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A Day Off Part 2

"We'll see about that in a bit, Zack. But for now, you best be helping Chet with the wood, ok?" I smiled at Zack.

"Sure thing, Mr. Peters!" Zack smiled. I'm sure he guessed that he'd just added something more to the list for the day, but I just chuckled as he dashed out to help Chet.

As I wandered out, leaving the doors unlocked and just shutting them behind me, I thought about things... Zack was really good about things. Ritchie Mitchell would probably come along. Paul was right that Bud likely would stay glued to the TV all weekend, which was sort of a shame. Either that or he'd come along and just play some hand-held videogame system causing him to be oblivious to all the real-life fun he was missing out on. Lew would be there at least, and I'd figure a couple of the fire crew would be out as well, just to see what there was to see, so that'd be enough to take care of everything.

As I got to the woodshed, Chet had the sliding door open and both were chucking armfuls of wood into the tractor's loader bucket. Chet called out to me. "Where do you want this all, Jim?" he asked.

"Just dump it on that bit of lawn to the left of the Quonset doors, Chet, next to the light pole. We can grab it from there and put what we don't use inside when we're through!" I called back.

Chet gave me the thumbs-up and finished loading the bucket as I walked through the sliding door by the pumphouse and headed back across the lawn to the Case. I saw Chet had brought the ATV trailer, and I smiled knowing we'd need it if we were to take the 105 with us, as well as for the big charcoal grill. I arrived back at the traction engine to notice there was a light but steady stream of steam issuing from the whistle. Not enough to have it start sounding, but enough you could hear the hiss of it all.

"I hope I didn't mess anything up, dear." Julie's expression was one of concern. I kissed her cheek and lifted the wrench down from the whistle cord. "No, I don't think you have..." I took my gloves from the seatbox and put them on. Opening the firedoor I saw she'd thrown some wood in, and it was fine. I shut it and smiled. "Nope, everything's fine."

Julie looked visibly relieved at that. "Good... I didn't want to blow it up or anything." She looked down a bit and I lifted her chin. "It's alright... no need to be embarrassed. You were just doing something you were completely unfamiliar with and without any direct guidance. It's natural to have felt overwhelmed, but you did just fine."

Julie hugged me and I wrapped an arm around her just as I heard the work tractor fire up and saw through the gap of the pig yard Chet and Zack pull out from the woodshed and head across the lawn there to the drive. Chet was driving and Zack was on the left-hand running board of the tractor, hanging onto the handles as they bounced along and then onto the gravel drive towards the Quonset.

"What are they doing?" Julie asked.

"I had them load some more wood into the bucket for the Case and then I'll have them set up some more stuff. We'll be ready to roll in maybe... another hour? This girl will be ready in about 20 or 30 minutes, but there's some other stuff to do before we start rolling down the road." I smiled.

"I hope you know what you're doing, Jim... sounds like an awful lot of work for a day off." Julie smiled. "But then again, I know you like to play as hard as you work, and it usually ends up fun for anyone around you." She gave me a squeeze and dropped down. "What should I wear? I don't exactly dress like you and Chet." Julie looked concerned seeing how my pants had gotten a little dirty already.

"In the bureau somewhere I have a smaller pair of blue overalls like this, a lot more worn. They should fit you fairly well. Just put them on over jeans and some T-shirt you don't mind getting dirty, or one of my not-zoo work shirts should fit alright as well." I smiled down at her as I glanced at the pressure gauge rising. She nodded and headed back to the house. I knew she had some leather work boots and figured she'd wear those as well, which would work perfectly. I ducked over to the fireman's side and looked at the water glass and saw it only had a little gap at the top. A bit too much water, but that was to be expected for a start-from-cold situation. I dropped to the ground as Chet pulled up and dumped the bucket of wood there next to the wall of the shed.

"Now where's this wagon?" he called out from the driver's seat, idling the engine down.

"It's behind that building there!" I hollered up, pointing to the unpainted wooden sawmill building. "Just take the drive to the edge, and start heading around the other side, you'll see it parked close to the short wall in back. You'll have to turn the tractor around and bring it this way, but that should be alright. Check the tires first for any flats. Not that it'd matter in pulling it out, but once you get to the drive it'll matter more."

Chet nodded and then backed away. "Pins are in the toolbox!" I hollered after him, to which Chet nodded again as he put the tractor in what looked to be second gear and headed off for the sawmill building.

As Chet and Zack headed off to get the large hayrack, I dropped back down to the ground and poked around near the door of the shed for the coal shovel. Finding it, I got back to the deck and lifted the coal gate on the driver's side hopper and opened the firedoor. As I expected, it was about right to start using coal for the fire and I got a scoopful and scattered it about the coals of the wood fire near the door, then another scoop further forward. Some more pieces of maple to plug the "holes" and then I let her cook for awhile. The coal started coking and a bit of greenish-black smoke issued from the stack, but I'd scattered it loosely enough that the unburnt gassing was short-lived and soon the combination of wood and coal smoke was reasonably clear again.

Chet and Zack came putting along into view on the drive pulling the long hayrack and I went forward to direct them... as they pulled around the corner I had them stop in the drive with the wagon reasonably close to the long concrete stoop of the old piggery.

"This how you want it?" Chet asked.

I nodded and called back, "Yeah, that'll do. Zack can pull the pin and you can put the tractor back in the woodshed. I don't think we'll be needing it for anything else for the time being."

Chet nodded and Zack dropped down off the running board to pull the hitch pin for the trailer and put the pin back in the tray behind the tractor's seat. Chet then pulled forward and started off back for the woodshed, turning about in the broader part of the driveway just ahead and going back past us. I got up onto the seat of the old farm wagon and tighened down the brake wheel. Though it had been made from the running-gear of a relatively modern hay wagon, this one had been purchased from an Amish farm and it had been modified to have mechanical brakes on the rear, a seat and dashboard on the front, and that it was a fair bit longer by several feet than originally constructed.

"So, what's next?" Zack asked.

I looked to the engine, which seemed to be percolating well. I then stepped onto the stoop that ran across both the single human-access door and the double-doors of the piggery section itself. I unlatched the human door's double hooks, and went inside. This side had been modified to be a large chicken coop at some point, with a roost-rack sticking into the middle and nesting shelves near the windows facing the drive. I unlatched the communicating door between that part and the old piggery itself - identified by the large slider to the main yard, and the farrowing creep in the smaller section near the water box. On the wall facing the drive, near the communicating wall was the double doors which served as both cleanout - as they were wide enough for a tractor bucket to nudge into the shed - as well as loading dock for moving the hogs. But under my ownership it was just a storage building for the moment, though I'd always thought it'd be nice enough for a pony shed for children. The roof beams were too low for a full-sized horse, but that wouldn't matter with little Shetlands or even moor ponies. I drew back the bolt, and pulled the chain for the secondary pins as the door hinges groaned from disuse. Opening the double doors wide, light shone into that part of the shed better and it provided clear path out to the hayrack wagon.

"See those?" I pointed to black cage panels stacked along the one wall. Zack nodded. "We're going to need 22 of them set up on that hay wagon. They're all 6' tall and you'll have to find a door panel in there. You can tell those because they're built with a lot more pipes and just look different."

"Why do you need them?" Zack asked, not seeming to understand the purpose.

I laughed. "We're making a cage-wagon. Hercules, Xena and Jasmine are coming to town with us." I winked.

Zack looked at me in surprise. "Really?" he asked, likely reflexively.

