Art & Inspiration The Friday Nite Cereal….ehrrrrr… “Serial.” Pt.1

Serial: A work appearing in parts at pre-determined intervals. More at installment.

Installment. Issued as part of a consecutively published and indefinitely continued series. Serials and installments used on major radio stations in the 1930, 1940’s and some of the 1950’s. Radio programs such as Dick Tracy (1934-1948), The Shadow (1931-1954), Amos n’ Andy, (1930-1952), Fibber McGee & Molly, (1935-1959), The Great Gildersleeve (a spin-off from Fibber McGee, 1941-1950), Buck Rogers (1932-1941) and in 1940, Superman rode the airwaves into everyone’s home three times a week in the serial until 1951. There were countless other serials on the radios back in the day…way before television ever found its way into homes. Families gathered around the radio to listen to a serial much like today’s families gather to watch a certain continuing television program…

This serial requires your intrigue, your imagination, your sound effects and your indulgence.



PART ONE – The introduction.



The morning was cloudy. Drizzly and wet with muted brightness covering the city. Rain fell off and on…most of the time gray skies flattened the horizon and hung loosely around verdant pines lining the hills across from the vintage 1950’s bungalow. The rain dripped off the now-full eaves and splattered into an upturned ’46 Ford hood…following the center indention, it ran into a series of seven upside down hubcaps of various makes, tumbling out of each into the next…making peaceful tinkling sounds and then splashing onto still blooming flowers, soaking the leaves and bending them over. Stubby leaned against the rough hewn 2 x 4’s and gazed out the door, lost in thought. Now and then his thots and attention would focus on Blade, his pal…he knew Blade would show, regardless…there was no way out, now…he couldn’t back out in any way, shape or form enuff to save face, his face. The name-calling was finished, the machismo useless…the time was now…right-now-let’s-go now.

He stood in front of Blade’s Deuce, parked on the dirt-floored single-car garage in the back yard of this South Omaha neighborhood, one of the city’s older areas…the perfect place for a 1932 Ford. He watched the street, waiting, for over an hour at this point. Rain pattered the street and driveway…two old strips of 24 inch wide concrete, weathered with age…leading from the street, through the chain link fence-gate, usually kept closed and padlocked. A combination of weeds, grass and tiny Johnny Jump-up flowers, enjoying the blessed wetness, grew between the cracked strips.

The rusty-hinged wooden single garage door stood half open and the shiny black chopped three-window sat forlornly under the single 100 watt light bulb. Wasn’t much room for anything else in the old garage, save an extra flathead pushed in the corner and covered with a few old towels. The full-fendered coop was ready…had been since last nite. The tools Stubby used to tune up the coop had been replaced on the pegboard, wiped clean and situated with great care. Blade insisted on it. The narrow Masonite countertop held only the paint spattered ancient AM radio, shoved in the corner, an early dog-dish V8 hubcap, now nearly full, serving as an ash tray, a couple of greasy rags pushed in the corner and four long necks, empty…labels peeled off three.

Stubby wished he’d hurry, but knew Blade chose his own time. He shivered as the Midwestern cold invaded his heavy leather jacket…he tugged at the zipper, trying to ward off the dampness. Winter’s not-to-distant ragged fingers clawed at him and he swore he wasn’t going to stay in this state any longer than need be…he hated winter, Midwestern winters, wasn’t looking forward to it and longed for the sunshine of some place like Arizona, Florida or California. But, until his ship came in, until he hit the lottery, or until Blade took him along as a partner, he dreaded spending another lonely winter here. September’s cold rain always precluded an extremely cold, snowy winter.

