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ask-de-writer · 5 years ago

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LOST TIME (part 2 of 3) A fantasy of Flocking Bay.

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LOST TIME

De Writer (Glen Ten-Eyck)

5556 words

written 2003 by Glen Ten-Eyck

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Morton Hewitt did not last. He bought the house for back taxes in 1944. He lived there for a week. He painted the hardwood floors and then hanged himself in the garage the next day.

Byron Thomas bought the house from Hewitt’s estate. He was a grave digger for Trinity Graveyard. He updated the plumbing and lived there quietly for several years. Apparently he liked his work a little too well. He buried two people who were not yet dead. One of them lived. He was adjudged sane at his trial and hanged for his crime.

Mark Altman bought the house next. He was a reclusive sort and lived there for a quite a number of years before it was discovered that he’d had some visitors who had never left. He died in prison while awaiting trial. There was an interesting hand written note attached to the autopsy report which stated that the coroner had ruled out both suicide and homicide but refused to pronounce the death natural.

Dora Greene got the place next. She was Mark’s sister. Like Mark, she lived there quietly for years. One day she walked into town and set fire to the school, killing five and maiming six more. She spent her last years in a lunatic asylum, setting three more fires and killing two more people. She herself died in her last fire.

While she was in the asylum, one Tony Fisk, age twelve, urged on by several other urchins, had thrown some stones at the windows of the Vekin place. He had missed. Becoming angry, he took careful aim and they all watched the flight of the stone. In the young malefactor’s words, “It went away without falling.”

It would not have been worthy of a news story, except for the fact that each of the children who had watched the stone had gone severely and permanently cross-eyed. In a small town like Flocking Bay, that many kids going cross-eyed at once could not be hidden.

George Abbot bought the house and rented it at a very low price to a Michael Farley. The two had been feuding, down-state, and the house was supposed to have been a peace offering. Farley stayed only a few weeks. He went out and dynamited Abbot’s automobile. Farley was quite mad and lived out his life in an asylum for the criminally insane. The county coroner ruled Abbot’s death to be suicide. After all, he had known the history of the house and had knowingly rented that house to an enemy.

Cornelius Baker took the house next. He upgraded the kitchen and installed modern wiring. He lived there quietly and apparently got on well for about five years. He was a long-haul truck driver. Bodies followed him about the country. Finally, he was caught with one in his truck. He drove his truck into a bridge abutment at over ninety miles per hour rather than be taken alive.

Now, I had the place. I mentally withdrew my blessing. He had not been a good man at all.

Lois saw that I was finished with the file and making good inroads on my sandwich. She asked, “Did you sleep there, last night?”

“Yes, I did. Most restful sleep I have had in years.”

“What is your full name?”

“Vandervekken,” I replied, getting out my driver’s license. I was used to this. “No first name or middle initial. Just Vandervekken.”

“How old are you?”

“I don’t know, at least seventy.”

“You don’t know how old you are? Seventy? You look like you’re in your early twenties,” she said incredulously. “I told you that things connected with the Vekin place get interesting.”

“I got a head-wound during the war. Traumatic amnesia.”

“Viet Nam wasn’t that long ago. It would only make you in your fifties.”

“Not Viet Nam, Lois. WW II. Apparently, I was helping the French Underground.” I handed her the military fingerprint record. Her eyes widened as she realized that I was serious. “The amnesia’s been permanent, so far. I have language skills . . . too many. I’m a fluent, accentless polyglot. I even speak Basque. I know how to do an amazing number of things . . . no trace of name or personal past. No ID either.”

“Couldn’t they trace you by these fingerprints or something?”

“They tried. I was found among the bodies of a wiped-out unit of the French Underground during the German withdrawal from Paris in 1944. Someone from another unit was able to say that I was an American volunteer with a name that he could neither remember nor pronounce ... something sort of Dutch. That inspired my current name. I got back with a temporary ID and that military fingerprint record, which I still carry.”

“That’s sad, and eerie, too. What’s it feel like?”

“I’ve thought about that a lot. I think the best way to describe it is like a house that’s furnished but nobody is home. Empty. Alone.”

“So, how does that relate to your choice of name? You must know what having only one name does to our systems for indexing things and people.”

“True. I want to stand out, in case somebody recognizes who I am. As for Vandervekken, he was the Flying Dutchman, who swore that he would take his ship around the Cape of Good Hope, against a gale, if it took until Judgment Day. That was in the Seventeenth Century and he is still sailing. His ghost is seen as a Dutch East India Co. galleon with all sails set, sailing into the teeth of a gale. He can’t get home either.”