I nodded. "Really. The panels aren't too heavy and you and Chet should be able to set them up. Right now I'm going to have to check on the engine and I'll be down in a bit to hook up. You can start moving panels over here. 21 standard panels, 1 door panel."

Zack nodded. "Got it, Mr. Peters."

I stepped back outside onto the stoop, then dropped down to the ground level, walked around the rear of the wagon and back up to the Case just as Chet started coming down from the pumphouse area.

"So what's next?" Chet called up to me.

"Zack has the instructions," I called back and Chet gave me a thumbs-up.

I checked the fire and it had gone down some, so I put three more scoops of coal in, spreading it around a bit. I turned the blower on just a little bit to create a bigger draw on the fire. I checked the pressure gauge and it was at 100 pounds already, another 50 to go to get the safety to lift, but that'd happen soon enough. I started tighening down grease cups on the gear, then filled up the oilers for the main axle, the eccentric disk, and other wick-type oilers on the engine. I topped off the quart pump oil can and dropped to the ground. I went around the fireman's side and, setting the oil cans on the walkway, climbed up and started oiling the front part of the engine. I tightened down the grease cups there, and none needed repacking, so I didn't really need to have gotten the grease tub anyway. I filled the mechanical lubricator with the steam oil, oiled up the gears and oil cup on the governor and checked the belt tension on it. I lay a couple thick lines of oil on the bottom crosshead guide before stepping down again.

Back to the operator's deck I went, and put the oil cans on the flat spot of the main cannon bearing that worked perfectly as a shelf. I removed most of the wood from the one hopper box and checked the coal level. Steam engines, when operating, consume a lot more water than fuel, so it wouldn't be any big deal to carry enough coal and wood for the day's activities. If I were to run on wood alone, however, the hoppers wouldn't be large enough to carry the appropriate amount. The driver's side hopper was less than half full of coal, so I dropped down to the ground and drug over a Rubbermaid-type tote that had 50 pounds of coal in it, then dumped it into that hopper. This brought it to well over half full, so I put the wood back in, stacking it vertically so it'd all fit.

I checked the pressure gauge, and it read 120... I checked the fire again and added some more coal - a half-scoop - to the dark spots so everything would burn evenly. It's important when running a coal fire to keep it all the same consistency and not have any dark spots. A dark spot indicates either coal that hasn't caught fire, or a hole in the fire - an area where there's no fuel to burn. This causes a problem because when there's a dark spot, the air will be drawn through there rather than through the actual burning fire, and that causes multiple issues when working.

There was little wood in the other hopper, and it was about half full of coal, so I just reloaded the wood in that, and then grabbed a few armfuls from the stack Chet had brought over and tossed them in. Another quick glance at the pressure gauge saw it was just over 130 pounds, still on its way up. That was good because proper operation dictates that one should test the safety valve upon startup of any boiler, just in case there be some malfunction before actual operation would commence.

I found an empty metal bucket among the stuff in the shed - likely formerly containing railroad spikes - and went forward with it. Nestling it into the gravel, I climbed up and opened the door for the headlamp on the Case. I checked it and found that the Kerosene in it had likely evaporated from lack of use and so I pulled out the whole lamp assembly and was about to set it down on the bucket to refill it when I had the chance, when I thought for a moment. The engine was close to being ready to go, and the kerosene was in the workshop. Since the shop was on the way to the drive, and I'd have to pull the engine around near there to hook to the wagon anyway, I may as well wait with that until I get over there, then I could fill the headlamp and the lanterns at the same time. I put the lamp assembly back in the casing box and shut the door. Just as I got down off the bucket, the safety valve began leaking a small stream of steam, so I put the bucket aside and hurried back up to the deck. I was just in time, and the needle of the pressure gauge registered just a hair above the 150 pound marking as the safety lifted and a loud wooshing of steam sounded forth, the upper parts of the Quonset billowing full of the vapor cloud. Chet and Zack, busy with assembling the cage panels, looked over to see what was going on, and Julie stepped out of the front door of the house to make sure everything was as it should be.

Normally it'd be wasteful to let the safety valve just go off without doing something to mitigate its effects, but since the boiler was a little over-full with water, having come from a cold start - and the fire was relatively fine, I just let it piss away as much steam as it needed to. Soon enough, the spring forced the seat closed once again and the whooshing sound stopped. I pulled the lever to make sure the cylinder cocks were open, put the engine in forward gear, made sure the drive clutch was disengaged, and gently nudged the throttle open bit by bit. Soon the engine sprang to life and started chuffing away, fast at first and then it settled down to a slower speed as I tapped the throttle closed a little. The deep and soft thuk-a-thuk-a-thuk-a sounded from the stack as the engine just idled there, the momentum rocking the whole traction engine a tiny bit, just enough it could be felt, as the old iron sprang back to life after months of laying dormant. She'd had her annual boiler inspection in mid-April, so she was legal to be out and about, so there was no worries about that.

I watched and listened carefully, making sure the valve gear and other mechanisms were working as they should be. I opened the petcock on the crosshead pump and after hissing air for a bit, it began spurting a stream of water, so I closed that and made sure the bypass valve was open. Looking over the fireman's side I verified that I had plenty of water in the glass, then with two toots of the smaller mill whistle, I shut off the engine, engaged the drive clutch, and with a pull of the throttle the old girl started to move forward under her own steam. THUK-a-THUK-a-THUK-a... gravel popping and crackling as the heavy beast of an engine started making its way forward along the short drive in front of the Quonset.

Zack had parked up close to the blasting shed, which was out of the way enough as I cranked the steering wheel to the right a fair bit, heading the engine down the small hill towards where the hayrack was parked, and I stepped over to, then leaned over the fireman's side to make sure the rear wheels would clear Zack's car when they came by it. My curve was sharp enough so that wouldn't be a problem. I checked my fire and put four scoops of coal in, spreading it about as the engine slowly trundled its way towards the hayrack and the farm drive a ways beyond.

As I started past the hayrack I pushed the rod closing the cylinder cocks and continued past until I was a fair bit up the next hill, parked across the driveway segment at the garage bays. I stopped the engine, pulled the Johnson bar to reverse, and tugged the throttle again. Three short reports on the whistle signaled I was backing up, and so I was. I had the throttle stopped fairly low as I cranked the steering wheel hard to the left, swinging the front of the engine further into the drive and aiming the back towards the tongue of the trailer.

"Zack! Hook me up!" I called out and Zack stopped what he was doing and lifted the tongue of the trailer to about the right height for the drawbar ring under the deck. I cranked the front wheels back straight, lining up more or less with the wagon tongue, then cranked a bit to the left again as I brought the engine to a stop, slightly uphill, and close enough to drop a pin in to hook up the trailer. I fished a pin out of the fireman's side toolbox and handed it to Zack, who ran it home through the wagon tongue's hoop.

"All set, Mr. Peters" Zack smiled. Chet was finishing up putting the bolts in the top pieces of the cage, so that was almost finished.

"So whatcha think? Having fun yet?" I asked, checking the fire again and adding some more coal. I checked the water and it had dropped to a normal operating level from using some as steam to run the engine down to where it currently sat. I tried the injectors, and true to form, the lower one didn't want to catch as it should. I'd probably have to replace the jets in it sooner or later, depending on how bad it'd get. That'd be another couple hundred dollars, but that's how things went. That is, unless I could find the dimensional information somewhere and make my own inserts... that was an idea... I thought about it for a moment then filed it away as Chet answered.

