THE WANDERERS #8
SHINE ON HARVEST MOON – PT 1
By Rick Sieman
When we last left Carl and Emma, they had just spent a consid¬erable amount of time with cranky old Uncle Howard in Ohio. Even though Carl had lost a trail-driving bet with Uncle Howard, he managed to gain a dog; specifically, he found a mangy mutt, named him Ace the Wonder Dog, and made him a permanent part of their traveling road (and off road) show.
***
We join them now, as The Whale heads south on Interstate 77. Route 77 wanders through Canton, Marietta and farther south into West Virginia via Charleston.
The Whale lumbered through Beckley and eventually into Blue¬field at the base of the Great Smoky Mountains. The massive mountain range loomed through a slight mist, majestic enough in its own right to stand up to anything Europe had to offer.
Carl looked up ahead, as the beautiful highway climbed up and up and up. Emma sighed. "Isn't it beautiful, Carl? Sort of takes your breath away!"
"Yup. Prettier 'n a gutted deer on the hood of a pickup truck."
Emma shuddered. "Carl, you certainly do have a way with words."
"Yeh, I do, don't I? Anyways, why don't you whip out that East Coast map and see how far it is to East Carolina?"
"You mean North Carolina, don't you!"
"That's what I said. You got wax in your ears, woman?"
Emma sighed again. "Well, we have to cross the mountains, then the first big city in North Carolina is Winston-Salem. Carl, would you mind telling me just exactly where we're heading? Or am I supposed to guess?"
"Here's the deal. North Carolina is tobacco country and one of the guys at that Boron gas station back in Ohio was telling me that you could get tobacco products down there real cheap. So I figure I could save a bundle and stock up on some chew. My favor¬ite brand of chewing tobacco is actually made at a plant some¬where south of Fayetteville. Yes sir, Mule Butt Chewing Tobacco is grown, harvested and processed in a little town by the name of Harvest Moon. Boy, talking about chewing tobacco is making my mouth water. Think I'll treat myself to a plug."
Emma started to say something, but thought better of it and instead grabbed a copy of People Magazine and started to read an article about Cher running off with the entire backfield of the Green Bay Packers. After all, Carl did stop smoking those horri¬ble green cigars. Still, that habit of his of spitting out the ...
Splat! Carl ejected a wad of juice out of the window of The Whale with deadly accuracy and blasted a roadside sign dead center. Yet another mist of tobacco juice wafted back to stain the driver's side of The Whale. A constant smile creased Carl's face and he turned to Emma: "Hey, honey pot, here we are in the Rockies, the home of Blue Grass music. See if you can get some of it on the radio."
"You mean Smokies, dear."
"Yeh, that's what I said."
Emma fiddled with the dials of the impressive sound system, not really sure of what she was doing. In the back of her brain, she had this small fear of hitting the wrong button and getting ejected through the - roof like one of those fighter pilots.
Eventually she stumbled on a control that changed the sta¬tions:
"... and that was Fester Dank and the Frog Mountain Boys playin' "I Met Her Under The Haystack And Got Stuck On The Pitchfork Of Love: Next, we'll hear from White Lightning Willy and the Stump Jumpers after this message from the Lumberton Chicken Farm down near ... "
…Dial, dial, dial. . .
" ... so you figure 41 bushels an acre without Wonder-Gro and at least double that with ... "
…Dial, dial, dial . . .
" ... songs for truckers only. So send $19.95 for your 50 greatest hits, including White Line Fever, Doomsday Hill, Outta Control and Haulin' Gas, and everyone's favorite, Don't Pass Me On The Right, 'Cause I Left My Heart For You. Remember, that's $19.95, plus $3.50 for shipping and han ... "
…Dial, dial, dial. . .
" ... We'll be here for the next four hours, just a pickin' and grinnin'; so stay tuned to the happy spot on your dial. We're gonna kick it off with Dueling Jugs, by The Newton Grove Corn Squeezers. . "
"Yup, that's it Emma. Leave it right there."
The sound of banjos being plucked filled the cab of The Whale and Carl slapped the dash and jiggled his head from side to side like a demented chicken. Emma sighed for the 200th time that day and tried to concentrate on her magazine article.
Ace the Wonder Dog slept soundly, with his tail moving in time to the music and a pool of drool formed under his jaws as he dreamed about chasing and catching fat juicy rabbits.
***
About four hours later, they crossed the magnificent Smokies and descended into the heart of North Carolina. Emma fumbled with the map and gave Carl directions. They peeled off of Highway 1 near Southern Pines and headed east toward Harvest Moon.
The two-lane blacktop road soon deteriorated into a hard packed dirt road, which got worse and worse the further they went. Ruts and bumps appeared, then rocks. Small ones at first, then slabs of granite. Carl drove carefully, driving around the worst rocks and ruts and letting the suspension suck up the small bumps and obstacles. The satellite dish on the roof of The Whale swayed gently, as did the boat and the two trail bikes hung on the bumper racks.
A moment later, a deer darted in front of The Whale and Carl yanked violently at the wheel, missing the deer by inches. The Whale careened off the side of the dirt road and the stomach wrenching sound of abused metal ripped through the cab, and tree branches flew all over place!
Emma clutched her chest and yiped. "Oh, Carl! I'm so proud of you. You made a heroic effort to miss that cute little deer and you saved its life. I could just hug you!"
