Y’know, sometimes you think of crazy stuff to do. And it makes you laugh. But you would never do it, or even tell anyone for fear they would turn down the corners of their innocent mouths and shake their heads and move slowly away. But when you’re the author of such a fine column as PSEUDO NEWS in the LBSPY, there are many things you can get away with, like this story. So, get your handkerchiefs out, it’s S’NOT NEWS.
I was driving through Sinks Grove the other day and I saw an old Volvo that some coot buried trunk down in a sink hole. I heard from the neighbors that the battery is still hooked up and on some evenings this fella climbs up a little kitchen ladder, hefts himself into the driver’s seat, and turns on the radio, heading for the stars.
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I went out there and waited across the street where the old Burger Joint used to be before it burned down. It got cold, but I waited it out, faithful journalist that I am.
Sure enough, an old white-haired man came out of a home I would best call unrecovered civil war history. He climbed the ladder, hefted himself into the upturned Volvo and let the door close behind him. The lights came on; two beams pointing towards Andromeda. Then I heard the faintest hint of harmonica music.
I couldn’t stay in my car. I had to find out who this guy was. Perhaps he was an alien, or deranged. I wandered over to the Volvo, reached up, and knocked on the door. The window came down, but not actually, it went over. He looked out.
“Zup?” he asked.
“Can you tell me what this is?” I said. “I’ve never seen anything like it.”
“Well, I couldn’t sell the car,” he confided. “So I thought the next best thing was to immortalize it. My neighbor had a back hoe and we dug this six foot hole, and pushed the thing in there. The grandkids love it.”
I asked him if I could join him and he said, “Both doors work. Move the ladder.” So I took the ladder and went to the passenger side of this wannabe spaceship and climbed in. When I got comfortable he reached into a cooler in the back seat and handed me an Old Milwaukee.
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“Beautiful night for stars,” he said and turned off the lights. We watched as the Pleiades and Aldebaran drifted by and he entertained me with sweeet stories of the sixties and soulful music.
For all of foolishness, your Sinks Grove Correspondent, Larry Berger
LBSPY #72, December 2015