"I don't know about having fun, but this is a bit better than my normal days, that's for sure. Nobody's busted anything yet!" Chet jested and I couldn't help but laugh. I knew his crew at the powerhouse weren't really all that bad, but it did seem that at least every week someone screwed up something in some way or another. But then again, that was par for the course, in my opinion. It takes a lot to keep any facility up and running, and when you have the combination of the public's actions, animals doing their thing, and the natural deterioration that comes with use, there's always something needing repair, and when your workers aren't exactly the most proficient at absolutely everything, they'll screw up from time to time, just as a matter of course. So long as it doesn't injure someone when they do, it's usually just an "oh well, they just learned something" experience, to my way of thinking. And the zoo certainly didn't have the kind of money to employ experts in all fields of work... or even really in any field of work.

I knew from my own salary that I could make easily 3 times as much, if not more, at other facilities if I chose to. And met their qualifications. When I started out, I wouldn't have, but since I was already in a position of authority such things would typically be overlooked if I were to take a position elsewhere. But, in other facilities I wouldn't have the insulation, and the ease of work that I did by staying where I was, so that, coupled with my lack of desire to relocate, had me pretty much staying put.

"I think this is interesting, Mr. Peters, but I wouldn't really say it's fun." Zack chimed in, helping Chet put in some of the last bolts securing all the sections together into making it a cage wagon.

I dropped down to the ground and checked the tanks underneath the deck of the wagon. The Amish farmer who had this before had gotten creative and slung a pair of 100-gallon stock tanks beneath the wooden deck of the trailer using steel supports of various sorts. Two heavy pieces of angle iron held the tanks up from beneath, bolts and straps kept the rig from swaying, and there were sheet-steel lids on the tanks to prevent debris from getting in. The cleanout plug was replaced with a valve which I'd piped together to a single outlet valve that'd couple to my suction hose for the water pump's draw pipe, so the engine could refill its own water tanks without any external pump or pressurized water source. The same hose-end could be fitted to a strainer to use creek or river water as well, or even draw from a horse trough or any other water source more than four inches deep.

There wasn't any visible debris in the tanks, and I'd put the caps back on the pipe when I'd mothballed the rig before, so everything was ready for them to be filled once I moved it forward up to the level of the garage drive. Since Chet and Zack were finishing up on the cage, and the Case was percolating like it should be, I walked back up the drive and locked up the Quonset. I then went forward to the pumphouse and started setting up the hose for filling the water tanks on the trailer, laying it out along the lawn and leaving a coil near where I'd park the Case and trailer before heading out for town.

I looked around the corner and the Case seemed fine, so I went back in through the woodshed and grabbed a can of gasoline from there, heading for the machine shed and pens. The cats were milling about, knowing something out of the ordinary was happening, and went over to the miniature Oil Pull. I figured there wasn't likely any gas left in it, and I was right. I checked the oil, but it was fine. I filled the gas tank as well as the coolant hopper, took the little oiler from its holder and filled the cups and friction points, then unpinned and opened the large door for the building enough to get the little putt-bang out if it started. It took a fair bit of cranking the flywheel before it showed any signs of life, but soon enough the machine hiccuped, burped, and after a little longer started running as it should, more or less.

I climbed around to the miniature cab - barely big enough for an adult to run it - and sat down on the old iron seat, put it in 1st gear forward and moved the clutch lever. I halfway expected it to throw a belt or something so it wouldn't run, but with a wiggle, a jiggle, and lifting the front end a bit, it horsed itself out of the large depressions it had made for itself in the dirt floor of that part of the shed and puttered forward. From its position I had to circle the open area of the shed to line it up with the door. After that, I quickly set up and connected the steel drum "wagons" behind it and started putting my way out to the drive and around towards the front of the complex, about the same way that Chet and Zack had done earlier to move the wood with the tractor. When I came to the lower section where the Case was parked, I pulled the clutch lever back, centered the gear lever in neutral, and set the brake.

"Well, that's a nice little toy," Chet called out over the bark of the gas engine's unmuffled exhaust. "Looks like something we should have at the zoo!"

I laughed, as indeed the barrels were painted bright colors. "Yeah, that's a thought... But I don't think Jack would appreciate it so much," I called back.

I climbed up onto the deck of the Case and checked the fire. I added a little coal to it and then went back to the mini-Pull and pulled it forward up onto the lawn and looped it around so the tongue of the first barrel-wagon was near the edge. I then ran it behind my Blazer, facing towards the barn and parked it again. I unhooked the ATV trailer from Chet's truck and hooked it onto the ball I screwed into the deck of the mini-Pull. Heading back around past the Case once more, I again parked the mini-Pull and checked on the big traction engine. Chet and Zack were done assembling the cage, and I buttoned up the old piggery shed.

"So, what did you need the trailer for, Jim? I know you've got something in mind." Chet asked.

"Well, it'd be a little more work for you two, but hop on and I'll show you what I wanted it for. Zack, you can drive since you were curious about this little rig before." I smiled and sat on the front bars of the trailer. Chet hopped on as well.

"Where are we going?" Zack asked loudly, speaking over the engine noise.

"Head for the green building with the fiberglass door, around the corner." I said equally loudly.

"So, what do I do?" Zack asked, after seating himself on the mini-Pull.

"The lever with the red handle is the clutch. The one with the white handle is the gearshift. Red pedal is the brake. Right-forward is first, right-back is second, left back is reverse. Put it in gear, release the brake from the catch but hold it with your foot, and then ease the clutch lever forward, releasing the brake as soon as the engine starts taking hold. Just like in a car or tractor or anything. There's no synchronizers so don't try to speed shift from first to second." I said loudly.

Zack did as instructed and we were off, with him testing the steering a bit. Chain steering, like on the Case and most early self-propelled farm equipment, takes a bit of getting used to as it's not like the rigid steering of modern vehicles. Not to mention the worm-gear system means you crank a lot more to adjust it - hence the permanent "suicide knob" handles on older equipment. But Zack was doing fine, even though he looked worried, and pulled up to the overhead door. I unlocked the service door to the left and pulled the pins on the big door and drew the chain to roll it up some, enough for the mini-Pull to pass under.

Inside the old scalehouse was a myriad of this-and-that. Mostly things I wanted on a concrete floor lest they get damanged from ground moisture. The metal building worked well for that, but for the amount of dust still lingering from when it was a working grainery. A narrow workspace took up the one side, the old scale office was present, too, near the rear of the building. The 1920s vintage all-mechanical Fairbanks Morse truck scale was still in place, with the platform blocked up so it couldn't damage itself. I had Zack pull through until the mini-Pull was just to the platform.

I moved about to the canvas-covered objects on the other half of the building and tapped the sides of a couple to identify which they were until I found the one I was after. "Here you go, boys..." I started pushing one out that was still seated on two furniture movers. It waggled this way and that until I got it out from between the other objects and headed it towards the aisle where the trailer was parked.

"What is it?" Zack asked, beating Chet to the punch.

I drew back the cover and there was a rather curious object to be sure. Painted red, white, blue, and gold was a somewhat-replica Wurlitzer 105 military bandorgan I had made from plans years earlier... with a few additions.

Chet chuckled. "It'd figure you have something like that tucked away someplace, since you putter with the one on the carousel so often."

"Does it work?" Zack asked.

I nodded. "Sure does. Lew asked if I was bringing a noisemaker along... this one will do nicely, don't you think?"

