steadily more trouble for a while before the thing with Dana. And so that had been a factor in his decision to abduct her and run away.

Freddy ended up being put away for quite some time.

One innocent family's car got a busted windshield in the mayhem, when a socket wrench embedded itself in their glass.

We both referred the matter to our respective insurance companies, but I don't think they got reimbursed for it. Something about a road hazards clause, I believe.

Yeah, I would have liked to have given them some cash out of pocket anyway, but I was poor! Not yet built up any new savings to replace what I'd used for my Halloween mission. They would have had to waited quite a while for me to scrape something up, and this had happened to them during a vacation trip (if I recall correctly). So they couldn't hang around that long.

But hopefully it all worked out somehow for them.

Did my rescue of Dana help me get back into the good graces of her parents? Maybe a little. But not enough for them to let us date. Heck, if anything they tightened down the hatches even more after Freddy's attempted kidnapping. I guess maybe they thought Freddy might have given us ideas about eloping or something. So Dana and I were soon reduced to looking longingly at each other across the school cafeteria. The teachers too had been alerted to keep us apart by that time. And Dana's parents took to driving her to and from school and work themselves, or having another watchful relative do it.

We couldn't even talk on the phone anymore, for quite a while after that.

That was the bad news. The good news was Dana's dating ban got expanded from just outlawing me to outlawing all boys. So I wouldn't be tortured by the idea of her being with other guys for a while.

Other good news included the fact I would get to see Dana again in the years which followed. But that would be long after the days written of here.

Dana's use of my tools to stop Freddy got me to thinking about designs for gadgets specializing in such traffic control. Plus, I realized Shadow and I might be vulnerable again sometime to the conflicts generated between my ongoing modifications of the car, and my need to drive it almost every day.

Eventually stuff like this would lead to the creation of Shadow's tire poppers and crash bars.

But first I'd buy a new Holley carburetor, as soon as I could scrape up the money. For I'd ruined my original. From what I could gather it'd cost roughly the same amount to have an expert redo my botched rebuild as it would to take the deal my local hot rod shop would give me on a whole new one.

Unfortunately, I was destined to discover it was almost as much trouble adjusting the new carb to work correctly as it might have been to get my old one back up to speed again. Agh!

The plywood panels I'd used to cross the Model T bridge would in months to come be reshaped and carpeted to become major components of my custom rear interior.

So anyway, all this is why Halloween for a long time afterwards was my favorite holiday of the year!