"Hey, save your hugs for New Years Eve when they're playing some hot Guy Lombardo music. I woulda blasted Bambi there head on with a full throttle, but if you'll recall, I got a brand new winch on the front and I don't need to get the cable all gunked up with deer guts. As far as I'm concerned. Bambi got off real cheap. Tell you what though, if The Whale is hurt real bad, I'm gonna get one of my rifles off the roof rack and hunt that pointy headed hunk of venison and make a stew out of him."
Carl wheezed and grunted as he got out of the giant Suburban to inspect the damage. Emma heard a stream of curse words come out of Carl's mouth that would have curdled milk on a cold day. Apparently not all was well with The Whale.
Carl yanked the driver's side door open and snarled. "Well, Bambi put us in a fine fix. We got a hole in the radiator from a tree branch big enough to hide a ham sandwich. Hope I can find a place that's got some torches. I can braze that sucker shut."
Emma sighed yet another time. "But Carl, we're out here on a dirt road in the woods of North Carolina. I haven't seen a house for a half hour ... oh, Carl, I'm worried!"
"Hey, honey pot, don't you worry none. Old Carl has been in tougher situations than this and still come out smilin'. Got it?"
Emma emitted a weak smile, and nodded.
Carl got out and climbed the ladder on the back of The Whale to the roof. He peered around like a very fat Indian scanning the horizon, and finally found what he was looking for. "There's smoke, Emma. No more than a mile or two away. And where there's smoke, there's people. I figure we got enough spare water with us to keep fillin' the radiator without overheating and get us there. Looks like it'll be straight cross-country, but I think The Whale is more than capable."
Carl filled the radiator with water and grumbled as he watched the water pour out, then fired up The Whale and headed off through the deep woods.
Twenty minutes and three re-filling stops later, Carl broke into a clearing and breathed a sigh of relief. There were three buildings, a half dozen trucks and all sorts of equipment around. A long tall fellow with a straggly beard ambled over and leaned on the drivers side door.
"You folks lost?"
"Nope. We got a hole in the radiator and saw your smoke. I was hopin' you might have a set of torches handy so I can fix it up. I'm sure willing to pay a few bucks."
The tall man scratched his beard. "Well, Luke has the truck with the portable welders on it, and he's, aahh, out in the field makin' some repairs right now. Why don't y'all join us for a bite and some hospitality while we're waitin' fer Luke?"
"Hey, great! This here's my wife, Emma, and my name is Carl."
"Hidee. My name is Stanhope. C'mon and sit."
"Great! Nice spread you got here, Stanley."
"Stanhope."
"That's what I said."
"Okey-dokey. You folks care for somethin' to sip on?"
Emma smiled. "Yes, a cold soft drink would be nice."
Carl chuckled. "Being an old Navy man, I could go for someth¬ing a bit stronger. Maybe a beer?"
It was Stanhope's turn to chuckle. "Oh, I think we got sumpin' that'll clear your throat. C'mon over here behind the shed."
Carl followed Stanhope behind the shed and before he stopped walking, was handed a large clear jug. "Have a sip, said Stan¬hope.
Carl tilted his head back and took more than a sip. In fact, more than a slug. What he took was a big, big, super deep drink. And before he knew what was happening, the cool liquid was in his stomach. It was only when he took a deep breath that he realized that whatever he was drinking was certainly not lemonade.
Stanhope hooked a finger through the handle on the jug and took a pull himself, then handed it back to Carl, who took a snap, then handed it back to Stanhope, who took one more drink, to Carl who really nailed a deep one, and so it went, for the better part of an hour, while Emma had some lemonade with a nice lady named Louella.
The afternoon was hot, and Carl was thirsty. After an hour or so of "slacking" his thirst, Carl started getting a bit hungry. "Think I'll jump in The Whale and fix myself something to eat, Stanhope."
"You go right ahead, Carl ol' buddy. I sorta gotta keep an eye on things around here. I'll come an get you when Luke gets back with the welder."
Carl stumbled inside The Whale and extracted some cold sand¬wiches from the fridge, then tried unsuccessfully to get them in the microwave oven for a good ten minutes before he realized that he was trying to open the front of the TV.
He giggled, then ate the sandwich cold, and promptly fell asleep with a glob of mayonnaise dangling off the edge of his chin.
An hour or so later, he was awakened by the sounds of thumps on the side of The Whale. "Hey, Carl! Luke's here with the torch¬es. Let's get your truck fixed up."
Carl's head felt a little thick, but he figured he'd better get it in gear, so he stumbled out of The Whale, blinking in the bright sunlight. There was an old International pickup backed up to The Whale and it was loaded with welding equipment and genera¬tors. Quite a rig! Luke introduced himself and they hit it off well.
A half-hour later, they'd traded some chewing tobacco around and Stanhope brought the jug out again. Carl mentioned that maybe, just maybe, he ought to get busy and fix The Whale, but Stanhope said, "Hey, there's always tomorrow, Carl. Life's too short not to enjoy yourself. Anyways, one of the women is frying up a mess of fresh catfish and ya'll are invited to partake and camp the night, iff'n ya like." Carl smiled a crooked smile at Emma, who sighed once again, then tipped the jug back and took a deep swallow.
At that point, all hell broke loose. Gunshots filled the air and a bunch of men in uniforms charged into the clearing. "Don't anybody move! You're all under arrest for moonshining! Captain Parkins here will read you your rights, but if you make a funny move, you'll hear those rights through an extra hole or two."
Emma squeaked.
"Oh, Carl ... what have you gotten us into?"
***
What, indeed. Will Carl and Emma go to jail? Will The Whale get impounded and sold at auction? Next month, we find out the an¬swers to these and several other things too weird to consider this month.