"So... we load that on the trailer?" Zack asked.

I nodded. "lengthwise, towards the front. Still have to put the grill on and the fixings for that all." I chuckled and put the cover back on it, securing the straps to hold it in place for the trip into town.

Chet and Zack dropped the ramp on the trailer and began maneuvering the wooden wonder around to get it up onto the trailer. "The grill is in this little unlocked lean-to just outside this door..." I pointed in the general direction. "Make sure you shut and pin the overhead door and lock the service door when you leave the scalehouse. I'm going to run the Case up a bit and get the water tanks filled."

Chet nodded. "Ok, boss." He winked and I did a push-off wave as I headed back towards the steamer. I shut and pinned the door to the machine shed and headed through past the cats once again, then out through the woodshed, grabbing a can of Kerosene on my way through.

I arrived at the Case just in time as the safety was about to lift, so I started the engine and shut the bypass valve so the pump would put some cool water into the boiler to mitigate the higher steam pressure. I checked my fire and added some more coal to it in a couple spots, then shut off the engine, engaged the drive clutch, and then went back to undo the brakes on the trailer by walking the hitch like a tightrope. Back to the deck the same way, never having set foot on the ground, and with some puffing, off we went, climbing the bit of a hill before coming to rest across the driveway leading to the garage.

Shutting off the throttle and centering the reverse lever, I pulled the clutch and put the chocks under the drive wheels to prevent the whole mess from drifting any. Moving up the hill had put enough water in the boiler, and used up enough steam, for the Case to just simmer for awhile as I put the hose into the fill tube and then walked up the hill to lift the handle of the frost-proof hydrant, starting the water flowing into the tanks of the wagon.

Chet and Zack had put the door to the cage facing the rear, which was alright, so while the tanks were filling I went around back and got an old wooden ramp that was leaning up against the back of the single-bay of the garage. I was headed forward with it through the gates (one at a time, of course, so Peaches wouldn't get out), as I heard the putt-putt-putt of the mini-Pull heading around from the scalehouse.

The three of us reached the Case and cage wagon together as I flopped the ramp into place and checked the water height in the tanks. It was about an eighth full by now, which was about par for the course. The bandorgan was in place on the trailer, and apparently Chet had found some racheting tie-downs to hold it in place, likely in that little storage shed. The large barbecue grill - made from a decommissioned 100-gallon oil tank - was crossways on the rear of the trailer, also tied down, but with rope rather than strap.

"All ready, boss. What's next?" Chet chuckled.

"Next we get the cats. Zack, you can shut that down." I said loud enough for him to hear.

"How do I do that?" Zack asked with a curious expression, looking around the contraption.

"By your left knee there's a little single-pole knife switch, flip it to the position with the wire coming from it. That'll ground out the magneto and stop the engine. Use a glove or make sure to only hold the little plastic end or you'll get zapped enough to remember it." I said.

Zack first moved to actuate the switch and then he pulled his arm back quickly. "No kidding!" he said, shaking his hand as he then moved the switch properly and the engine wound down to a stop.

"Nothing like 10,000 volts to give one an electrifying experience, huh?" I winked as Chet laughed hearily.

"That could have killed me!" Zack looked surprised and concerned.

"Only if you got a pacemaker, kid." Chet said, still chuckling.

"That ain't funny..." Zack grunted, but was smiling so there was no real hurt feelings, only an educational experience.

I looked to Chet. "Jasmine, Xena or Hercules?"

"Huh?" the powerhouse chief grunted in confusion.

"Which would you like to lead out here to load up, Jasmine, Hercules or Xena?" I asked.

"Oh no! I don't mind looking at your cats or maybe even pettin' 'em, but... no way I'm gonna get drug around by one of them. Find some other sucker." Chet winked and smiled. I'd never have expected him to get that worried but... no big deal either way.

"JULIE!" I bellowed from the front drive.

A overall-clad likeness of my girlfriend popped out the front door. "You rang?" she quipped.

"Mind giving us a hand loading the cats? We're taking Jasmine and kids for a ride with us." I smiled.

"I'm loading Hercules!" Julie bopped down the porch steps with enough weight for the male wolf to stick his head out from the hatch in the lattice I'd left open for them to have yet another hidey-hole. Seeing who it was, he ducked back under the porch.

"Was that a wolf?" Chet asked. I nodded. "When'd you get him?"

"They both showed up a couple days ago. The morning of All Saints Day, actually." I shrugged.

"They?" Chet inquired.

"There's a female, too. Guess they've decided here's a good place to be." I smiled as Julie bopped over.

"Well, go ahead and get Hercules out... leashes are on the wall, like always." I smiled and Julie headed into the woodshed, having seen the sliding door was open.

"What's "All Saints Day"? I've never heard of it." Zack asked.

"It's the Catholic holiday the day after All Hallowed Eve... Halloween. Basically they co-opted a pagan harvest festival around about... 200 AD or so?... making it a christian religious holiday pairing." I smiled.

"Oh... ok." Zack said, most likely not finding the answer as fascinating as he'd expected.

Chet started walking towards the Case. "I'll keep an eye on the coffeepot while you load up your cats."

I nodded. "Ok, that works." I shrugged and passed Julie as she rounded the corner of the pumphouse with Hercules on the chain leash, having come from the woodshed's small sliding door.

Zack and I walked in the same way she'd come, Zack having watched Julie walking Hercules and nearly running into the old telephone shelf on the wall of the garage. I chuckled. "Have to pay attention around here, Zack... There's always something to bump into and be injured by."

"Yes, Mr. Peters. So... you're really going to let me just walk one of the lions or whatever out there like Julie just did?" Zack asked in disbelief.

I nodded. "Sure, unless you'd rather not. Kinda surprised me Chet was so skittish about it, but... that's just how some people are. Ain't no big deal. So.... which would you rather walk out, Jasmine the tigress, or Xena the ligress?"

Zack and I had arrived at the cage and I lifted the remaining big chain leash - the ones I got from Herbie - down from the wall, and one of my smaller chains as well. "I think.... um.... Can I walk the tigress?"

I smiled and went into the cage. Jasmine came right over and started rubbing on me as I hooked the chain around her neck and though Xena came padding over, I only was able to give her head a fuzzle and instructed her. "Xena, stay. I'll be back for you in a moment."

I moved Jasmine out of the cage, and she went through the gate quite readily without any trepidation. Zack was standing there, waiting. She started rubbing on him and I handed him the end of the chain. "Here you go. Just wait here until I get Xena hooked up and we can go out together."

Zack nodded, with Jasmine doing her best to wrap him up as she made strafing runs past his legs, begging for attention like the attention-whore she was. I couldn't help but chuckle and Xena came padding up to me, then sat as I fixed the chain around her neck. "All ready to go, girl?" I asked her. She got up onto all fours, then reared up and put her forepaws on my shoulders. From her position, a fair bit of her weight was on me, but since she wasn't wobbling or anything I could stand it for the time being and pet her chest and forelegs. "Yeah, I'm guessing you miss being out and about. But we'll change that."

I gave her a gentle nudge to the chest and she backed the half step and dropped down onto all fours again, then padded over towards the gate, which we exited and I shut behind me.

