The Red Pick-Up Truck Mystery

By George S. Hatnes

Kidnapped? A 16 year-old farm boy abducted from his neighbors house in broad daylight? No, this hideous crime couldnt happen in peaceful rural Indiana!

A mans corpse is found in his dilapidated house. Counterfeit money, stolen paintings, secret coded messages and international intrigue during the Second World War are all revealed as two teen-aged mechanics-turned sleuths attempt to breathe life back into an old rusted and grimy red pick-up truck.

A county sheriff and an agent of the F.B.I. join forces to assist the two amateur detectives in their attempts to solve this complex mystery. Together they try to sort out the mind-boggling series of events involving an evil dentist who is a fugitive from the law, two dangerous escaped convicts and an odd pair of strange men--a seven-foot giant and a his puny partner.

Will all the twisted threads of this exciting thriller be untangled so that justice can prevail? You will be enthralled as this spell-binding novel, the third in the Sam and Howie series, unfolds bringing suspense page by page.

• Language: English
• Publisher: AuthorHouse
• Release date: Nov 18, 2010
• ISBN: 9781452067247

George S. Hatnes

The author, George S. Haines, was reared on a working farm in north central Indiana. Visits to the farm by friends and relatives were rare. As a result he looked forward to seeing his cousin Howie arrive from Ohio to stay several days. Together they would go on exploring missions around the farm. And that is where the mystery began. Haines graduated from PurdueUniversity with B.S. and M.S. degrees. His doctorate was earned at GeorgePeabodyCollege for Teachers, now a college at VanderbiltUniversity. He has taught students from the seventh grade through adults. At TaylorUniversity, Upland, Indiana, he was professor of education and Director of Teacher Education during a 17 year tenure. He lives in Upland, Indiana and Ft. Myers, Florida. The artist, Betty Wedeles, has taught beginning and advanced art classes for 30 years. Her knowledge and application of color, harmony, value, measurement and composition is evident in her works. She is involved in wood carving, clay sculpture and china painting. Her artistic endeavors reflect her respect for wildlife and its habitat. She is in demand as a judge at art shows and as a workshop leader. A talented artist, Wedeles has studied under Gene Melton at the University of Southern California. Mrs. Wedeles lives in Ft.Myers

Book preview

Coming soon:

Another Sam and Howie

Adventure:

The Professor With Many Faces

………………….

Previous Sam and Howie Novels

By

George S. Haines

………

The Giant Horseshoe Mystery

………

The XYZ Mystery

The Red Pick-up Truck Yearns To Be Out On The Road Again

For years I have been parked in a farmer’s shed,

I’m much too expensive to repair, I’ve heard it said.

My earnest desire is to run fast down the road,

With my cargo bed burdened down with a heavy load.

Now my front fenders are drooped with sadness,

If they would shine again I would beam with gladness.

My headlights are dim and shed a frequent tear,

They haven’t lighted my way in the dark for many a year.

The tires on my wheels are flat without air,

To travel on the streets or roads I wouldn’t dare.

I’m looking forward to a time when my windshield is clean,

So my driver can see sights not recently seen.

Since my red paint has become faded and pale,

No one will ever consider putting me up for sale.

A restored, shiny red pick-up truck is all I desire to be,

Then I will be driven on the roads for everyone to see.

Perhaps soon someone will come and rescue me,

Then I will be proud and useful again. Don’t you agree?

This book is dedicated to my daughters, Pamela and Georgana, who give me constant love and support. Also, this novel is written to honor granddaughter, Kayle, and grandsons, Justin and Matthew. My prayer for them and son-in-law, Mike, is that they will continue to listen for God’s leading in their lives. Hopefully, this book inspires all readers to honor God and to respect others, regardless of origin.

…

This novel is also presented in honor and fond memory of George Howard Theobald who died on January 27, 2010. Howard, who lived in Ohio, was my cousin who with his parents frequently visited our family at our Indiana farm when we were young boys and teen-agers. He is the character Howie in each novel of the Sam and Howie mystery series.

