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Show Car Baseball Butch and Fenn Stories 64 tear my garage down and burn it day by day, I hope somebody puts me away." "What about chasing kids with your car, trying to run them down?" "Yeah," Fenn turns to me at last. "Well, that part might not be too bad! Remember that time after school by the river?" Fenn gathers his sleeping bag up from where he's dragged it on the ground and leads me into the back yard where he throws it against the fence. I like that about him: he may be nearsighted but he still acts like king of the gypsies. He sits down and opens his statistics notebook. "Look at this," he says. He's made a three color crayon chart of all of his hitters in Wall Ball. I sit down with him to go over his batting averages and wait for Butch. 8 The closest Mr. Wilkes ever came to running Parley down was last spring by the river. It was right after Mr. Wilkes had retired, I think, because for the first time we used to see a lot of him around during the day. The first time I ever saw him, I couldn't believe he was Carol's father; he was more the grandfather age, the oldest parent anybody knew of. Fenn's mother is the youngest. She is younger than Miss Vincent who had taught us fifth grade. Anyway, one day after school, Mr. Wilkes came prowling around in that old Plymouth. It slid |