"Ok you two, quit flirting and let's go." I said and Jasmine started out the way Hercules had gone before. Xena followed Jasmine and Zack, and I shut the doors behind me as we went through the hall and out the small woodshed door. Down the drive and up the ramp, the cats behaved perfectly, with Julie guarding the door to the cage wagon and opening it for the four of us to step through. She had already removed Hercules' lead-chain and it sat on the seatbox of the wagon. I did the same for Xena, once she was in, and Zack undid Jasmine's chain.

Chet was on the engine deck and apparently the wagon tanks had started overflowing while we were back with the cats and the hose had been moved to the fill-tube for the Case's deck tank, which only now started running over. I went back up the hill and shut off the water and started coiling the hose on the hydrant head, as I'd probably need it later.

While Chet and Julie loaded the coolers onto the trailer behind the mini-Pull, Zack and I moved the "train" of barrel wagons around and hooked it to the back of Chet's trailer, using a coupling-bar I had in the mini-Pull's toolbox. The barrel wagons didn't weigh that much so it didn't really matter how we hooked them up for the trip into town. Once they had a couple hundred pounds of little snots in them, it'd be a different story, but by then they'd be hooked directly to the mini-Pull anyway.

"Well... looks like we're all set." I said as I put two water buckets in the cats' cage. "Who wants to ride where?"

Chet shrugged. "I don't really mind either way." Zack shrugged too.

"Chet, mind driving the mini-Pull into town? Or would you rather be on the engine?" I asked.

"I'll take the little putt... it looks fun." Chet smiled big. "Just hope my kids don't want one, as I'm sure it's out of my price range."

I shrugged. "Back when I bought it, probably not. But these days people go nuts over stuff like that, even with the economy in the shitter. Then again, most everything gets bought on credit these days anyway, not like how you know I prefer to do things."

Chet laughed. "Yeah, like Pete Johnson and his wife's shop-a-hol-ism."

I nodded, frowning a bit. "Yeah..." I sighed, then smiled. "Ok.. um... Julie, Case or wagon?"

Julie looked at the somewhat smallish deck. "I think I'll take the wagon," she said. "At least I can watch you then, but I wouldn't be in the way."

"Ok, guess you and I are running the engine, Zack." I smiled.

"Cool!" Zack beamed and climbed up just as Chet got the mini-Pull running again.

I pulled the wheel chocks and set them on the wagon's footboard where they wouldn't fall off. I then got up onto the deck and with two toots of the mill whistle, off we went, trundling down the hill to the farm drive and then down the mildly-rutted road. I let Zack steer as I fixed the fire, adding a number of scoops of coal. I leaned over and checked the water, and decided to try that lower injector again. With a bit of hissing, spluttering, and twiddling with the valves a fair bit, I got it to catch properly and start putting water into the boiler from the deck tank.

"How does that work?" Zack asked.

"Well, it's what's called a "lifting injector", meaning that it can draw water upwards from below. A "non-lifting injector" needs to be below the water line to work properly." I said. "Inside there's a piece of brass machined in a very specific way to form a jet, like the jets of a carbureator, but a little different. The same thing happens here as in a carbureator - the venturi effect, in that the jet of steam passing over the perpendicular opening draws water up from the intake pipe. The steam somewhat condenses as it comes in contact with the water, imparting its momentum on the water itself, pushing against the check valve forward on the pipe. If there's not enough pressure to open the check valve and put water into the boiler, the water spills out the check valve at the overflow pipe and pees out onto the ground. If there IS enough momentum, it pushes past the boiler check and puts water into the boiler - that sort of whoosing-hissing higher-pitched sound you might hear. The steam and the water have to be in proper proportion for it all to work correctly, so that's why I have to twiddle with the valves. Now that I have the water valve set, I can just leave that where it is, more or less, and only operate the steam valve to work the injector."

"Oh, sounds really complicated." Zack said, watching what I was showing on the pipe cluster and alternating with watching where the traction engine was on the road. Chet was puttering along behind in the mini-Pull and Julie was watching some, too. After a little bit I shut off the injector as there was enough water in the boiler and I preferred using the pump anyway, since it was there and the engine was running anyway. I checked the fire again and added a little more coal - only one scoop scattered about - to keep the fire where I wanted it. I leaned out and we were running clear-stack so that wasn't any big deal and was just how I preferred having my fire. I sat up on the seatbox and chuckled.

"What?" Julie and Zack both asked togehter over the slight noise of the gravel popping and crackling as the machine moved along the gravel drive.

I started tapping my foot to the sound of the exhaust beat and started singing.

Plowing these fields in the hot summer sun Over by the gate lordy here she comes With a basket full of chicken and a big cold jug of sweet tea

I make a little room and she climbs on up Open up the throttle and stir a little dust Just look at her face she ain't a foolin' me

She thinks my tractor's sexy It really turns her on She's always starin' at me While I'm chuggin' along

She likes the way it's pullin' while we're tillin' up the land She's even kind of crazy 'bout my farmer's tan She's the only one that really understands what gets me She thinks my tractor's sexy.

Julie started blushing and Zack had a big smile on as he manned the steering wheel. I checked the fire and added another couple scoopfuls of coal as I sang the next verse.

We ride back and forth 'til we run out of light Take it to the barn put it up for the night Climb up in the loft, sit and talk with the radio on

She says she's got a dream and I ask what it is She wants a little farm and a yard full of kids And one more teeny weeny ride 'fore I take her home

I stood up and sang the chorus as we neared the road.

She thinks my tractor's sexy It really turns her on She's always starin' at me While I'm chuggin' along

She likes the way it's pullin' while we're tillin' up the land She's even kind of crazy 'bout my farmer's tan She's the only one that really understands what gets me She thinks my tractor's sexy.

Julie just shook her head in mock disapproval.

I checked both ways as we neared the end of my drive, just on the off chance there was some car or pickup coming down the road. There wasn't, so I didn't even slow the engine down as I nodded to Zack, who shrugged and scooted back on the seat, clearly not quite ready to be a driver just yet. I stepped up and when it was time started cranking the wheel counter-clockwise with the same gusto needed to start one of my gas engines. The front axle started moving for the turn, and we started swinging out into the road, the trailer readily following us. I took a look back and saw the cats weren't too bothered with the panting iron horse up front so that was a good thing. Further behind, Chet with the mini-Pull just followed our lead and pulled out into the southbound lane of traffic. After centering out the steering once again, I asked Zack if he thought he could manage that from here on out. He nodded over the noises of the engine and I swung over to the fireman's side and checked the water glass again, then shut the bypass valve to add more water as we puffed along the paved road.

Now the road has a few twists and turns before it reaches the edge of "town" and the oldest of the municipal pumphouses marking its border. A few homes have crept out past it over the years, but nothing compared to the urban growth on other edges of the city. But long before we rounded that final curve by the one branch of the creek, we rounded a different corner and I hollered to Julie that she might want to plug her ears, then poked my fingers into my own in gesture. She looked curious, as did Zack who was still at the steering wheel. Both of them found out, though, why I was indicating that as I grabbed the cast lever hanging from the canopy and drew it back until the chain was tight, then moved it gradually backwards.

Out front, an old Nathan five-chime locomotive whistle started moaning softly, growing into a full-out yell. The throaty sound echoed off the hills as I tugged at the lever making it call out its old familiar grade-crossing signal of two longs a short and a final long toot. Just beyond the curve, a bit closer to the swampy area whose springs create the beginnings of the creek, a little white single-story ranch-type farmhouse sat, alongside a white-painted garage shed, a red bank barn and a couple of corncribs - one ancient, and two modern. Through a clump of spindly trees you could see the aluminum-colored screen door swing wide then slam shut and a young red-haired boy in white knee-socks, blue sneakers, blue jeans, and a red t-shirt came running up the crumbling asphalt driveway to meet us at the edge of the road.