…

I am indebted to my wife, Jane, for her prayers, assistance and understanding as this story became a reality over the span of several months. And, I am very grateful for the editing suggestions made by Jane and my capable friend, Stephanie Beam.

…

The talents of Betty Wedeles as a resourceful and creative artist are evident throughout the book. Her artistry in creating the images for the cover and all illustrations is greatly appreciated.

The Red Pick-up Truck Mystery

A prologue

Five years ago, in 1937, Sam, 11, and Howie, 10, decided to explore a log cabin built by their great grandfather on his farm in the 1840’s. They fell through the log cabin floor into a hidden tunnel. There they found a skeleton holding a large horseshoe. This discovery started them on a relentless and frightening journey as they followed clues found on the horseshoe to solve The Giant Horseshoe Mystery. Sly and Slick, two underworld characters, constantly harassed them, trying to interpret the clues and solve the mystery first.

Then, during the summer of 1939, Sam and Howie were together again. They investigated a dilapidated house on the same farm, the house built by their ancestors when they outgrew the log cabin. Under the stairs in this house they found three pieces of metal with the letters X Y and Z forged on the ends. As Sam and Howie attempted to determine the purpose of the tools, they found a secret room and tunnel under the house. At the end of the tunnel a skeleton was discovered, holding the first of three metal containers. Sam and Howie were continually tormented by two men in black who were determined to follow the clues found in the three containers and solve The X Y Z Mystery before Sam and Howie could find the solution.

Now it is 1942. The United States is at war with Germany and Japan. Sam, 16, has his driver’s license. He at last has been able to purchase the red pick-up truck that has been stored for years in his Grandpa George’s barn. Howie, 15, comes for a visit and helps Sam fix up the truck to get it ready for the road.

In the process of repairing the truck they find faded 50 and 100 dollar bills and strange coded messages hidden in the vehicle.

When they attempt to find the origin of the money, and also to crack the secret codes, they find their Uncle Freddy dead in his home. Then as Sam and Howie follow the clues, they have to elude the clutches of a sinister dentist who is a wanted criminal. Also two convicts who have just escaped from a local prison constantly harass them as they attempt to solve this latest intrigue. Two mystery characters, Moose and Squirrely, enter the scene as adversaries to complicate efforts to find a solution to the daunting and dangerous criminal activity.

Sam and Howie have hair-raising encounters with this group of gangsters who work in secret underground rooms to produce counterfeit money. They also discover that the hoodlums process stolen paintings and other art works and sell them to America’s enemies in foreign countries. Follow along as Sam and Howie attempt to stay one step ahead of these criminals and solve this latest thriller, The Red Pick-Up Truck Mystery.

1

Look out, Sam! screamed Howie, his sandy hair standing on end and his hazel eyes big as saucers. That big black car is coming straight at us! Both lads were panic-stricken as the monstrous black vehicle was now only a few feet in front of them, coming on at a tremendous speed.

With a surge of adrenalin Sam forcefully twisted the steering wheel of his red pick-up truck, turning the front wheels sharply to the right. The truck slid sideways on the loose gravel, shot off the road and careened down, across, and then up and over the far side of the grassy side ditch. Howie desperately grabbed the door handle and seat cushion to avoid being thrown up against the roof of the cab. As the truck dropped down and then abruptly recoiled back up, they cleared the side ditch and roared toward a sharply-pointed barbed wire fence that bordered a farmer’s orchard.

Sam hit his head sharply on the roof of the truck cab as he was thrown upward. When the truck came back down violently, he bounced on the seat with a terrific jolt. His foot accidently stomped on the gas pedal instead of the brake. The red truck accelerated forward and tore through the two strands of barbed wire fencing, and then raced into the farmer’s orchard with 30 feet of barbed wire and two fence posts draped over the hood and trailing behind on both sides of the truck. Then to his horror Sam realized the gas pedal was stuck to the floorboard of the truck cab.

