"Flash oil" reference

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cluey
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Re: "Flash oil" reference

Post by cluey »

Thanks. Again. Your storytelling is great, I enjoy it very much.
ScottishBoy
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Re: "Flash oil" reference

Post by ScottishBoy »

As most of you probably guessed, Choley gave me eternal hell when he found out that I had gotten in trouble at school. I didnt tell him about the other times because they were small and didnt have anything to do with him, but I felt like I had better fess up about this one. I had told him that I would watch out and I had truly messed it up.
Damn! did he give me hell! My father had gotten mad, but Choley just sat me down and did the talk with me again.
Except this time he was very quiet.
Basically he was looking out for me and I knew that he was. He asked me to tell him the whole thing and then sat back for a while, looking at the ceiling. I was waiting for the hand on the shoulder, but it never came.
I remember waking up on the floor. This would be the one and only time that he would hit me in anger, but I couldnt argue that I had screwed the pooch on that one.My ears were ringing and ny head felt like I had been pummeled with a tire iron. I was splayed out in the hay flooring and tasting green. I can still remember that smell to this day.
He looked down at me and said "There was a man out plowing in a field with a mule. The mule wouldnt move and the man was trying to pull him with the reins. One of his neighbors walked up to him with a big 2x4 on his shoulder.
'havin trouble?' he asked.
'yep, I could use a little help.' said the man. So the guy goes up and smacks the mule over the head with a 2x4. The man looks at him and goes 'what did you do that for?'
The guy looks at him and says 'Well…first off…you have to get their attention.'"
He got up and walked over to me and stuck his hand out to help me up.
"I got your attention, boy?" he asked as I came up.
My ears were ringing and I stood up a little wobbly, so he put me back down on the bale.
"yessir" I said as I tried to clear my head. I thought I heard slurring in my words.
"I agree with everything you did to a point, but you shouldnt have called the law on him. That was damn foolish and risky as well. Jesus Boy! Once the law gets wind of you, they never let up and they feel like they can call anytime they please. The law should be for killins and big crimes, not for petty crap like this. You dont need them. You just need to think a little more!"
He had gotten up and was pacing in front of me. I think this may have been the one time he was truly mad. Either way, I didnt like it.
"Remember, you dont SCREW around with the Law. Thats company you dont need and shouldnt keep. Youre gonna be a man soon and you need to start behavin like one." He slammed the back of his hand into his other to emphasize the point. Funny how his accent came back when he was excited.
The worst seemed to be over as he calmed down, but I could tell by the veins in his forehead he was not happy with me. It was a peculiar version of worry and anger and I havent forgot it to this day.
Then he reached over and tossled my head. "Sorry. Guess I shouldnt have hit you." he said quietly. "My Daddy never hit me but once or twice, but he needed to get the point across. You sit a spell. I'll go get you a cloth."
Damn my head hurt. I just sat there waiting to start bleeding, but it didnt happen and Choley came back with a cloth in his hand.
"I called your Dad. You are going to be working for me this weekend. I told him I had wood that needed to be moved into the basement." he said.
'Great!' I thought. 'I could do that'. so I asked how much.
"Four Cord, but I didnt tell him you were going to split it for me too." he said laughing. "Thats gonna be your punishment from me."
"So what if I say I dont want to do it?" I asked holding my head. I could have swore my brains were leaking out of my nose.
"I know you. Youre gonna do it…If youre half the man I think you can be. I'll see you on Saturday morning. Rest up. You're going to need it." He got up and went inside.
I got on my bike and rode home.

I showed up at 8:00 AM that next Saturday, toting my favorite maul and my set of wedges.
"Couldnt stay away could you? " he grinned at me and pointed to the new woodpile.
Now if you have never split wood before there are some types that split very well like ash or red oak. Straight grains always split well. This was a mountain of Beech. Beech is a close second to curly maple in terms of splitting difficulty and it is a bitch to work. So there it was, this big pile about the same size as three or four cars parked in a pile.
Nasty, grey, snarly beechwood, all about a foot and a half in diameter. I searched the pile until I found a piece I could use as a splitting table, saddle up another and came down on it hard. The maul made a good dent and split and I wrenched it out and placed my favorite wedge in and started. Soon I was involved in a personal battle of young man versus nature.
Nature was probably going to win.
That was a loooonnnnggg day. Choley sent me home at 8 that night after making sure I was fed.
The next day ( after applying some horse linament to my shoulders ) I did it all over again and then shoved all that wood through a small window in his basement where he stacked it.
By the time 5 came around I was hammered to a pulp and I was feeling pretty tender. He made some early dinner, which was pancakes and bacon and told me that I had done a fine job and that he was proud of me for taking it and not complaining. So I thanked him for letting me stay on and then started to load my tools into the milk crate I had strapped onto my bike. I was barely able to lift my maul at that point.
Choley walked out with me and even held the bike while I saddled up.
"You did good." he said with a smile "Here. A little somethin for your trouble." and he palmed me a bill and clapped me on the back at which I winced. I said thanks, apologized once more, and rode home in a fog. The next morning I was off to school, when I remembered I had put the bill in my coat pocket. I fished it out because I knew I would need gas soon. To my surprise, it was a beaten 100 dollar bill. I was thankful and I made sure I said thank you again the next time, but I have always wondered if that was meant to soften the blow or drive the point home.
I guess maybe it was to keep me thinking about it.
To this day I feel a little uneasy when I see an old style 100 dollar bill. Another thing I carry with me is the feeling of work like that as punishment, but well deserved. Sometimes when I have done something wrong, I will take it out on myself with work, just to push and see how far back I can press. Not so much these days, but a lot when I was younger. Once, in college, I fell behind on my bills at a house we were renting. I gathered up some returnables and drove to the store to get gas for my chainsaw then walked out into the woods and began to cut up a rather large maple that had been downed. Heat was the big issue in that house and I figured I could contribute that way. I think I hauled and processed about two cords or so, before my roomates insisted I stop. Mid February and the temps were down in the single digits. I didnt care though. I was working and plenty warm.
Choley always said you need to find a way to contribute, even if its simple labor.
"You have to clean up your own messes." he always used to say.
Good advice.
ScottishBoy
HD Survival in a Nutshell...
Read.Search.Listen.Ask for feedback, you WILL get it. Plastic is always "questionable". Dont hurry. Be Careful. Dont Sell,Tell, or Yell. If you wouldnt serve it to your friends, then it isnt worth keeping.
Whitedog
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Re: "Flash oil" reference