I slowed the engine some and dropped down to the step-board, waving for Ritchie to swing up on the wagon seat with Julie. He did so somewhat clumbsily and as soon as I was sure he was safe I opened the throttle again and we continued towards town at the breakneck speed of two and a half miles per hour.

"Hi there Ritchie. Didn't your brother want to come along?" I asked.

"No, Mr. Peters. He's gonna go over to one of his friend's houses and play videogames later, if dad says yes," came the youthful reply.

"Ritchie, this is Miss Purcell, this is Zack Seffrood, and the fellow way behind you driving the little putt is Mr. Malin." Ritchie turned around to see who I was referring to and came face to face with Jasmine.

"WHOA! You have a TIGER?!?" Ritchie seemed a little scared, but also excited. I couldn't help but laugh as I'd seen reactions like his so very often at work and back when I was touring.

"Yes, that's Jasmine. Now don't go sticking your fingers in there," I said just as he was about to reach through the bars. "She's friendly, but you've not been properly introduced just yet. And that's her two kids in there also, Hercules and Xena."

Ritchie moved some on the seat, kneeling on it while holding onto the backrest. "Whoa... they're HUGE!" He exclaimed. I could almost hear his eyes widen.

"Yes, they're ligers... a mix of a lion and a tiger, and they grow a lot bigger than either one of their parents. You'll get to meet them later if your dad says you can and your mom doesn't wig out about them." I chuckled and checked the fire again. Since we were on a pretty straight stretch of road, I waved for Zack to come down and look too.

"See those dimmer spots there, and there?" I pointed to indicate the locations. Zack nodded. "Those are where the fire is burning out, so that's where you or I would need to add some coal to keep the fire burning properly. The spots that are dim flame are either fresh coal or burning out, and the ones with bright flame are alright. But you never want to add too much coal at once or it creates black smoke at the stack. Black smoke is unburned fuel just going up the stack, so you want to run as close to clear stack as you can while managing your fire properly."

Zack nodded, though it's likely he didn't quite understand what I was meaning. He'd come to understand that in time if he hung around me enough. A couple scoops of coal later and the firedoor was shut. I knew it wasn't exactly good practice to leave it open so long with the engine running, but we weren't pulling hard so it wasn't that big of a deal as far as cold-shocking the flues nor drawing across the top of the fire rather than through the bed of coals. We had been running between 140 and 150 pounds for the majority of the trip so the engine was performing well regardless. I turned the bypass valve to add some more water again as we rounded the tightest corner of the trip and when it evened out, I noticed we had two cars trailing behind the mini-Pull train. I looked forward and saw the road was clear ahead. With two tugs on the mill whistle cord, I waved the first car onward.

It wasn't anyone I knew so they just pulled past our procession and zipped along the mile or so into town. I checked and tooted again for the white pickup still trailing behind us. An arm came out the driver's window and just waved off, presumably indicating he didn't mind our slow speed. I shrugged and opened the bypass once more, since enough water had pumped into the boiler for the time being.

As soon as we hit the straight stretch just before town, the truck passed us and honked. I recognized the driver as one of the other farmers further along the road and waved to him as he waved back, ducking in ahead of us just ahead of the city limits sign. I checked my fire and the water level... I wanted the water a little high since the side of town we were coming in on was alongside a hill, and to get down to the main crossroads of the city, we'd have to descend the remainder of the hill. For a modern tractor that wouldn't be any issue, but with a steam traction engine, changes in front-to-back position meant that the water in the boiler would be higher on the downhill end and lower on the uphill end, and too steep of a grade would result in the boiler having too little water to completely cover the heating surfaces, creating an explosion hazard if the water wasn't carried way high in the boiler. High water can also result in "priming" the engine - a siuation where water is drawn through the "dry pipe", throttle and engine mechanism rather than steam only, and such a situation can damage the machinery if severe enough, or at the very least give a VERY hot and dirty shower to anyone around as it's puked out the stack.

I turned the bypass to put water into the boiler as we trundled past the pumphouse, the low-income housing block, and on the uphill side of the street a string of stately Victorian homes nestled against the hillside.

Soon we crossed the street just before Main Streeet - it really was more of an access-alley behind the Main Street businesses anymore than an actual residential street, but that was only natural from the growth of the city center. As we passed the one lot of the local Ford dealer, the sales and repair staff came out to see us trundle by. The corner motor bank employees did the same as we came to a stop at the head of Main Street.

I had Zack step down and watch for traffic from the lamppost near the motor bank, and when there was a big enough gap, with one long blast of the Nathan, our mini-parade began to make the corner and trundle down Main Street.

I'd imagine that the window-rattling sound from the locomotive whistle was enough to startle a number of people, which poked their heads out of the various doors of the businesses lining Main Street to see what the ruckus was about. The local butcher shop emptied of its white-coated workers, who waved as we rumbled past, as did one of the women working at Gentry's Bakery - family owned since 1912 - and one of the last original businesses still occupying their place on the block. Old Charlie Pierson stepped out of his jewelry shop and waved as we trundled past, with me giving a couple reports of the mill whistle in reply.

On down the street past the old Telegraph office - the local newspaper - which was for sale or rent, as the paper had been purchased by a consortium group and moved to smaller offices in the local mini-mall, which had been the biggest hardware store in town when built.

On down to the stoplight we trundled, past the old 5-and-dime store, over the creek bridge, past the restaurant my father used to manage, past the new City Hall, who had several municipal workers sitting out front watching the old iron trundle along. We came to a stop when the light indicated, and two toots on the whistle signaled for Chet to stop as well. I checked our water, which had done fine on the trip down the hill, and as soon as the light changed again, with two toots we started trundling across the intersection.

The bank emptied of probably pretty much everyone from the sounds when I signaled for my stop, and for starting out again. We'd collected some children walking alongside on the sidewalk, too, and after the corner bank and the old, Amoco station - which has been for sale for years - came a few semi-residential houses and local businesses in a house. Another couple hundred feet on the left, at the corner of that block, was the fire station which was my destination. There was Number 3, a Pirsh "quad" on 1932 Ford chassis, sitting out front of the fire station, as well as a couple of their newer trucks which they were washing. "Quad"s are four-purpose firetrucks, popular with rural communities, in that they had a water tank, albeit small, ladders, hoses, a pump, and chemical tank all in one unit, so that it could be used to respond to pretty much any type of fire call, and worked as good "starter" units for early volunteer fire departments which could then purchase other fire engines as the need arose, providing specialty functions like water tankers, ladder trucks, pumpers, etc.

I waited for traffic heading south from the other edge of town, bringing the Case to a stop. There was a bit of a lineup but soon there was a break and I whistled then started trundling around the corner onto the side-street that the fire station occupied. Up half a block, I turned into a connecting parking lot for a local repair garage, across their lot, turned the corner and headed the Case back towards Main Street in the parking lot and small greenspace adjoining the firehouse. I turned on the pump as we trundled along the side of the buildings and then pulled the clutch as we nudged up close to the sidewalk in front, letting the engine just tick over as I added more coal to the fire. One toot from the mill whistle indicated we had come to a complete stop - using railroad signals - and Zack moved over to the wagon and wound down the brake wheel.