Sam, don’t hit that cow!… Yikes, we’re heading straight for that chicken house.

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The chicken shack seemed to explode under the impact.

Sam and Howie ducked as the truck blasted through one side of the tumble-down building. The chicken shack seemed to explode under the impact. Loose and broken boards erupted all around them. Panic-stricken chickens filled the afternoon air, squawking and flying desperately in all directions. White chicken feathers floated down creating a scene like a summer snow storm. Eggs flew out of nests into the air, rained down and coated the truck’s hood, cab, windshield and the cargo bed with a yellow layer of egg yolks.

Bursting out through the other side of the demolished chicken shack, the truck was still going at least 20 miles per hour. Two frightened chickens had flown in through the open side windows of the truck. They were flopping around inside the cab desperately trying to escape. Sam, trying to see through the yellow-coated windshield, was having great difficulty knowing where to steer the speeding truck.

Howie, get rid of these chickens. I can’t see out the windshield. It’s covered with eggs!

Okay, Sam, I tossed one of them out the window. But that big red barn! Sam, the barn is right in front of us! Try to steer the truck in through that open front door.

The other chicken, a proud white rooster with a bright red comb flapping about, was still flying around inside the truck cab. He landed on top of the steering wheel, looked at Sam and started to crow. Sam grabbed him by the neck and tossed the rooster out the window. Now it was too late for Sam to swerve the truck to one side; they were racing through the wide open front door into the center of the barn. He stabbed the brake pedal with his right foot, trying desperately to slow down the truck. They roared through the main corridor of the barn, past burlap sacks full of chicken feed and bales of alfalfa hay stacked high next to the horse stalls.

Four large Belgian work horses, tethered in their stalls, had their heads down in their grain boxes leisurely munching on oats. Hearing a loud rumbling noise as the truck tires bounced over the wooden planks that made up the barn floor, they looked up, still chewing but startled. They were terrified to see and hear the red truck with its engine roaring, flashing by only a scant few feet in front of their stalls. Wild-eyed, they reared up on their hind legs breaking their neck ropes that were tied to the mangers. All four horses, in a panic, jumped over their mangers into the main corridor of the barn with ease. They galloped full speed out the open barn door and headed for the apple orchard, their tails arched and flying in the wind.

Sam and Howie were white-faced as the red truck bolted out of the barn’s open rear door and plunged directly into a gigantic straw stack. Only after the truck became buried in the middle of the monstrous pile of wheat straw and came to an abrupt stop did Sam think about turning off the ignition.

Unable to force open the doors of the buried truck, Sam and Howie realized they were in the dark surrounded by a huge mound of straw. Howie, we should be able to squirm out the open windows and burrow through the straw toward the rear of the truck. Then we can crawl out the hole that the truck made when it hit this straw stack. Come on. Start digging with your hands.

Soon they were able to dig tunnels through the straw on both sides of the truck’s cab toward the rear of the truck. Finally, after clawing their way back to the edge of the straw stack they crawled out to the waiting sunshine. Standing up out in the open air they took a deep breath and brushed the straw from their shirts, pants and hair.

Sam looked at Howie and pointed to the huge mound of straw. My shiny red truck is buried under that humongous pile of straw, he moaned. Wow, what a way to end the first road test. We just got the truck fixed up to drive on the roads and look what happened. Well, let’s walk over to the farmer’s house and tell him we drove through his fence and flattened his chicken house. And we’ll let him know my truck’s still stuck in the middle of his straw stack.

On their way to the back door to the farmer’s house, Howie put his arm around Sam’s shoulders and tried to comfort him. At least we weren’t hurt except for a few bruises, and I don’t think your truck has much damage. That chicken house was rickety and ready to fall down. And the stack of loose wheat straw we hit didn’t scratch or dent the cab. The front of the truck probably has a few scratches from the barbed wire fencing. We can easily fix that with rubbing compound.

