Summer 1978
Nick and Tim fight over the flashlight they have to share as the other kids are running to and from the woods. Ned told them not to let the batteries go dead although Paps seems to have no problems supplying more from a drawer in his Covered Wagon hardtop.
They had slept in a tent as guests on Paps and Gramma’s lot where they were club members at the Griddle Greasers’ campground. This weekend the grounds takes its turn to host two other clubs in an annual jamboree of sorts with a huge picnic and the biggest wood pile that Nick had ever seen in a firepit, stacked as high as a door - at least. And true to their name there are a LOT of pancakes poured on Sunday morning with corresponding counts of sausage links.
By late afternoon the grounds had filled up with RVs pulled by pickups and station wagons, and with each hour there were more kids roaming around, and as the grownups mingle the woods grows more haunted as the sun sets further. They had already explored the mostly-open lot behind the clubhouse, at the other end of the trail, where some older kid asked to point their flashlight at a few trees to try and locate someone, but they weren’t behind the first tree, nor the second, nor the third, so the kid thanked them and moved on.
The family had all walked the trail before the place got so crowded, with the boys out in front playing with sticks and not allowed to go out too far ahead, the usual, but now, well, to Nick it’s a black wall, but, it’s where everything seems to be going down tonight.
And of course, Tim wants to hold the flashlight and leads the trepidatious trek back in.
Nick is torn, since it’s too dark to run back to the meeting hall by himself. So, by default he follows his brother into the void and tries to ignore the goosebumps, step by step, crunch by crunch, past the outhouse with the moon on the door, between the first trees. Once they are in just a few feet another flashlight appears further in and Nick nearly blacks out, then they hear voices, teenage sounding, who eventually just run past them holding their own flashlights to their faces and make scary noises as they pass. Nick swallows hard then keeps following Tim, a few more steps then a voice behind them almost sends him to the moon,
“Hey, turn off your flashlight or you’ll get night fright.”
Tim blows it off, “Yeah right.”
Nick turns around to see a strange reddish glow nearly at face level, actually, someone’s hand over a flashlight, but that’s all it takes,
“WAHHHHHHGGGGGHHHHHH!!”
Nick somehow runs around whomever is behind him and instinctively flails his arms to find any brush but manages to clear the opening and see the clubhouse pole lights, passes the regular-sized fire pit near their campsite and before long the enormous campfire comes into view, just has to dodge some shadows, then he passes the big pit, no longer screaming but, wait, where the hell are his folks?
Someone stops him, “Hey are you lost?”
Nick ignores the man and keeps running around, there are groups in lawn chairs, kids on the swingset, where would they be?
He heads into the clubhouse and manages to find Paps sitting with some cohorts and runs up to him.
“Hey there partner, oh, wow, looks like you had a little trouble, let’s find your momma.”
As Paps scoops him up, Nick realizes his shorts are wet.
* * * * *
Earlier that spring something had appeared in his kindergarten room, or, maybe dropped from the heights of heaven: a collection of life-sized tinker-toys, well, not an entire set but some rods that were as long as he was tall and then the round spoke-hub thingies.
Whenever he could hog Tim’s set at home he spent hours trying to make an airplane, sometimes he tried for a huge airliner but usually settled for a Cessna/Piper kind of thing – or at least what he could convince himself as such.
And so, Mrs. Sully announces that she would pick six who wanted a turn (according to show of hands) and Nick’s heart nearly stood still, she was picking those who could sit the most still and quiet, and he closed his eyes as he folded his hands, as if during prayer in Sunday School.
Pretty soon she calls out the names, all male, no surprise, “Jerry, Trent, Brent, Tony, Scott, and Nick.”
Nick looks up and locks eyes with Mrs. Sully and sees she gets a sense of how much he wants this.
And so he expresses his intent to Trent and they go to work planning this contribution to aeronautical history, gonna need five rods for the wings, but wait – umm, there aren’t any long enough, well, there has to be three different lengths to form a right-triangle. Oh, man, maybe we just...OK so just two rods, one for each wing then, well, three hub thingies then what about a tail? So the short rod would be the...body then, yeah another hub thingy for the tail, then there should be short rods for the tail. That should be a start then they can use the two wheels for a landing gear.
But alas, another complication is quickly evident as the remaining four are amusing themselves by making barbells out of what would be the wheels and axle, and then a tail piece and two of the badly needed spoke hubs for another barbell.
Nick tries in vain to get their attention, “Hey let’s make an airplane,” but as usual, those types just don’t hear.