“I see,” Lois said, adding to her notes. “What brought you to Flocking Bay?”

“I was just passing through. I like small towns, so I avoid the main highways and big cities whenever I can. I liked the atmosphere of Flocking Bay enough to inquire about the possibility of settling here.”

“Look, we both know that small towns are dying. You could have had your pick from any of a dozen houses. Why the Vekin place?”

“I was shown fourteen places, actually. I know that it seems a bit forbidding at first, but it felt good. Like a warm glove on a cool morning. Have you ever actually been there?”

She shuddered, “No, and before you, I have never heard of anyone who said that the Vekin place felt good ... You say that you are a writer. What have you written?”

“Charles said it very well, ’Pseudonyms are great for privacy.’ My own writing aside, I do translations but you won’t find my name on most of them. Archaeologists like to take credit for their finds. I mentioned that I’m a polyglot? I sight read ancient languages as well as modern.”

I extended my hand to Lois and invited, “Would you like to come and see for yourself this house of dark history? I promise that you will find it worth your while. In all of those stories, not once was the interior of Vekin House described. Do come.”

“I have to return the file and get my camera,” she responded gamely.

“I shall await you in my auto, in front of the Voice,” I answered. As I walked her back across the street, I had the pleasure of seeing her stare at Lilitu.

“If that’s what I think its, I’ll ride with you anywhere!” she called over her shoulder as she entered the Voice’s office. True to her word, she emerged in a few minutes with a camera. Not one of those tiny little cameras that have become fashionable, but a business-like press camera. I opened the car door and gave her a hand up.

As I got into the driver’s seat, she asked, wonder in her voice, “Is this really a Packard V-12 Touring Car?”

We pulled away with the almost uncannily quiet, vibration-free ride that the car was famous for. I replied, “You bet she is. Lois, meet Lilitu. Lilitu, meet Lois. After the war, there were still quite a few of them to be had, and I liked both the ride and the durability, so I hunted one down and had it fixed up like new. I’ve kept her that way ever since. She’s only had two owners in over two-million miles. The first owner only put on about sixty-thousand of them.”

“You drive a lot,” she stated.

“I was looking for something ... I think that Flocking Bay has it. My turn for a few questions , if you don’t mind.”

“Fire away. If I don’t like the question, I won’t answer it.”

“What did you do before you took up the Voice?”

“The same thing that I still do. The stock and futures markets. I’m good at it. I got out of college with a degree in the sociology of medieval witchcraft. I got a job as a waitress on the strength of my looks. I put my first fifty dollars in tips into a risky stock that kited way up. On a hunch, I dumped it three days after I bought it. It nosedived shortly after I sold out. After commissions, I had three hundred and fifty dollars. I rolled it over the same way. The rest is history. So far, my hunches have always worked for me.”

“What brought you to Flocking Bay?”

“Like you, I was passing through. I was on my way to Lakeside Resort about three years ago. I got a hunch that I should stay, so I did. The Voice was failing. When a small town loses its paper, the end is in sight. I didn’t want the end to come, so I bought the paper. Here I am.”

“And here we are,” I said with a flourish as I pulled up in front of the house. We both stared. The yard was neatly trimmed, though the bushes and trees still retained a slightly forbidding aspect. Going up the path to the front door, I noticed that the flagstones had been leveled, the weeds removed and the joints and refilled with fresh sand. The iron fence and balustrades had been cleaned of rust.

“You’ve been busy,” was Lois’s comment.

“That’s just it,” I replied, puzzled. “I didn’t do it. I thought that stocking the fridge and setting out a snack last night was something that the real-estate agent arranged. Sort of a welcome wagon. This is beyond the call of duty.” Opening the front door, I felt that comfortable, welcoming feeling that had caused me to buy the house in the first place. Impulsively, I said, “Hello, house, you certainly look nice today.”

Lois looked at me quizzically and asked, “Do you talk to everything, or is this special?”

I thought for a moment before answering, “Actually I only talk to things that have personality enough to warrant a name, like Lilitu, my car, or Drachen, my typewriter.”

“Typewriter? You do like antiques, don't you? What are you going to call the house, then?”

“I’m not sure,” I answered. “Something good ... What does the place feel like to you?”

“The place actually looks and feels . . . well . . .” Lois groped for the right word, “I’d have to say . . . happy. Not what I expected, at all. It feels like what you see when a pup that loves its master is greeting him. No wonder you slept well, if it feels as good to you as it does to me . . .” She sort of trailed off. “I wouldn’t normally say this, but I’m getting a hunch about this place . . .” she trailed off again.