Post by Whitedog »

Another well written addition to the ongoing saga.... thanks ScottishBoy!! WD
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Re: "Flash oil" reference

Post by Mud Mechanik »

Ditto
Courage is being scared to death and saddling up anyway----John Wayne
Slow & Steady
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Re: "Flash oil" reference

Post by Slow & Steady »

Ditto +1

S&S
"If it worthwhile then it is worth a little extra time and effort... all impatiens ever got me was burned fingers and charred eyebrows"
cluey
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Re: "Flash oil" reference

Post by cluey »

Damn Good Stuff, I love it, thanks
ScottishBoy
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Re: "Flash oil" reference

Post by ScottishBoy »

Going back to the beginning…

The next weekend was the next chance I got see him again. It was hay making time and I had been "pressed into duty" by my father. We made hay the loose style and I had to admit, I was pretty good at stacking a wagon, but I was always the one who got stuck in the mow, pushing the hay to the back. It was sweaty nasty work and I have never liked it since. Going to Choley's house for a visit was like a vacation. I tried to do it as often as I could. Sometimes I would just show up out of the blue and visit. He was nice like that and he always seemed to have time to visit. I always wondered what he did for actual work, but he seemed good. He never lacked for food or drink and he was always warm in the winter.
So I showed up at his house with a gift for him that I thought was pretty clever. I had been thinking alot about the possibility of someone coming in on us. Needless to say, the stories of the revenuers and the hype about the 20's had made me a little nervous. I was pretty sure it would never happen because the police covered a very wide area and seldom came out unless there was actual trouble. The most they ever did was cruise by this one place that couples came to drink and screw at. I liked the place cause it was a great place to get returnable bottles and cans. But kids will be kids and I really didnt want anything to ruin my chances of learning something.
So Choley comes to the door, and invites me in. He was cooking lunch and immediately asked me if I wanted any. Although I had eaten an hour before, I said 'yes' because…I was twelve. "What yah got there?" he asked looking at the paper bag I was carrying.
"Its a gift for you" I said " I think it might help a bit if someone shows up." I said around a mouthful of Ham. Choley was a big fan of breakfast at any time of the day or night and he made ham and eggs like my grandmother used to. Sunny side up and toasty brown but still tnder on the inside. I handed him the bag and watched him open it. He reached in and came out with my prize, a beekeepers smoker, left over from my family's brief and ill-fated stint with honey bees.
We were very good at killing honey bees.
"Okay" he said. "What do you suppose I should do with this?", he said looking it over.
"Well I thinking that if we did get visited by the law, we could spill that bucket and do the still thing and then light this up and that would make a good explanation for why the barn smells smokey. We could tell them we are trying to smoke out a skunk or raccoon." I had taken to calling the Cops "The Law" because I had read so many stories about it. It was like Mark Twain wrote in Connecticut Yankee, if you got a 'The' in your title, it commanded respect. Besides that, it sounded cooler.
He takes a lean back and then looks me in the eye. "Its a good idea, but its too complicated. What you need to do is depend on people's familiarity and their thinkin that things are like they are supposed to be. If I go into a barn looking for something that makes smoke, then I want an answer that is so easy I dont have to think about it. But you're thinkin, and its not a bad idea. I was thinking maybe a stove in the barn would be good anyway. Right next to the bench to keep warm when your workin. My old bones dont seem to like the cold anymore. But we probabaly dont have to worry about it. I have just the thing anyway. Once you see how it all fits together, then you will understand."
Choley lived at the top of what I can only describe as a really big hill. I pushed my cycle up it once…just once. It was probably 1/2 mile long and probably rose as close to 45 degrees as you could get. In the winter, the only way to get up it was to get a running start. In the summer, people generaly used a pretty low gear. The town had widened to road a few years back and put those big ditches on each side for drainage, which made the hill look even more intimidating. Since this was just a dirt road, very few people ever even came out that way who didnt own a house in the area. I think Choley was one of three houses up that road. One was Mrs B's house and the other was a summer cottage type place that some rich guy owned. He always kept it bright red, with painted white fences all around a pointless field of grass. Although I did make an awful lot of money painting those fences.
Pointless money buys the same stuff that regular money does.
The road did go through to the next town and if you were clever and knew the roads, you could even make it into the next state, but the roads were really narrow and pretty much looked like logging roads once you got past Mrs B's house. I took my car up there once and was scraped by trees and bushes for several miles on each side before I emerged in the other county. The gal I was going to visit was pretty surprised.