After a few more steps, Howie continued, But, Sam, why do you think those two idiots in that black car ran us off the road? There was plenty of room for them to pass on the other side of the road.

I don’t know, Howie. They were probably talking and weren’t watching where they were going.

You may be right; but, I saw the look on the driver’s face. He was glaring at us like he hated us. I think he intentionally ran us off the road.

Why would he do a thing like that? I think they were playing ‘chicken’ with us, to see who would swerve off the road first….Or maybe the driver ate turnips for dinner. That would make anyone look hateful.

And by the way, Sam, you did a great job of steering your truck right through the middle of that barn without hitting a post or anything.

Yeah, we were lucky there wasn’t any farm machinery parked in the barn. We had a straight shot through both open doors and right into that straw stack. Thank God we didn’t cause any property damage.

As they neared the rear door of the farmer’s home their pace slowed. Sam looked out toward the demolished chicken house. Howie, we sure did a job on that old chicken shack. There’s not a board still standing. And, there are the four horses that jumped over their mangers and galloped out of the barn. They’re eating apples right off the trees in the orchard. They can thank us for their afternoon snack.

Yeah, we can explain what happened when we talk to the owner. We can offer to build him a new chicken house.

As Howie thought about what had just happened, he stopped and said loudly, Sam, every time I come to visit you something scary happens. You told me this summer would be different. We would just relax and together we would fix up your truck and get it ready for the road. And look what’s happened over the past several weeks!

Howie caught his breath, continued walking and, waving his arms about, moaned out loud, Today is a good example, Sam. We take your red truck out for a simple test drive and we get run off the road by a couple of nut-heads. Our entire summer has been like this, a continuous series of one frightening episode after another.

They were now standing nervously at the rear door of the farmer’s weather-beaten bungalow. Sam was quiet, thinking about what Howie had just said. He was lost in his thoughts as he rapped loudly on the solid wooden door at the rear of the farmer’s house. He was thinking about their experiences over the past several weeks. Yes, he had to admit that Howie was speaking the truth. This summer had been exciting, weird, frenzied, and at times just plain scary.

Sam’s mind was jolted back to the present day and hour as he heard the sound of heavy clomping footsteps approaching the door from inside the farmer’s home. Sam and Howie both looked up at the door with anticipation and some dread….How would the farmer accept the news that his barbed wire fence was broken and his chicken house demolished?

The ornate door knob on the rear door turned with force. The massive solid wood door swung inward revealing a reddish-faced man standing tall in a red and blue plaid hunting shirt. His brawny muscular arms were cradling a 12 gauge shotgun across his bulging chest. His steely grey eyes stared down at Sam and Howie, penetrating their inner most thoughts.

Shaking with dread, Sam and Howie just stood there aghast with mouths open, not able to utter the first word. As they gawked at the large man with the menacing shotgun, the events of the past few weeks flooded through Sam’s mind. He could recall at that very moment every single exciting event that had happened during the summer—the entire sequence of frightening episodes that had led up to the present day.

Yes, the days and weeks had passed quickly. Sam vividly remembered that the adventure had started on that warm afternoon just two months ago in the month of June.

He could recall the very day it all began.

2

Sam had glanced up at the 1942 calendar hanging on a nail sticking out from the side of the china cupboard in the kitchen. It was June 10, a date he had circled in pencil. Today Howie, his cousin, was coming from Ohio for an extended visit to The Haybend Farm, Sam’s home in north central Indiana. Sam had remained in the kitchen after the noon meal. He was anxiously waiting for his cousin to arrive. He started pacing back and forth in front of the electric cook stove.

Sam’s mother, Millie, looked up from scrubbing the dinner dishes and demanded, Will you stop that constant walking. You’re making me nervous. Howie will be here soon enough.