Lew Symensma came up. "Well, see you made it to town alright." He smiled broadly. "And I see you brought some eye-candy with you. These three from the zoo?"

I shook my head. "I got them a couple months back from a fellow who couldn't keep them anymore. That's Jasmine, and her two kids, Hercules and Xena."

Lew walked over to the cage wagon and Jasmine immediately began to rub along the bars for attention.

"Friendly thing, ain't she?" Lew asked.

"Yeah, she's good," I said as a few other firefighters came over and Chet putted up alongside with the trailer. I waved for him to stop before he got past the wagon, which he did.

"Lew, mind helping Chet unhitch that trailer and hook up the little barrel-wagons to the back end of the mini-Pull?" I asked.

"Sure! We can do that!" three firefighters said, nodding. Soon the mini-Pull was ready to go and Chet whipped it around us and lined it up with the sidewalk before shutting down the gas engine.

"Neat toy," Lew commented. "Looks almost like the real thing."

"It IS almost like the real thing, apart from the engine on it, and the cab being a little taller than it should be. Whoever made it took a lot of time in getting or making parts that would look and work right." I smiled as Chet came over. Julie stepped down from the seatbox and Ritchie followed.

"Lew Symensma, this is Chet Malin, Julie Pursell, and Ritchie Mitchell." I introduced those standing in front of him. "And that's Zack..."

"Seffrood. I remember him. I think.... I caught you smoking in the park shelter a time or two, didn't I?" Lew smiled.

Zack looked down. "Not me smoking, but yes, I was there."

"I thought you looked kind of familiar. But you had ... stuff stuck on your face then." Lew smiled. "Glad to see you gave up on that.... junk."

I had to smile as Lew clearly changed his language because Ritchie was present. Not that I can blame him, since I held the same general opinion of piercings and other outlandish youthful actions.

"What can I do, Mr. Peters?" Ritchie piped up.

I looked at the engine, which was just slowly ticking over after I shut the throttle down a fair bit. "Um..." I looked to the fire crew. "How about you help Julie get the coolers off the trailer, and help her get the charcoal grill set up so these guys can get something to eat?"

The firefighters looked to each other. "Hell, we can help with that. We got some steaks here that are just dying for a grill to make them just right," one of them said, a bit thinner and younger looking than the other two. Lew couldn't help but laugh. "Doug, help the lady however she wants to. Jimmy and Ace, you two just do whatever Jim Peters here wants, ok? I'm gonna hit the head and I'll be right back."

The crew all nodded and set about unloading the grill and coolers from the trailer. A number of people started collecting around, and as it was getting towards noon, I'd imagine a number of them were getting a little hungry. One lady had a couple pre-school kids with her and the kids piped up, "Can we ride on your train, mister?"

I looked to Chet, who had settled out on the seatbox of the cage wagon. "Don't look at me, I just sat down!" he commented.

I laughed. "Zack, want to give these youngsters a ride with the mini-Pull?"

"Sure thing, Mr. Peters." Zack smiled. "Quarter apiece, ma'am," I winked at the young lady.

"A ride for a quarter? Haven't seen prices that low ever." she fished out a dollar bill. "Here... and I don't need the change. You sure that's alright?" she asked, looking the "train" over. I nodded. "It's not as fancy as some stuff, but they should have a good time." The two kids piled in and cheered when Zack got the engine to splutter to life.

"Where should I go, Mr. Peters?" Zack asked.

I thought for a moment... just a tour of the parking lot would be kind of lame. There were connecting parking lots throughout this half of the block, so that would kind of work... but still be kind of lame. "Take them around the block, Zack. You should be able to use second gear. Swing out here, stop at the stoplight, make right turns around the block until you end up parked in these two spots out front here. Even though it's sort of a glorified lawn mower, you still have to obey traffic laws and right-of-way, ok? But the only two stopsigns you'll see are the light at the corner and this one here at the other corner."

"Ok, Mr. Peters." Zack smiled and got in the cab of the mini-Putt.

"And you kids keep your hands INSIDE the cars, ok? If you do anything wrong, Zack there will tell your mother, and I'm sure she won't be happy about it."

"No, she won't," the young lady chimed in.

I waved to Zack and off he went. Traffic was staring to pick up a little bit in downtown for the lunchtime period, but that only figured. Soon enough the grill was fired up and there were hotdogs, bratwurst, and burgers cooking, as well as the fire crew's steaks. Lew got back over to us in a short time. A crowd was gathering near us and looking at the cats, the engine, and the grill. I got back on the deck and put some more coal on the fire.

I checked my watch as Julie handed me up a hotdog with onions, ketchup and mustard. It was nearly noon. "Hey Lew!" I called out, and he stepped over from the old fire truck. "When was the last time we had a noon whistle here?"

Lew scratched the back of his neck. "Early 90s sometime, why? Ohhhhh...." Lew's face cracked into a broad smile as he realized. "How much time do we got?" he asked.

I smiled. "Oh, a little over 20 minutes."

"Oh, that works," Lew said. "Hey, people are coming up wanting to buy some of your goodies. Wanna open up shop?" Lew asked.

I thought for a moment. I HAD thought of just giving away food, since I didn't have a vendor's permit. Zack came putting back up with the kids in the mini-Pull train and they bailed out while he set the brake and left the engine running. "Got a change box somewhere I could borrow, Lew?"

He nodded. "Yeah, I do. DONNY!" he hollered and out from behind one of the engines one of the firemen stepped, still holding a sponge. "Get me the petty cash box from my desk, will ya? And bring it over here along with that little card table from the meeting room!" The fireman nodded and headed into the brick structure, coming back with the aforementioned articles.

I opened the cash box as he quickly flipped open the card table. "Uh, Lew, there's money already in here."

Lew nodded. "Yeah, but I know how much. It's in a little slip underneath everything. But hell... you've brought all this shit down so I might as well trust you with a little bit of cash."

I chuckled and smiled. "Well, thanks Lew. Whatcha think... buck for a hotdog, buck fifty for a brat, two for a burger?"

"Sounds about right," Lew said.

"Can I have a cheeseburger?" Ritchie asked.

I frowned a bit. "I didn't bring any cheese, Ritchie."

Lew perked up. "Hell, we can get some. You want a ride in a real fire truck, Ritchie?"

The red-haired boy almost bounced. "SURE!" he shouted.

"Well, come on, let's drum up some business. Doug, how about you find something they can use to make a sign for all this, alright?" Lew said and started walking to Number 3.

"Sure thing, boss." Doug said and headed back into the firehouse.

Ritchie climbed up into the old truck and shut the door. Lew piled in and hit the starter. It took a little bit for the old truck to splutter to life, but it was soon puttering with the sound of the old Ford four-cylinder engine just ticking along. With a break in the traffic, Lew pulled out and headed north towards the bigger grocery store in town. He could have stopped at the convenience-marts or the other grocery on the edge of town, but he headed for Koehring's Piggly Wiggly heading out of town to the north. But that'd also give the most exposure as that was the main north-south highway through the city so people would definitely take notice both on their way out and on their way back in. Not to mention having the old truck parked in front of the grocery store for awhile.

Doug came back with a Sanford stinky marker, a roll of duct tape, and a piece of posterboard. "Whatcha want it to say?" he asked.

I thought for a moment. "Soda - 50c, Hotdog - $1, Bratwurst - $1.50, Hamburger or Cheeseburger - $2. Mini-Pull ride (children under 12 or under 100 pounds), 50c each." How does that sound?"