So there wasnt very much traffic and everyone pretty much left him alone. Sounded like the perfect opportunity for some midnight distillation. Choley's idea was very simple. He walked me out to the road and showed me a tree that had an eyehook in it. It looked like it had been there a long time, very caked up and old. He explained to me how he used to use it, but he didnt anymore because the chances were so slim it wasnt funny. But he showed me anyway for the fun of it. Grinning like a kid, he fished out a spool of what I think was bass fishing line. It was black and corded. It was also thin.
He fished it through the hook eye and then ran it across the road, where he simply tied it around another tree. This made a trip wire like device. He walked back over and looked at the loop in the tree. "Hmmph. Either this tree is growing really fast or I'm older than I thought. It should be about 12 inches above the road…" His voice trailed off as he picked up the spool and told me to come along. We trotted through the woods, while he let the spool run loose and broke through the bushes right next to the barn. he reached up to the corner of the barn and slipped the string into another eyehook that was hidden behind the rain gutter. Then he ran that one to one that was just inside the door to one down near the door to the back. Once he got to the door, he wound it around a springy bell that was hanging on the wall. It was the same type that you used to hear in stores when you opened the door. Pa-Ching-Ting-Ting-Ting…
That was it. He reached up and gave the sting a little pull and the bell sounded. He grinned at me and said. "We used to use these in the woods too. it was an easy way to let someone up the ways know someone was coming. Time was, when I heard a bell like that I was usually gettin ready to run 10 miles." Then he made a kind of funny, exagerated running motion. He was a funny shit when he wanted to be.
I had always thought that meant he had served some time in the army. I didnt actually figure that one out until I was in college. Now all I have is this image of this spunky old man running through the woods with the elbows and knees going everywhere. Probably some fast banjo music in the background.
Foggy Mountain Breakdown most likely.
It was a summer day that was ripe for the picking as I recall. It was breezy and warm and all was right with the world. We had taken the alarm down and Choley explained he never used it anymore because "most folks wouldnt know a still without the coil and 'Jenny' aint got no coil you can see."
Since we finished the job of the hay, my Dad had gone back to work. He worked the 2-10PM shift. This was VERY convenient for me and my "night time activities". As long as the house was pretty neat and the chores were done, I was a totally free young man. This particular Saturday found me working at Mrs B's house, then dropping down to see Choley for a visit. Days like this would always seem pretty good in my book. Money in my pocket, freshly worn out from 'my tip' and off to visit my teacher was a seriously great feeling.
Lunch ( a'la breakfast!) was served and he told me a little about his early days. He had a few funny stories to tell about some of his friends growing up. Sounded like the usual stuff that stupid boys do before they gain any measure of wisdom.
The day was just as bright as it could be and we both shielded our eyes when we stepped outside. He stops and surveys his lawn and the road. Then he turns to me and says "What say we turn the lawnmowers loose?"
I had been in the shop a bunch of times but I had never seen a lawnmower in his barn. Turns out the lawnmowers were two sheep and two goats. He walks over to the front of his driveway and takes the gate and swung it all the way around until it covered the entryway to the house. Then he wandered down to the barn and popped open the gate to the sheep yard, which had since been nibbled to almost bare earth. With just two gates repositioned, the entire yard became a plate of grass surrounded by a series of hedges near the road, fence out back, and the barn. So then he goes into the barn and returns with a push mower, except that its about half as wide as a regular push mower. My first glance at it didnt warrant a second glance. He wheeled it down to the sheep yard and then proceeded to whizz around and chop down each standing weed that was left. Now it looked more like a putting green. Total time: ten minutes.
"Is that what happens to the front lawn?" I asked. Pretty much knowing the answer at that point.
"Yep. Except there will be more weeds. I'll let you do that one." He said as he winked at me. It was then that I realized the method to his garden styles. All of his flowers you had to step over a low ground cover of some kind of pine. It was simply a matter of providing the critters with more desireable food until they finished the job and then moving them back to the yard.
Once the girls were off, we headed back into the barn. Not one of them looked back as we passed through them. All you could hear was the steady 'rip-rip-pause' of their eating. They could even get water from the small pond. Choley seemed to have his whole farm set up in ways I thought were pretty keen. Everything was a time saver in some way and I swear he did half the things he did, just to be clever.
So we go out to the barn to start looking at where we were. A cool breeze blew though and there was no dust or haze anywhere. The windows had been open all day to air out the barn and the breeze had done its work quite well. He walked over to the tarped bench that was under the big tank and pointed to a valve. It was just sitting on the bottom and it was one of those ones with the handle you crank, not a knob. It was capped with a standard hose end.