When Sam looked out the kitchen window, he saw a tan car enmeshed in a cloud of dust coming up the gravel lane slowly approaching the house.

Here they come up the lane! he shouted as he rushed for the rear porch door.

Howie with his parents, Francis and Lenora, pulled up under the shade of the maple trees in front of the farmhouse. Sam ran ahead of Wilmer, his father, and Millie, his mother, to welcome their visitors. Millie, less than enthusiastic about the visit, lingered behind. Reluctant to extend cordial greetings to Howie and his parents, Millie was worried about the condition of her house. She remembered Lenora’s reputation as a very immaculate housekeeper. Let’s see, did I dust the furniture in the spare bedroom? Millie asks herself silently. Did I lay in enough groceries? Am I ready to listen to Francis’ constant talking? Oh well, they are here; I’ll just have to make the best of it.

Sam, however, is very happy. His cousin, Howie, is here and they are together again. During the three years since Howie’s last visit, Sam has been keeping his eyes on a red pick-up truck that has been gathering dust for several years parked in Grandpa George’s barn located down the road a half-mile. During the previous month, Sam sold his 4-H hogs and used the money to buy the truck from his grandpa. But the truck needs several new or re-conditioned parts. Sam is sure Howie can help him find the parts, restore the truck and get it ready to drive on the public roads.

Hi, Sam, shouted Howie as he hopped out of the family car and slapped Sam on the back. It’s been three years since my last visit and our last scary adventure…. I hope you don’t have anything exciting planned. I’m ready to just relax, sit under one of these maple trees, drink lemonade and talk about your girl friend, Ginny. We’ve got a lot of catchin’ up to do.

Sam punched him on the shoulder. I have nothing planned that’s very exciting, Howie. Hopefully, you will help me fix up my red pick-up truck. Remember, we talked about it three years ago when you were here. Also, a month ago I wrote to you about finally having enough money saved up to buy the truck. I paid Grandpa George for the pick-up two weeks ago. We can go to his barn later this week and bring it here to our farm…And, what’s this talk about a girl friend?

Right, Sam; so, you don’t have anything exciting planned. That’s what you said the last time when I came to visit you; it was during the summer of 1939. We went across the road to explore the vacant house on Grandpa George’s farm. You said it was just a ‘fun thing’ to do for a day; just an interesting day of leisure looking through the old house where our great grandparents lived many years ago.

Howie paused as he looked out across the field in front of Sam’s house at the vacant, weather-worn structure still standing across the road. Well, there wasn’t anything about that old house that I would call fun. We discovered the X Y Z tools under the stair steps. That discovery started us on another frightening journey. Remember those two weird crooks, Sly and Slick, who scared us silly. Sam, this summer, 1942, I’m staying right here. We’ll have a relaxing time fixing up your red pick-up truck. I don’t think you can possibly find anything very exciting or mysterious about getting that old red truck up and running.

Okay, Howie. We’ll do nothing exciting this summer. Maybe we’ll go fishing. You’ll probably think you’ve arrived at ‘Dullsville’ before you leave for home.

Then Sam hesitated. His thoughts returned to his red truck. Looking at Howie, he was enthusiastic, We’ll have an interesting time though; first we have to buy new tires and some new or rebuilt parts to repair the truck. It’ll be a challenge to get it fixed up and running again. I got my driver’s license last week. We can drive the truck around the farm and into Manion and Van Buren. And yes, maybe we can go over and see Ginny while you’re here. She wants to meet you. Wow, I can hardly wait to get started.

Glancing at Sam with an understanding look on his face, Howie smiled and grabbed his old, faded green and red checkered suitcase out of the trunk of the car. He knew Sam and Ginny were classmates at Van Buren High School and were very fond of each other. Sam had often mentioned Ginny in his letters.

Howie slammed the trunk lid shut and joined Sam as they walked slowly toward the large white farmhouse decorated with green shutters. As they neared the rear porch door, Howie began to chuckle.