“I guess that the house was just waiting for the right kind of person,” I responded. “It was pretty rough on everyone else. I’m glad that you like it too.”

“Look at these floors,” she mused, “They were beautiful before Hewitt painted them over. You can still make out some traces of the parquetry patterns. If he hadn’t already hanged himself, I’d help you to do it.”

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#LOST TIME #Part 2 of 3 #Flocking Bay #Written by De Writer

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1whimsicalgal · 4 years ago

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“The King of Hollywood,”

Clark Gable was a passionate motorhead who in the 1930s occupied the same position in California socialite automotive circles that Steve McQueen would hold three decades later. Like McQueen, Gable owned the best that money could buy and also enjoyed working on the cars himself. His preference before the war was clearly for the top-of-the-line offerings by Packard, with the occasional distractions by Duesenberg.Vehicle number 579-64 was the 54th Twin Six coupe roadster built during 1932’s Ninth Series, the first year of the second-generation Packard V-12, and may well have been the last example of this body style made. Originally dispatched to Los Angeles, it was sold new on November 14, 1932, by the famous distributor there, Earle C. Anthony, Inc., long the largest-volume dealer of new Packards in the world, with Mr. Gable believed to be the original owner.Gable was photographed in the early 1930s with his Twin Six Coupe Roadster, which had been accessorized with wheel discs, Pilot-Ray driving lights (made in Los Angeles), and a rear-mounted trunk, all of which are present in the famous publicity photograph. It is believed that Gable sold the car in 1934 to make way for a new 1106 Twelve Runabout Speedster, which would receive similar Bohman & Schwartz touches.

PROVENANCE - That this Twin Six coupe roadster was Clark Gable’s is strongly backed both by the opinions of Packard historians and by first-hand recollections. Among these was Major Conrad Clough, a Leslie contemporary and fellow Packard collector in Oklahoma City, who had earlier resided in Santa Monica in the 1930s. Major Clough recalled to Mr. Leslie that he had known Clark Gable, that he recalled seeing this car at Earle C. Anthony’s when it was in for service, and that it was painted a very dark Packard Blue, the same color found on the car when it was stripped by Mr. Wohlwend at the beginning of restoration.”

https://rmsothebys.com/en/auctions/am16/amelia-island/lots/r174-1932-packard-twin-six-coupe-roadster/175367?fbclid=IwAR2Or16OsosbJBXXadpmobIcYMr15MtSBwJjvcJTmbQ1oK8w4ZzrI1uhTrs#:~:text=Leslie%20that%20he%20had%20known,at%20the%20beginning%20of%20restoration

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jesusvasser · 6 years ago

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Seven American Favorites from the 2018 Greenwich Concours d’Elegance

The Greenwich Concours d’Elegance, held right in the heart of Greenwich, Connecticut, is largest event of its kind in the Northeast. And the 2018 edition took place this past weekend, continuing its usual theme of featuring some of the greatest examples of American automotive history for day one, while day two showcases foreign automobiles. Here are seven of our favorites from this year’s show.

1934 Packard Twelve 1108 Convertible Victoria by Dietrich

What’s a concours d’elegance without its fair share of Packards. The Packard Twelve first surfaced as the “Twin Six” in 1932, joining the lineup with Packard’s top-seller, the Eight five-seat sedan. The Twelve could be had in a variety of bodystyles, depending on the coachbuilder and customer demands. This specific 1934 Packard Twelve 1108 Convertible Victoria was built by Dietrich and took “Best-In-Show” at the 2013 Pebble Beach Concours d’Elegance, later selling that year for a jaw-dropping $5.17 million. Power comes from a 160-horsepower 445-cu-in V-12 and this car is said to be one of four or five Packard Twelve 1108 to be fitted with the “Convertible Victoria” body.

1935 Auburn 851 Supercharged Cabriolet

Auburn Automobile Company, one of America’s oldest automakers, morphed out of the Eckhart Carriage Company in 1874. This minty 851 Supercharged Cabriolet was one of its later models—one that, in hindsight, signaled the end of the company in the form of bankruptcy. But the 851 is also one of the company’s icons and sadly, last great hurrahs. When most people think of the 851, the significantly more iconic “Boattail Speedster,” also known as just the “Auburn Speedster” first comes to mind for its slickly styled rear end design, penned by Gordon Buehrig, who also designed the Cord 810 and 812. This 851 Cabriolet however is the lesser-known sibling, taking on a more traditional slope-back rear-end. But it still came with the Speedster’s supercharged flathead 4.6-liter straight-eight with 150 horsepower and a three-speed manual. One of these crossed RMSotheby’s auction block at Hershey Park for a relatively modest $220,000 in 2014.

