Long Bridge Runner

Chapter 68-The St. Valentine's Day Motorcar-Part 1

Copyright 1995
By David Rojay

THE LONG BRIDGE RUNNER
Book One/THE MIDWEST

Valentine's Day was the day that Jake Autrey turned up in Fairhaven. People were stunned; Jake was supposed to be dead. He was "blown to bits in an explosion at his Honky Tonk in Franklin County" according to a front-page story in the Wayne County Press.* But there he was in his blue serge suit, his maroon tie and spit-polished shoes, standing in front of Daniel's homeroom teacher.

He rakishly cocked his gray fedora to one side and said, "Miss Baker, I'm in town for one day only and I'd like to spend it with my son."

Miss Baker wasn't sure he was not a ghost but his charisma won the day. She accompanied him, as he hoped she would, to his Lincoln-the very pinnacle of American auto craft. It all came down to this ................ Not only is Jake alive, but he's obviously successful.

The very first stop was the West End Café where Jake parked his right-side whitewalls upon the sidewalk curb. He took his time getting out of the car so as to be clearly seen. Inside, he placed his traditional order for Daniel "a big cheeseburger, a Coke and some French fries and a Baby Ruth candy bar for desert."

As he ate, Daniel was happy sitting beside his father who introduced him to everyone as "my son." For a time, Daniel was back in the secure world that his father had once made for him. All the old rituals were observed-the straightening of Daniel's cap, the pat on the shoulders and the eternal question, "How's your shoes? Let me see the soles."

As they left the restaurant, Jake asked his son, "Would you like a haircut?"

This was not so much an offer as an excuse to enter the sanctorum of Overstreet's Barber Shop next door.

"Is that your car out there?" asked Charlie Overstreet.

Jake nodded with pride.

Nothing had changed; the barber chair rose up out of the floor with the crank of a lever, the clippers sang their staccato song against a fat customer's neck, the smell of Fitz's Hair Lotion permeated the air and Charles Overstreet, with his artful motions, whisked hair off of the oilcloth bib with a flick of his wrist. All this was familiar and reassuring and made Daniel long for visits to the hair-cutting emporium.

Since her marriage to Glenn, Dorothy had cut Daniel's hair. "There's no point in paying a barber a dollar and a quarter to cut a boy's hair," Glenn said.

It was a short distance from the hypnotic revolving barber's pole to the town reservoir where Jake, upon parking, fetched a chamois cloth from the trunk and began to wipe road dust from the Lincoln's lacquered skin. So many Sundays had been spent there on the grass with the St. Louis Post Dispatch-Jake reading the news and Daniel reading the comic section. They had had donuts and cinnamon rolls with milk for Daniel and coffee for Jake.

"You used to take naps here and snore," Daniel said to his father.

"No, no," said a smiling Jake, "I've never snored in my life."

Daniel broke into pealing laughter, "You snore like a pig, dad, just like a big old fat pig."

Jake patted his son's head. It was time to go, the day would not last forever, so they went next to the City Park. Of course, the swimming pool had been drained for the winter but the small man-made lake offered solace as they sat on a bench atop the slope on its south end and looked at the Lincoln's reflection on the lake's surface.

"It's a beautiful car, dad," said Daniel.

"I know, son," said Jake, "but practically no one in Fairhaven has seen it; they still think of me as a bum."

"Dad, you're not a bum," Daniel protested.

There was an awkward silence then Jake asked, "Son, do you remember the time that a snake almost bit you when we were out here with the Church Social? It was right after a Baptism. I remember eleven people were baptized right over yonder and then everyone starting feeding their faces and I saw a copperhead winding across the grass right to you."

"What was I doing?" asked Daniel with wide eyes.

"You were lying on a blanket under a pup tent and I ran over and put a bullet in that copperhead and everyone was so upset that I had a gun on me and I said to them, ‘I don't give a damn; I just saved my son's life.'------ Those are the kind of things that made me unpopular with the church crowd."

After a moment Jake flashed a mischievous grin. "Son, do you know that Gracie Snodkraft was out here one summer's night skinny dipping with her boyfriend and a little snake swam right up her private parts."

"What happened?" asked Daniel breathlessly.

"Well, I guess the snake was just looking for a warm place to curl up. It didn't bite the girl but she darn near had a nervous breakdown. They said when the doctor took it out she was hysterical."

Jake was telling Daniel stories he had never heard before and somehow this gave him the courage to ask his father, "Why did everyone think you got killed?"

In spite of his dark complexion, Jake's face turned blood red. "Well, son, when you're older-say fourteen or so-I'll explain it all to you, but I don't think you ought to hear about it at this point."

At that, Jake reached in the back seat and from under a blanket retrieved a shoulder holster which he put on and then he retrieved a pistol. "It's a Colt 38," he said to Daniel, "you want to hold it? Point it that way."

Holding the pistol frightened Daniel even though he had pretended to shoot one for years with the cap pistols his father had given him and the rolls of caps that had popped and smoked with each pull of the trigger.

*Chapter 16-The Connolly's
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