Doug laughed. "Sounds like you were living in the early 1990s, but sounds good to me." He started making up the sign and then taped it to the card table. "Anything else you need?"

Julie piped up. "A seat of some sort would be nice, if you have one."

I chuckled. "Guess the lady beat me to it." I winked and Doug laughed. "One seat, coming right up!" he smiled, then turned around. "DONNY!" the head reappeared around the front of the engine, this time with a towel. "Bring a couple chairs over, will ya?"

Soon as the seats were brought out, I could see Lew puttering back from the grocery store. I checked my watch... 3 minutes to go. Lew was an old hand and perhaps even learned on old Number 3, so he pulled up, whipped across both lanes, and backed smartly into place at the near side of the nearest bay. Ritchie piled out and carried over a sack with a couple pounds worth of Kraft singles. "Mr. Symmzmuh said to give you this, Mr. Peters."

I chuckled and set them in one of the coolers with the meat. "Thanks Ritchie," I said and looked over to see Lew getting out of the truck. "LEW!" I hollered. "90 seconds!" I pointed to my watch and he got into the truck again and started it. I climbed up onto the deck where Zack had been sitting on the driver's seat. I checked my fire and saw Zack had put a couple scoops of coal in, reasonably well. "You want to do it or should I, Zack?" I asked him.

"Do what?" Zack asked. I turned on the pump and then I heard the overhead siren start cranking up. When it was at full drone, I heard Lew wind up the truck's siren so I grabbed both the loud-lever and the little whistle cord. I started opening the big whistle's valve so it was first a gurgle, then a moan, and then the full-out yell, which was soon joined by the high-pitched tone of the little mill whistle. I had to laugh out loud as I could see the windows in the bank flex a bit from the sound oscillations echoing all through downtown.

Behind me I could hear the cats getting in on the action, with Hercules' roaring out repeatedly, Xena joining in most of the time, and Jasmine doing a sort of moan-yowl. When I heard the overhead siren start winding down after about 15 seconds, I let off the whistle cords, and everybody applauded, except for the kids that still had their fingers stuck in their ears.

"Noon whistle, folks!" I shouted out. "You all might remember what that means... come and get it!"

I checked the fire and then Julie handed me up another hotdog. There were kids piling into the mini-Pull so Zack went over and started out around the block again. Julie and Doug were working the "register", with Jimmie and Ace doing their best keeping the grill hopping. I dropped down and started answering the thousand-and-one questions about the cats, about the engine, about old stuff... Lew was over by Number 3 with a couple fireman hats and was letting kids get their picture taken in the cab, or hanging onto the ladders on the side... a couple others, including Donny, got in on the act and were dressing kids up in their coats and boots.

Zack and Chet took turns on the mini-Pull running it around the block to kids' delight (and parents', too). Ritchie rode along a few times, even though he was over 12. He was on and about everything, including sticking his hands in and petting the cats, even though I'd told him not to. We all ate like we were at the fair, and everyone seemed to have a good time just like when the fair was in town. Lots of people got their picture taken standing up next to the cage wagon with the cats behind them, and with the food and all, everything just seemed to be more fun. A few kids asked and got the chance to toot the smaller mill whistle a little, which seemed to excite them a lot. After a little bit I realized that the "noisemaker" wasn't on yet, so I got out a cord, ran it from the automotive alternator I'd fixed on the Case, belted to the crank disk, and plugged it into the battery box I'd put on the trailer. I unwrapped the Wurlitzer replica, and after flipping the knife switch for it, the gaudy sounds of mechanical music filled the area around the firehouse and engines. I'd fitted up the bandorgan with a double-roll player, so that it'd operate continuously for about 80 minutes before replaying the same tunes over again. Thumping out song after song, with colored lights around its front, lighting up to a different actuator's actions. This addition was made by adding dozens of little electrical "fingers", which make contact between the brass reader bar and the light wiring each time a hole in the player roll caused a reaction in the machine. So that added to the curiosity of the rig entire, besides the music and seeing some of the actuators moving, like the ones for the bass drum, the snare drum, crash cymbal and wood block.

After running through the patriotic and German music roll, it switched over to a roll I had made of country songs that I had found interesting. So first up was "Me and Bobby McGee, the Willie Nelson version... or as close to it as a bandorgan can get. Then with the next tune I started singing along on the chorus of the old Keith Whitley song, which Lew joined in as well.

I'm no stranger to the rain I'm a friend of thunder Friend, is it any wonder lightning strikes meeeeee...

I'll put this cloud behind me, That's how the Man designed me To ride the wind and dance in hurricanes No, I'm no stranger to the rain.

I chuckled and Lew smiled at me. "I never figured I'd hear that one from something like this... you fix that up yourself?"

I dropped down to the ground and smiled. "If you're meaning the machine itself, I built it, not just fixed it. But if you're asking did I make that player roll that's sounding right now, yes, I did."

Just then "Grandfather's Clock" started belching out and the kids were watching wide-eyed at the mechanisms doing their thing, and Lew laughed. "You sure got yerself some nice toys, Jim. Though I don't envy you having to keep them all in such good condition. Nor your big kitties there. They must eat ya out of house and home!"

I shook my head. "Not really. They're cheaper than feeding kids, that's for sure, but... one of these years I might have some of those, too. Unless the government gets their knickers knotted of how I'd be raising them around the cats and "dangerous" machinery like this all."

Lew just smiled. "Yeah, seems we can't do nothin' these days without someone squawking about it."

Just then Ritchie came up to me. "Can I go with Zack again?"

I shrugged and smiled, checking my watch. "Sure... but when your parents show up, you'll probably have to go home with them."

Ritchie looked like I just told him he had to go to the dentist. "But I can go right now, right?"

I nodded. "If Zack says you can, you can. But don't ride up front if some other little kid wants to, ok?"

"Ok Mr. Peters!" Ritchie smiled and headed back over to the mini-Pull.

"Seems like a good enough boy," Lew commented.

I nodded. "He's Paul Mitchell's youngest boy... neighbor down the road a bit from my place. We'll see what his mother has to say about it all, though, since I'm sure Paul didn't mention I'd be having cats along for the ride. She's a bit... well..... more than a bit concerned, and that was when I just had Peaches out there, not the whole menagerie I have now."

"Menagerie?" Lew asked. "How many of these things ya got?"

I thought it through. "Three lions, two ligers - these bigger ones, two wolves, one tigress - Jasmine there, one cougar, and three cubs from the one lionesses."

Lew laughed. "Yeah, that IS getting to be a menagerie. So... they all friendly?"

I nodded. "More or less. These ones grew up with kids glomming all over them with the fellow I got them from. Peaches is sort of standoffish, but that's normal. The two lions are kind of wary of strangers, which is natural, and the lioness... she's something special. She has some brain damage so she's way more passive and compliant than most big cats, in a friendly way, but she still has her instincts about people and is kind of protective of her cubs now that she has a family to defend. The wolves... they just kind of showed up, so I don't really know much about them yet other than they're friendly to me, like guarding the place, and seem to have a good intuition of when to be out and growling and when to hide."

Lew laughed at that last part. "Sounds like never a dull moment with you, even without the mechanical trinkets."

I shrugged. "More mundane than fun most of the time, but that's how life goes."

Lew smiled and headed back over to the old fire engine and entertained kids some more and I started answering questions myself about the cats and the machinery, after grabbing another hotdog and a soda.