He felt the urge to light up, had to unzip the jacket, slip his arm out and unroll a half full pack of Lucky’s from the left t-shirt sleeve. Tapping the head of the cigarette against a well-worn 2 x 4 angling across the garage door, he walked back to the counter, noticed the box of stick matches held only two broken matches, heads missing. He slipped the butt between his lips, remembered a book buried in his back pocket and fumbled for them. Once the book was liberated, he opened it and struck the red-headed piece of stiff cardboard against the dark magic strip. Blue fire flared brightly in the dim light, turned to red than orange and lit the tobacco, he pulled a long refreshing drag. Turning the book of matches over, the large print stood out, in bold letters: “Speed costs money, how fast do you want to go? Above that, the small print was in green: Speedy Bill’s Hot Rod Emporium. Established 1952. Specializing in speed parts. Below that, in larger letters yet, a phone number and Lincoln, Nebraska.

Stubby flipped the cover over and smiled, remembering the time he and Blade stopped into that storefront in downtown Lincoln, they’d never bought parts from this outfit, but had heard about all the good stuff inside the store. The shelves were loaded with manifolds, headers, dual-four Cadillac combinations, three-two Olds combos and plenty of flathead speed goodies, some hanging on the walls and others placed conveniently on the counter… wasn’t much room to actually conduct business, just a small clear area to the left of the ancient cash register, yet large enough to hold a receipt book and a ball-point pen.

Looked like plenty of “famous” names had visited the store, too…the wide, stark white wall just past the single entry door contained the hand-scrawled names of Bonneville racers, stock cars drivers, some well-know locals, even a few Indy car names, andold time parts manufacturers like Kong, Tattersfield, Jahn’s, Joe Hunt and Fenton. Vic Edlebrock had signed the board, Whitey Jackson’s name was there and even Roy Leslie, owner of the famous 777 Bonneville Streamliner out of Denver had signed the board. Stubby liked to stand there and just read the names…and dream that someday, somehow, his name would appear on that wall, after all, no one could build or tune a flatty like HE could! As far as he was concerned, no one in the area possessed his knowledge…and never would!

The owner of the shop, Speedy Bill as he liked to be called, knew nearly everyone in the “hot rod” business… and most of them would stop in on their way to some race…or just to pick up parts that no one else had access to…except, he didn’t know Stubby…and that upset him…he vowed one day everyone would know who Ben “Stubby” Wilkocks was! Regardless, he liked that place, it was cool hanging out there at the storefront on N Street…but he’d heard Bill’s original shop over on O Street was just a bit more “friendlier,” and Stubby didn’t quite understand how a storefront could be friendly! Besides, the really “hot” motors -- Oldsmobiles and Cadillacs…Speedy Bill had several sitting around the show room…if you could call it a “show room,” those ohv’s made a lot of power and actually scared Stubby…he could see the day coming when he may be the only one in the whole United States that knew flatheads! It was a might bit crowded for the engines on the floor and the one Saturdays they stopped in near impossible to move around in the store, it was real crowded. He grinned, folded the matchbook and slipped it into his back pocket again. Damn, Blade, I wish you’d hurry, I’m getting tired of waiting out here, in the cold…you coulda at least left the kitchen door open so I could grab a cup of coffee to warm me up some. Hate to tell ya this, but this race simply ain’t going to happen today if you don’t get your ass down here!

He rubbed his clean shavenhead with both hands and brushed his ears vigorously…they were getting colder by the minute…and so was his head…guess it’s time to get out that military issue old black stocking cap. Damn, I hate the cold. Stubby sometimes wished he still had all his hair the Marines shaved off…and even tho he’d been out of the military for nearly six months now, he’d kept it cleanly shaven for some strange reason, unknown to him so far. But, when he’d gotten out of the service, mustered out in San Diego in the spring, he didn’t think he needed it…he’d forgotten what Midwest fall and winters were like. Best part, at least, he didn’t have to worry about combing it back into a DA like Blade did everyday.