'We have to clean the firebox first. Eventually, we will get sweethearts from here and turn em into crushes over there" he said, motioning to the still. So we put the still into place after removing the tarps and opened the front so we could get at the boiler. He gave me a bucket and a small grain scoop and told me to clean it out. So I got down on my belly and began putting ashes in a plastic 5 gallon pail. I finally got down to the grate and pulled that up to find that there was another box below it. It was probably buried into the ground by a good foot and a half. Once I started looking at it, it was actually a camp stove, other wise known as a miner's stove that was buried in the dirt. These were real simple stoves that were sometimes helt together by long screws on the outside, but most of the time they just sat the top on the body and it fit over it like a tight hat. Simple and easy to make. Cast iron all the way through. Down toward the bottom was a traditional air vent for allowing air in but it was covered in dirt. I could however, feel air moving into it. Later I would find out that the vent was a piece of stovepipe that drew from the outside. Replacing it was a bitch.
So here I am diggin around in the ashes and getting pretty damn dirty as I filled up the bucket. Im reaching into grab another scoopful and all of a sudden it feels like something wet has grabbed my arm. I freaked out and jumped back about 10 feet swearing and cussing as best I could, bumping into various tarp covered machines. The next thing I hear is Choley chuckling as he stepped away from what looked to be a water pipe in the stall next to the one that occupied the the still. I was kinda shaken, so I didnt notice that the hose connector on the bottom of the tank was joined to the hose coming out of the floor. Choley waved his arm and did kind of a 'Tada' move. My arm was completley soaked with some foul smelling liquid and the burn box was wet inside.
"Thats how we put it out." he said as he threw me a shop towel. "Thats also how we fill it. After we fill, we connect the hose to that spigot. If we need to douse it, we just turn on the spigot for a minute. Fires out and all we have to worry about is the still. I have never used it, but I test it once in a while." He was still chuckling. "Damn this stinks. When was the last time you tested it?" I asked while trying to wipe off my sleeve.
"'Bout 30 seconds ago." he smirked. Later I would suggest a modification that would come close to eliminating the need to clean it and actually carry the embers and ash out the back of the barn. He was right, though. We never did need it, but I think being prepared and being clever was really half the fun of it.
Now some parts of this I never got to see and others I did. This valve on the bottom of the tank came into the tank and also rose up by about 6 inches or so. That way when it drew off, it was pulling from the clearer wash. It kept it from getting whatever sediment was on the bottom. I later found out that it could be taken out for cleaning. It wasnt held in by very much. It just sort of rested inside the hole. It was snug, but it wasnt machine tight. When cleaning time came, we could take it out and rinse all the crap out into the pig trough. Didnt even have to drag buckets because the hose could be passed through the wall where a knot used to be. Still had to bring buckets to rinse with though.
Man those pigs loved cleaning day! 'Hog Heaven' took on an entirely new meaning when they were fed the dregs because they still had alcohol in them. Once the trough was full of water it leaked out through the boards and they got super food. The water drained into the gutters and washed out the back of the newer section of barn into a container for all kinds of crap…literally. When Choley had the base poured for high barn, he left about a 30 inch by 6 inch channel down the right hand side where the pens were. All you did was shovel the crap into the gutter and then follow up by walking down the gutter with a snow shovel. But he had an even better way to do it. I commented on this one day and his reply was "If you use your head before your body, your body will last longer." It was like a half silo and it held a lot of muck. He had rigged a screen of what looked like a huge BBQ grate at an angle that dropped big chunks of stuff into a wagon on the side. When it got full, he just tractored it off and used it for fertilizer or some such. The neighbors bought it quite often as I recall.
The rest was water from the gutters. He collected the rain water near the front of the barn and then used it to wash down the gutter. That water and small peices went through the grate and collected in the vat. He just used it for watering his garden. He had a valve near the bottom that he opened that went into a shallow ditch that ran into his garden. It looked about the size of a firehose spigot. Fertilized and watered in 5 minutes. I always thought it was funny that the Mother Earth News people were always crowing about "new ways" they found to do things and he seemed to be more ahead of the game than they were. His version of a barn cleaning was to drop about 10 gallons of water into the gutter and let it carry out all the crap he scooped from the stalls. He also used to build his own barrels. He had a special way of cutting the wood so it expanded into a water proof vessel. Lucky for me, this would prove quite valuable to me when I decided I wanted to build a hot tub later. Just very shallow angles based on how wide the circle was, but it worked really well. His formulas for this were pure geometry for me and I took viscious advantage of it.
Well..for the most part.
So I finished cleaning out the coals and very white ash. By now, this was a basically a mess of white paste. But he seemed to appreciate the joke. It was the heaviest stuff I ever lugged and it went right into the vat.