What are you laughing about, Howie?

Sam, when I look up at that trellis nailed to the front of your house, I recall three years ago when you climbed all the way to the top. The trellis broke loose and you rode it all the way down to the muddy ground during that horrible thunderstorm. Remember, that happened after we ran over to the vacant house at midnight to see if there was a shadow of the letter Z on the bedroom wall.

Yeah, that was scary, replied Sam, as he slapped Howie on the back. But we’ll have none of that kind of excitement this summer. As they climbed the creaking stairs to Sam’s room, more fond memories returned as they both remembered solving the X Y Z mystery.

When they entered Sam’s bedroom, however, their attention abruptly focused on the present. Howie noticed several large pictures of trucks and cars stuck to all four walls with tape. He dropped his suitcase on the floor and gazed around the room. Sam, I really like these pictures. This one of the 1939 blue Hudson 4-door is a dandy. Look at the price tag: $695, without a heater; it would take me a long time to save that much money. And look at this red, 1940 Mercury Coupe with a 95 horse power V-8 engine that sold for $987.

Yeah, and look here at this picture of the 1940 Ford convertible, Howie; it’s a beauty for $849. I don’t think we are going to see any more new cars for awhile. All the automobile plants are switching over to making tanks, airplanes and trucks for the war effort.

Moving on to another picture Howie pointed and remarked, Sam, look, running boards were $10 extra on this 1940 Dodge sedan that sold for $905.

Then Sam pointed to a large picture hanging next to his bedroom window. Howie, the best picture is this one….a 1934 red Chevy pick-up truck. This is what my truck will look like when we get it running and all shined up, ready for the road.

Wow, what a beauty, Sam. I’m looking at that grille. The vertical chrome strips make the truck look real modern. And see, the front bumper begins to wrap around the fenders to streamline the front end. And the chrome hood ornament gives the truck a real up-to-date look. Yeah, it’s a classy truck all right.

Howie stood back, admiring the red truck in the picture. I’ll have to admit, Sam, I haven’t been very enthusiastic about getting my hands all greasy working on your truck. I don’t look forward to having my knuckles banged up and my hands and arms scratched as we replace parts. But now, after seeing this picture of the red pick-up truck and listening to you describe the end result, the project seems like a real challenge. When can we get started?

We’ll start tomorrow. The first problem we face is getting the truck out of Grandpa’s barn where it has been stored for years and bringing it here to our farm. Dad has emptied out a space in the tool shed for us to use. That way we will be out of the weather as we work. Dad has all kinds of tools. He said we can use any tool as long as we put it back where it belongs.

But, Sam, how do we bring your red pick-up truck here to Haybend since the motor doesn’t run?

Dad has some ideas about getting the truck here to our tool shed. He said he’ll tell us about it tomorrow morning at breakfast. He doesn’t want to discuss the truck tonight. He wants to hear about you and your family. We have a lot to talk about while we eat supper. It’s been three years since your last visit. Come on; let’s go on downstairs. I smell liver and onions.

Howie wrinkled up his nose and followed Sam down to the kitchen.

3

The following morning the sun emerged on the horizon above the rural landscape in north central Indiana as a large, vivid, yellow-orange semi-circle. It reminded Sam of the yolk of an egg being fried ‘sunny side up’. White fluffy clouds floated motionless overhead. They appeared as piles of cotton glued together in layers of gold and blue. Indeed, it was a beautiful summer morning at The Haybend Farm.

Sam and Howie were sitting on the edges of their chairs at the well-worn kitchen table that was covered with a yellow and blue checkered oilcloth. They were anxious to go to their Grandpa George’s place to bring Sam’s red pick-up truck home. Their parents were discussing the ongoing planting season on the farm. Uncle Francis was explaining in detail the advantages of two new varieties of soybeans. He reminded Wilmer that he had several bags of the soybean seed for sale stacked in the trunk of his car.