* * *



Hmmmmm, how ‘bout that? OK, let’s review… we know what’s sitting in the garage. We know there’s a race brewing…but we don’t know with who…and don’t know why. We know that Stubby, originally from Lincoln, Nebraska, is a flathead expert, albeit relatively unknown in the correct circles. We know he has an ego…and we know he’d like it to be stroked. What we don’t know: who Blade is…and how he got that name, perhaps that’s simply a nickname…and we don’t know how he came to own a gorgeous 1932 three-window coop…now ready to race…and we know absolutely zero about him! Stubby does seem to be a decent sort, right?

Guess what? It’ll all be revealed…in time. You’d better plan on coming back just to check off the next part of the story, next Friday nite…Oh, bring a six-pak with you.

C Yaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa,

R-

Copyright, 11-05- RAJetter/Aden Rush


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Tease!!! Just leave a guy hanging, full of questions why doncha............

 

We gotta wait til next week!?!?!?!?


jerry

 

Yeahhhh...this could be fun! I'm liking it!

 

I thought they outlawed cliff hangers...man i hate waiting..no teasing its not cool..the story is though! i will be here next friday now i just have to get through a week of mental what if's

 

Roger, I know I haven't been around for a while but when I check in, ya hit me with another cool read with more to come!! Your talent never ceases to amaze me!! Keep up the good work. Bill

 

Roger, you're really a sadist, bud.... You're gonna drive us all crazy for a whole week!. Guess I'd best buy your book so I have something to fill my time in between the Friday Night Read's.


Jan

 

gather round newbies, grenade inspectors and everybody else. oughta be good...

40studedude... ya goin to the HAMB drags, man? i think i'll be there if they'll let my 65 impala in!

 

...Oh, bring a six-pak with you....

...Lightweight!... I'm in for this type of read...Ken Schmidt(Rolling Bones) did a serial for Hop Up mag online...it was fun. Go Roger...

 

Lightweight? LIGHTWEIGHT? oh, wait, you're talking about the beer?

Thanx 3-W, appreciate it...and the rest of you guys too...

Chromed Rat...Yep, I'll be at the HAMB drags (good Lord willing and the creek don't rise!!!)...shouldn't be a problem with your '65...there's been later stuff run there...but contact Ryan to make sure...

R-

 

The thing that's puzlin' me the most is 'why are they racin' in the rain?'...stay tuned boys and girls...

 

Hey, that is a great read!!! cant wait for more.
Do you have any stories about a menacing black 57 hardtop with 3 two's terrorizing the area? I have read about so many cars descibed in your stories that I cant recall.


later, jeff

 

Larry, Larry, Larry (3-W)...they're not racin' in the rain...they're not racin'...not yet anyway! The actual race is coming...this is just the "build-up" to the story! Oh, you already understand that! OK, OK, I didn't know, I just thot... ahhhh, nevermind!

Hard to say on that blak '57 with three-two's around the Omaha/CB area, Hiboy32...back then you had to have a car capable of keeping up with the new '60's "muscle" cars coming out...I don't recall that one, but then there were a ton of '57 hardtops running around..and blak was a very popular color back then...

Thanx, guys, for the read...

R-

 

I was actually askin about your usual stompin grounds , around Fremont. That might narrow it down a little. Thanks for replying.

I was also wondering about that race coming up on rainy evening.



jeff

 

Hey Jeff...no, don't recall a blak '57 w/three-two's standing out around Fremont...but there were lots of "hot cars" there as well..and we didn't know everyone that had a cool car...some were very intimidating and the owners were very big and very mean!

As for the story...stick around...you'll meet the Duece's competition on Friday...

Thanx,
R-

 

You mean we got to keep the cold, damp feeling ALL WEEK? That's just mean, Roger..........OK, I'll be back Friday nite!

 

AAhhhhhh come on Roger,,,,

the suspense is killing me,, OK I guess I have to wait along
with everybody else.
PS.... the minor is back on the road with 600+ hp, drove it
to hot rod breakfast Sun. morn,,,7:00 am open pipes that was fun
nabors love it, I am almost ready for the drags.

if I can keep it together till then

Roach