_"Momma got a chicken, thought it was a duck
Set it on the table with the legs stickin up…"_

Yeah. He sung this alot and a whole bunch of other songs most of which eluded me, but some of them I remember.

_"had a little woman, she lived down the stairs
Tried to make a livin by puttin on airs
You gotta step it up and go…"_

Seemed to me that the only time he ever sang was when he was stillin. Possibly this was lucky for me. Im not sure because I never really knew what he was thinking at that point. I think he may have been thinking about when he was young. Me, I sing all the time. Some of the stuff I sing was taught to me by him. I sang both of my girls to sleep with his version of "My Walking Stick". Its just my nature to get a song stuck in my head…then I play with the lyrics. The reason I remember the words to these songs is actually due to another man by the name of Leon Redbone. When I had to go to college, I decided to give my horses to my lawyer. Mike gave me some cash, but also handed me a record with the Warner Bother's Frog on the front. At a dinner one night I expressed an interest in it. I was actually going to frame it, but I listened to it one night and fell totally in love with it when I heard the walking stick song. It was different than Choley's by a bit but it had the same feel. Now I carry on that tradition by singing in the house and generally trying to be happy. I will listen to just about anything, but I always have a soft spot in my heart for old songs that you can still hear the dust in the grooves.

__I got a girl. She lives on the hill.
If she wont do it, then her sister will…__

Yeah , he sang that long before ZZ Top ever did.
In thinking about it, he was probably quite a scrapper when he was young. He had a wirey build that told me that he was a tough customer. Tough and lanky but not really tall, just kinda thin. I saw a video of "Popcorn" Sutton a while back and he looked a little like him, but he didnt have the curve in his back and he kept his beard shorter. In the summer time he shaved it. He kept his a lot shorter than Uncle Jesse and he always had a look of a little bit ragged, even when dressed up. He told me that "the ladies like a man who needs a little grooming. That makes them feel like they actually have something to add to him."
As a result of this I purposely didnt comb my hair and wore a shirt with a tear in it the next time I visited Ms B.
Man, I loved that guy. Ms B. paid me some extra special attention that day and I came home…very…relaxed. I told Choley that his advice was just the thing, but I didnt tell him with who and he gave a little talk which I can remember to this day.
"Does she make you feel like a man?"
"Yeah, she sure does." I replied kinda reluctantly. I wanted more. Ms B. had an intoxicating scent and our trist was so forbidden it wasnt funny, but there it was. Tell me I cant have something and I will want it even more. What I wanted, was that gal. That gal and the smell of her next to me on a warm summer evening. That smell was like ancient jasmine and a little bit of cookie mixed together with the musk of a woman. even her sweat smelled good. To this day, the only woman I have ever smelled who was better than her, was my wife.
I pulled myself back into the room and looked at Choley. "She's pretty great." I said.
"Then you have to make her feel like a woman." he said "Its more than just screwin. You have to let her know that you appreciate the attention. You have to let her know that YOU know its a privilege to have her and even more so to lay your head on her bosom." He sat down on a hay bale destined for a quiet afternoon snack.
To tell the truth , I didnt understand at that point, but Choley always seemed to have a good word to say, so I asked: "What do you mean?"
He Snorted and motioned for me to sit down. I had been doing chores to give him some slack time to teach me more.
"Any woman can fuck." he said as I sat down on another bail of hay. "Thats not what you want if you are a real man. A man knows how to treat a woman, so she gets a little bolder when she sleeps with him. Its a little taste and they will come back if they like it." He gave me the devilish smile I had come to know.
"If you want them to come back you need to do two things." He motioned the counting routine and started. "First off, you need to make sure that they understand that you are greatful for their company. Dont beg, mind you. Dont be weak, but tell em you appreciate it. Let em know you are thankful for choosing you." He paused and gave me a little wink. "A polite man says 'please' and 'thank you'. Just because she lets you in with her, doesnt mean you forget your manners."
"Second, you have to make sure THEY have a good time. If you do, they will be back. You're a man. Our kind have been havin fun since time began. Hell, you cant avoid it. But women dont always and they really should. The Lord will reward you if you think of her first. Yer just gonna have to trust me on this."
He reached over and took ahold of my knee, which I had learned that he was serious, "Take your time. Just take your time."
My grandfather on my mom's side had died and I never knew my granddad on my father's side. This man suddenly became it. He smiled at me and gave me the grin I swear he hid from the world.
"Sex is fine as long as you dont confuse it with love. Love? Well, never be in a hurry to be in love. It will twist you up. But never be in a hurry to leave it, cause it will cut your soul."
He got up and went about his chores and I sat for moment. It made sense on a few levels and I appreciated it for what it was. It was good advice and I suddenly had the feeling of being ( just a very little ) my own man.
My next visit to Ms. B was better than ever before. I told her I appreciated it and I made sure that SHE had fun.
Later Choley and I had a talk and he asked me what I was gonna do with the women in my life. This was a ways after the first talk. I dont remember if I had been in trouble yet or not, but I do remember being at least in high school. I knew what I wanted to say, I really did, but it was hard saying it. Choley sensed this and leaned in and put his hand on my knee. "Go ahead…there aint no wrong answer." He smiled his warm smile when he said it and it was a firm hand that promised answers if I wasnt right.
"I guess Im gonna try to… You know, treat em right." I was thinking of his words. Later on a friend of mine would give me a better phrase "Leave em a little better than you found em."
He relaxed his grip and sat back, with his head tilted up just a little. He stroked his face said. "I knew you were better than I thought. You might just be okay someday. Dont take this the wrong way, but yer daddy aint never really seen what it is that makes him a man. Dont get me wrong, I like your Dad. He is book smart and he got his papers and can even do a good days work and such, but I think you need this more than he does. You gotta be honest with them and tell them when you aint in love. If you tell em, and they decide to ignore it, then it aint your fault. Sometimes the ladies have to lie to themselves a little. Dont help it along, but play nice if you can. And dont be mad if they suddenly get the cold feet. and above all…'No'…means "NO"'…no matter what." He slammed his fist into his palm to emphasize the last 'No". It was obvious he had strong feelings about this.
He stopped and looked at me cold. He was serious on a way I had never seen. "If they say 'No', then stop, no matter what. Sometimes they play a dare with themselves and sometimes they get scared. Its not your fault and it's not your place to take advantage of it. Its your duty to be there. Maybe even to save her from herself.
He suddenly got even more serious. His brow furrowed and he looked at me from under a grim forehead; "Remember that a few jackoffs are better than rape on any day. You let her explore and you provide a safe place to do it, and you will be knee deep in ladies. They will talk, tell their friends, and you will be popular. Keep your body clean and your heart honest and the women will beat down your door. But if you take that from her, you can never give it back and she can never have it back. It's lost forever…for both of you."
Quite frankly, this was the best piece of advice I have gotten in all my life…Mostly because it's true.
Then he got up and started walkin off. " C'mon boy. Gotta build them muscles for Ms. B…"