At the first break in the conversation Sam loudly asked, Dad, how are we going to move my red pick-up truck from Grandpa’s barn to our tool shed?

I’ve been thinking about that, replied Wilmer. He settled back in his chair and continued, We can take our farm truck and remove the side boards we use when we haul grain. Then we’ll have a flat bed. When we get to Grandpa’s barn we can use the side boards as planks to make two ramps down from the flat bed to the ground in front of the red truck. We’ll attach one end of the block and tackle to the front of the flat bed right back of the cab. The other end can be attached to the axle of the red truck. We’ll all grab the loose end of the block and tackle rope and pull the red truck up on top of the flat bed. We’ll tie it down and haul it here where we’ll reverse the procedure. Your pick-up truck can be pushed backwards into the tool shed where you and Howie can work on it to your heart’s content.

There was a moment of silence. Then Wilmer, glancing at Howie and Sam, cautioned, I hope you both realize that getting that truck running again is going to be a big job. You may never get it out on the road.

Ignoring his dad’s pessimism, Sam asked, But, Dad, why can’t we tie one end of a rope to the rear of our farm truck and the other end to the front bumper on my red pick-up truck? Then we can just pull it here to our farm.

We can’t do that because all four tires on your pick-up truck are flat. We might damage the wheels.

Well, let’s get started, suggested Francis impatiently, pushing his chair back from the table.

Before they could stand up, Millie interrupted by clearing her throat. She had been fidgeting as she listened to the conversation. She put down her fork with a bang and looked sternly at both boys. Everyone looked at her to hear what she wanted to say.

The kitchen was quiet as she began. Sam, I am at a loss to see how you and Howie can possibly get that red pile of junk running so you can drive it on the highways. It has been rusting away in your Grandpa’s old dilapidated barn for years, collecting dirt and bird poop.

And another thing…, she hesitated as she pointed her finger at Howie and Sam, you boys are not experienced in repairing machines. You don’t know the first thing about fixing up that dusty junk heap. And where are you going to get the money for new parts? You’ve already spent almost all of the cash you received from the sale of your 4-H projects. You used the money to buy the truck from your Grandpa George.

She took a sip of coffee, and then continued, raising her voice. If you should, by the greatest stroke of luck, get the truck running and out on the road you will always be making repairs and walking home because of break-downs. Then you will be begging us to buy you a good truck—one that will run.

No one said a word. Exasperated, Millie looked at her husband and fired a final salvo, Wilmer, put a stop to this red pick-up truck nonsense before it empties our meager bank account. We have hardly enough money to keep this farm running.

Now, Millie, relax. Repairing that old truck will give Sam and Howie a good opportunity to learn how a gas engine operates. And, the truck may not need expensive repair parts. Grandpa George parked it in his barn years ago because he didn’t feel like driving all over the countryside to find the parts to keep it running. Sam and Howie have the time, the energy and the desire to find the parts and get the truck repaired. I think we should all help and give them our support. I’ll keep a close eye on the expenses. He shoved his chair back, wiped his mouth on his shirt sleeve and stood up, indicating an end to the discussion. He motioned for the two boys to follow him.

Millie’s eyes followed them out to the rear porch. She firmed her lips, frowned and sighed. She thought to herself, This is going to be a long, frustrating and expensive summer. And why does Sam need a pick-up truck anyway? I guess I don’t understand why every teen-age boy wants to own a pick-up truck. We have a perfectly good farm truck and a car. He can drive either vehicle whenever he wants to go somewhere.

Then Millie continued, mumbled out loud, And gas costs 15 cents a gallon. With rationing going on because of the war, we are allotted only four gallons of gas per week for pleasure driving. Oh dear, I hope Sam comes to his senses and waits until this war is over before he starts to work on that truck. She sighed, got up from her chair and walked heavily over to the sink where she began to scrub the breakfast dishes, much more vigorously than usual.