1935 Cadillac V-16 Series 452D Imperial Convertible Sedan by Fleetwood

This monstrous Cadillac definitely hits the list as one of our favorites from Greenwich. This Imperial Convertible Sedan “Series 452D” model is much more unique, featuring a coachbuilt body by Fleetwood. With its famous 7.4-liter, 452 cu in V-16 engine, this Caddy is pure automotive aristocracy and gluttony from the time marque could truly stand by its “Standard of the World” slogan. At 154-inches, its wheelbase remains the longest ever used on a Cadillac. Back when this later, Art Deco-styled Sixteen sold, its average price hovered just above $8,000 in 1934. In today’s cash, that’s close to $160,000. A similar example crossed RMSotheby’s in 2014 for a cool $605,000.

1956 Plymouth Belvedere Fury

Technically speaking, the Plymouth Fury didn’t become a standalone model until 1958. In 1956, the Fury was a sub-series to the Belvedere sedan. Even before it reached production, the 1956 Plymouth Belvedere Fury quickly made a name for itself while running a high-speed test run on the sands of Daytona Beach, Florida on the same day that it was revealed in Chicago. It immediately made headlines for its flying mile at 124 mph, unheard of speed and performance for a primarily stock passenger vehicle. It weighs around 3,650 pounds and is powered by a 303 cu in V-8. When Motor Trend tested the car, it put down a 0-60 time of 9.5 seconds and ran the quarter mile in 16.9 seconds—also impressive numbers for a humdrum sedan from this era.

1967 Pontiac “Fitch” Firebird

This is one of a few Firebird prototypes, commissioned by the one and only John DeLorean, who was running Pontiac at the time. It was built by John Firth, a sports car driver, inventor, and P51 Mustang pilot. Fitch is also known for working with Briggs Cunningham’s Le Mans racers in the early 1950s, which happened to be the leading tribute theme for this year’s Greenwich show. He also invented the yellow bin—those sand-filled crash safety barriers that are frequently seen on highway off-ramps. As the story goes with these “Fitch” Firebirds—and it’s a bit of a cloudy one—Fitch built only between six and eight prototypes. Examples either had a base overhead-cam (OHV) 250 cu in straight-six from the Pontiac Sprint, or the top-dog 400 cu in (6.6-liter) V8. Featuring special “flying buttress” panels mounted on top of the rear-three quarter panels, a trademark from Fitch’s work modifying Chevy Corvairs, they were thought to improve aerodynamics at high speed, and the project was meant to pitch the idea of a high-performance packaged Firebird. The project however never reached production and finding one these “Fitch” Firebirds, especially in Concours condition, is a true and genuine treat.

1969 Oldsmobile 442 H/O

The Oldsmobile 442 was the marque’s muscle car performance icon and a sub-series to the original Cutlass models, proving to the world that the company made plenty more than just your old man’s Ninety Eight. 1969 continued “Hurst/Olds” combination, where Oldsmobile partnered up with Hurst Performance Research Corporation, to create special editions while featuring unique Hurst shifters for the manual transmissions. The “4-4-2” designation comes from the company’s use of a four-barrel carburetor for its massive V-8, a four-speed manual transmission, and dual exhausts. By 1969, the Oldsmobile 442 was in its second year of its second generation. This specific 442, with its significantly pronounced ram air hood scoops, signifies the “high-output” or “H/O” model, which received a 455 cu in “Rocket 455” 7.5-liter V-8 with up to 400 horsepower and a 0-60 time of just 5.9 seconds.

1970 Dodge Challenger T/A “340 Six Pack”

In 1970 the Sports Car Club of America required Dodge to sell production versions of its Trans American Sedan Championship entry and thus the company responded with its homologation special, the 1970 Dodge Challenger T/A “340 Six Pack.” The race version it featured a destroked 305-cu-in version of Chrysler’s LA V-8, but the road-going Challenger T/A retained the 340 cu in displacement. It also received internal engine reinforcements and a bespoke three two-barrel carburetor setup that gave it the “Six Pack” nickname. Chrysler rated the engine from the factory at 290 horsepower but dyno tests later found the engine produced closer to 350 horsepower. It also featured special heavy duty Rallye suspension upgrades, essentially putting it as Mopar’s answer to the contemporary Chevrolet Camaro Z/28 and Ford Boss 302 Mustang.

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frenchcurious · 2 years ago

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