I swear to God, I almost fainted.
ScottishBoy
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Re: "Flash oil" reference

Post by Whitedog »

I sure enjoy the style in which you express and share your experiences and thoughts. I also appreciate your willingness to take the time and effort writing this elegant piece of literature. Another well written piece, thanks for sharing! WD
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Re: "Flash oil" reference

Post by Slow & Steady »

Yep... I'm with you on this WhiteDog. I'm always pleased when another installment of "Flash oil" shows up in my "In Box".

Well Done, ScottishBoy.

S&S
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Re: "Flash oil" reference

Post by Sbeghan »

Thank you so much for the story!

How do I set this up to get an alert when SB posts a reply in this thread?
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Re: "Flash oil" reference

Post by Slow & Steady »

Sbeghan wrote:Thank you so much for the story!

How do I set this up to get an alert when SB posts a reply in this thread?
Put a "check" in the box for; Notify me when a reply is posted

It is in the "options" tab just below the place where you enter text when you are posting.

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Re: "Flash oil" reference

Post by ScottishBoy »

"Huh?! How did you know?" was what I said on the outside. Inside I was panicking like a horse in a barn fire. If I could have literally shit a brick at that point, I would have. Oh Man! I was so damn waste deep in shit. Normally I would have denied it til the end, but before I knew it, I was confirming it. Panic was rising and I could feel my voice getting crackly. He turned and looked at me and gave me the calm down motion. Both hands because he saw the panic in my eyes.
"Your shirt smells like her perfume". He says as he sits me down again. "Besides we are neighbors, so I watch out for her."
He sat down next to me pretty much where we were before. He had a really odd look. "I have known a while." he said dippin his head down. I guess a woman has a right to do what she wants and I can see that you arent any worse for the wear." He stopped and paused for a second, paused again and then looked at me right in the eyes. He was serious as the day is long. Possibly even grave.
"Youre the wrong age for her and she knows it. So Im going to tell you some things. People around here might not look kindly on what you two are doing. There's a powerful double standard for whats gonna happen if you get caught." I had a tough time with what he was starting to say and actually tossed the idea of leaving around. But I stayed because I knew he wouldnt say it unless he meant it.
"If she gets caught, they are going to burn her like a witch, but youre going to be a local hero because you got into her business. Do you see what Im sayin?" he dropped his eyes a little and gave me the concerned look.
"Yeah". I knew exactly what he meant and the implications werent pretty. Ms B was a really nice lady and not because I was sleeping with her. Choley was concerned for the possibility of bad news for both of us. I was starting to get the picture. It was time to be a man, or at least attempt it. I hadnt really thought this one through. But at the time we had this conversation I was fourteen and getting a lady on a pretty consistent basis. I considered a few things and the outcomes of a few more.
"If we get caught, I take the fall." I said " I make it look like she had nothing to do with it…No matter what" I said quietly.
"Now you got it." he said quietly. " I could do without knowing, but I know already. Ms B is a good woman and she hasnt ever been anything but kind to me. She's a bit lonely, but Im guessing she aint so much now. Its not like she's hurting you. But you play nice, just the same." She owned a busisness of her own and she had some pressures and I guess I was a "safe" dalliance. Although, looking back on it, I was a hell of a lot more dangerous than just going out to a bar and getting someone for a night. She was easily attractive enough. A little on the short side and carrying a tiny bit of weight, she had a heart shapped bottom and a busty chest. Her face was solemn and elegant in a calm sort of way. She had kind eyes and she was always tried to see the good side of things. She didnt need to convince me. The day she reached around me to grab a towel for me at her sink, it pretty much all changed. That was a little before I actually met Choley. I think I had been visiting her when I first ran into him. Two years later, Im sitting there with my secrets hanging in the wind. It was a raw and scary experince to find out that someone knew. Think of being displayed in a church after the whole congregation found out you were the one giving their kids dirty magazines…and then multiply that by 1000.
That would close.
From that point on, I began to take a sort of protective role in our relationship. I was extra careful to make sure that she was protected at all times and that my descretion was absolute. She was in a vulnerable state and Choley was correct that they would lynch her if they found out. So I was one quiet young man, not that I wasnt before, but extra quiet now. Everytime I visited, I made sure work was done and that we had our story straight. The faster work times made me much sweatier and Mrs B was quite willing to shower me off before dragging me into her bed. I would later translate that protective side into every relationship I had. Once again, I was paid off in spades. That relationship was one of the most calm ones I have ever had. It was matter of fact and seemed born out affection that could never turn to love and we were fine with that. To this day, I have wondered why I didnt fall in love with her. I guess the lack of complication was something that appealed to her too. Either way, it suited us both and our needs were met. Did I get hurt? No. Was it wrong? Im too close to the matter to tell, but I can tell you that I have nothing but good thoughts and warm feelings about that woman. A young man should be so lucky as to have an experienced lady show him the ways of the world.