4

Wilmer, Francis, Sam and Howie disappeared out the rear porch door. They quietly kept up a rapid pace toward the barn where Wilmer’s farm truck was parked. Their eyes were riveted on the ground before them. Sam especially was lost in his thoughts. He was picturing in his mind driving his very own shiny, restored 1934 Chevy red pick-up truck. He could hardly wait to start making the necessary repairs.

Suddenly, the loud roar of engines above them captured their attention. As they halted and looked skyward with open mouths three small biplanes appeared, flying at a very low level. The lead plane, losing altitude fast, barely cleared the barn roof. The engine was sputtering and back-firing, sending out puffs of black smoke. The plane, now gliding only 50 feet above their heads, began to shudder and shake. They could clearly see the pilot in the rear open cockpit, his frightened face a picture of fear. The front cockpit, usually occupied by a flight instructor, was empty.

Dad, why are those biplanes flying so low? Sam shouted above the roar of the planes’ engines.

I don’t know, Sam. They look like those Kaydet Biplane Trainers. Look, each plane has a white star and number on the side. I’ll bet the planes are from the air base outside Manion. That airport has been taken over by the U. S. Army Air Force as a training base for pilots.

That pilot in the front plane is in real trouble! shouted Howie, pointing at the crippled aircraft. The plane’s wheels just clipped the tops off one of the tall maple trees in front of your house!

Look at that! The plane just cleared the roof of our house by inches. It’s going to crash in the hog lot back of the house, shouted Wilmer.

The plane’s engine belched out a final loud backfire and stopped dead. Howie looked at Sam. Francis looked at Wilmer. Then they all started running fast toward the small field back of the house. As they sprinted around the corner of the house they could see the plane as it swooped down, sheared the top off a large hog house and crashed in the mud beyond. The wheels hit the soft, mucky ground and quickly mired down to the axle. The plane’s tail then tilted straight up toward the sky. The propeller and front part of the engine disappeared, buried deep in the soft oozing mud.

There were several large hogs snorting, grunting and sleeping contentedly inside the dusty hog house when the biplane sliced off the roof of their abode. Hearing what sounded like an explosion, they bounced awake and looked with alarm at the open sky above them. Squealing with terror, the 200 pound hogs all tried to get out of the two small open doors at the same time. The door frames collapsed which made the walls of the building fall inward on top of those frightened hogs remaining inside. One large hog, named Pork and Beans by Sam, went completely berserk. The hog jumped up and over the rubble, then galloped wildly and blindly between Francis’ legs, lifting Francis up and off the ground.

Sam, Howie and Wilmer watched with amazement as Pork and Beans ran through an open gate and rounded the corner of the house with Francis riding the hog backwards, grasping the tail as he tried to stay astride of the beast. Loud cries of Whoa! Stop! Whoa! and Help! were heard as Pork and Beans, with Francis bouncing up and down on his arched back, disappeared in the distance heading for the barn.

missing image file

The propeller and front part of the engine disappeared

Howie and Sam looked at each other and burst out laughing. They were still doubled over, howling with laughter when they heard Wilmer yell, Sam, come with me. We’ve got to see if the pilot of the plane is hurt.

Then he smiled as he added, Howie, run and find out if your dad is still riding Pork and Beans. I have an idea he was bounced off and is lying on the ground somewhere in the barnyard.

Wilmer and Sam approached the downed plane with caution. They could easily see the scared pilot. He was hanging by his safety harness inside the open cockpit. The engine was quiet except for some hissing noises coming from the hot metal in contact with the soft wet mud.

Be careful, Sam. This plane could burst into flames at any time. We’ve got to get the pilot out quickly. See if you can help support the plane in an upright position. I’m going to climb up on the wheel struts and help the pilot get out of the cockpit.

Okay, Dad, I’ve got a good grip on this top wing. Maybe I can hold it steady.

Wilmer gingerly