I was starring out the barn door and deep in thought. I felt a hand on my shoulder and I heard Choley say "Its not forever, and you will know when it's time to leave. She will get along fine without you. Me, Im not going to say a thing. If anyone asks, I dont know anything." I didnt like hearing that, but it was true. This obviously would not last forever. There was a note of finality in the air. All good things would eventually come to an end.
Suddenly the day didnt seem as warm as it was before.
So I went out back and spent a little time with one of the few ladies I could ever control. The lady of the house. She was fine, sleek and dark skinned. I could fire her up when I needed to and she was always in the same mood I was, except on colder nights when it took longer for her to come around.
'Lady', as he fondly called his still, was not a handmade still in the classic sense. To look at her, you would not think she was a still at all. The copper boiler was about the only thing I could recognize. Off the top of the boiler came a pipe that must have been an inch wide that went into the taller section of the gizmo with the flywheel. Well, it went in there when it was in place. Then he tightened it up with a join nut. It took me forever to figure out what this was. This machine, once did something else. Something very interesting.
The boiler fed steam to the head of this unit and the machine did something that involved a flywheel. It did have some fins built into it towards the top. My first actual, guess was that it had been a pump of some sort. Choley let me chew on it for several weeks before he told me what Lady's first line of work had been.
Lady's prime function in life was a still, but she had been something more in the past…or maybe less. If you took the top piece with the radiator type fins on it, you would expect to see a cyclinder head, but instead you were met with a copper colored flat cap with a pipe comin out of the side of it, through the side of the head that joined up with the boiler. The cap was flush with the cylinder head and would have been held on by the pressure of the headpiece. Put the four screws into it and the copper lid would not go anywhere. You couldnt see it until you took the cap off, which was a nice snug fit, much like a cookie tin, but there was another pipe that came out of the side and went into a hole farther down the cylinder. That one just dissapeared down the back and into the metal box that held the head unit. The lid had a little bit of a notch to fit around the top pipe which took a sharp dive to the bottom of the container and stopped short less than half an inch from the bottom.
Down towards the bottom of the big dark box, which was made of cast iron I think, was a valve. It was a very nondescript valve that looked beaten all to hell. It had scuffs and solder on it and it was covered in a slightly greasy dust like the rest of the black box. When you unscrewed it, you were left looking at a lot of copper pipe with a nice clean inside. I only saw the inside of that box once. It was clean and nice and had nothing in it but a huge rectangular shaped cooling coil. Well, it was a rectangle on the outside, but it had a weird pattern to it. I think it may have been made on a jig, but I never did get to ask. It looked like a bunch of copper number eights stacked on each other but out of alingment. All along the outsides were corks to keep the pipe seperate from each other. The chamber itself, well I could never say what it actually held. Gears I suspect, but they had been removed. It had only one thing in it that was original. On the side was the shaft that came into the box. It was the other end of the flywheel. It had been cut off and there was a can that was attached to it with radiator clamps. When the wheel was turned, that can would grate and bump inside the narrow space for the take off.
The first time I turned that wheel, I just knew that this thing was broken. That, Choley later said, was your expectations being met.
The box was filled with oil, but it wasnt dirty at all. In fact, it looked new. It smelled like Sinclair oil and I immediately got the green dinosaur logo popping into my head. I remember it was a big deal that we had the lid open because it was bending the pipe from the cylinder above and we had to go very slow when we tilted it up. It was to plug an oil leak, but the leak added to the already ratty looking 'cast off' look of the machine. It had the look of something that your grandfather should have thrown away but never got around to bringing to the dump.
In short, it was hiding in plain sight.
Once we got the leak fixed with a little of this dark gray rubbery stuff, and topped it off, the lid was back on and we were bolting it back down. This was only after Choley blew through the joint to see if there was any change in back pressure. I could hear it comin out near the valve. I went to wipe the oil from the bottom and Choley stopped me and said. "Nah. Leave it." Then he scuffed up some of the barn dirt onto it and dropped some of the hay dust onto it.
"She needs to be as plain as she can." he said, smiling at me. "Her glory days have passed, but she does just fine here."
I still didnt have it clear, so I figured I might as well ask. "Okay, I give up. What was Lady before she was a still?" I asked. Choley looked at me and spilled.
"She was a steam engine. I think she was on a fire boat, but I have never been sure and there arent any marks on her I can read. She lost her sign before I found her. I think she ran a pump of some kind. I like to think she saved some lives. I changed the boiler out too. I cut it in half, and again, so it wouldnt be so heavy. Re worked the bottom and fit it with the stove. Took me a while, but it came out pretty good." He was obviously proud of it and it showed.
He had named her, trimmed her, and hid her in front of whoever walked into that barn. I asked him late one night why he named her lady. He was sitting in a chair and looked up at me and chuckled. Thats the first thing I said to Babe when I met her:
"Hey Lady".
ScottishBoy
HD Survival in a Nutshell...
Read.Search.Listen.Ask for feedback, you WILL get it. Plastic is always "questionable". Dont hurry. Be Careful. Dont Sell,Tell, or Yell. If you wouldnt serve it to your friends, then it isnt worth keeping.
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Re: "Flash oil" reference

Post by Slow & Steady »

I have been waiting for "your expectations being met" to be explained...

Another great installment... Thanks again ScottishBoy :D

S&S
"If it worthwhile then it is worth a little extra time and effort... all impatiens ever got me was burned fingers and charred eyebrows"
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Re: "Flash oil" reference

Post by ScottishBoy »

He always used to say that if you supplied them with "the answer that causes them the least amount of worry" then they were more likely to believe it.
One of his strengths was seeming to always know what people were thinking...or at least, what they wanted to think.


I may have to slow this process down a bit. Some of the bad stuff is dragging along with some of the good.
ScottishBoy
HD Survival in a Nutshell...
Read.Search.Listen.Ask for feedback, you WILL get it. Plastic is always "questionable". Dont hurry. Be Careful. Dont Sell,Tell, or Yell. If you wouldnt serve it to your friends, then it isnt worth keeping.
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Re: "Flash oil" reference

Post by eviljesus »

SB

Is there any update to this? Ive just spent a wile going through this all. Excellent read, and really wanting more.

Cheers,
Evil.
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Re: "Flash oil" reference

Post by Torp »

Found this thread tonight and read it through, thank you Scottish Boy, please continue at your leisure but you are a good writer and I am interested in reading the rest of the story
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Re: "Flash oil" reference

Post by Titus-a-fishus »

Glad someone found this thread.
It is a great read. :clap: :clap: :clap:

Scottishboy
you do need to continue the story as we are all hanging out waiting.
Even had the missus read it..... she thought it great as well

What happened to Choley?

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Re: "Flash oil" reference

Post by Prairiepiss »

This is some good stuffs right here. Scottishboy Sir you have a way with words. I to am waiting for the next chapter.
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Re: "Flash oil" reference

Post by ScottishBoy »

Sorry. I was going to continue but life got in the way. My wife asked to separate. So things have been a wee bit crazy.
as Choley would say "She wasn't the stayin type."

I'll see about it soon, once I get my life squared...;)
ScottishBoy
HD Survival in a Nutshell...
Read.Search.Listen.Ask for feedback, you WILL get it. Plastic is always "questionable". Dont hurry. Be Careful. Dont Sell,Tell, or Yell. If you wouldnt serve it to your friends, then it isnt worth keeping.
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Re: "Flash oil" reference

Post by eviljesus »

Bumping this one up again.....
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Re: "Flash oil" reference

Post by frozenthunderbolt »

+1 this is an awesome story SB!
Where has all the rum gone? . . .

Every new member should read this before doing anything else:
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Re: "Flash oil" reference

Post by Kiwikeg »

He nodded at my choice in boots. Timberlines with no steel toe. Only fools wear steel toes around draft animals.
This is a great read but at a risk of sounding foolish -why shouldnt you wear steel toes arround draFt animals? can some one please explain to a non farmer.
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Re: "Flash oil" reference

Post by Bayou-Ruler »

Kiwikeg wrote:
He nodded at my choice in boots. Timberlines with no steel toe. Only fools wear steel toes around draft animals.
This is a great read but at a risk of sounding foolish -why shouldnt you wear steel toes arround draFt animals? can some one please explain to a non farmer.

prolly cuz if they step on ur foot the Steele toe can cut ur toes off.
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Re: "Flash oil" reference

Post by bentstick »

Same reason you don't wear em around rock crushers, when ya pull your feet out of the boots you wants your toes to come with them!
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Re: "Flash oil" reference

Post by jason_sp8d »

Wow. Just read it all and its an amazing story.
Cant wait till SB gets a chance to write agian
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Re: "Flash oil" reference

Post by eviljesus »

I know I'm the proverbial grave digger but hopefully SB can give us some more....
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Re: "Flash oil" reference

Post by sinkinskiff »

SB this is a wonderfully written history that has made me and I'm sure several other people think back over my/our past histories and the people that have touched use and somehow molded us into the people that we have become. I can't help but see a little of my grandfather in your memories and I have to say thank you for bringing back some of my memories of him . Thank you for sharing your memories and the pleasures that Choley helped you find .
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Re: "Flash oil" reference

Post by moose11 »

I've come to the end of this thread and I am left wanting more, ScottishBoy you are an excellent author :clap: :clap: :clap:
If you're not published you should be! :D
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Re: "Flash oil" reference

Post by eviljesus »

This thread is a-needing another excavation...
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Re: "Flash oil" reference

Post by goinbroke2 »

Love the story SB, need another chapter!

Sorry to hear of your issues with the wife though. Hopefully life will come back together for you and you can move on.
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