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Show Fair Forever 136 "It's okay . . . for a jail." He. points down the hill where a tall fence surrounds the property at the end of an expansive lawn. "Problem is, this place is full of old people." I try not to laugh. He reaches in his back pocket and brings out an envelope. "Did you bring the money?" I can feel my ears turning pink as I reach in my pocket. "It's only forty dollars," I say, offering the folded bills. "I can pay more every week." The old guy takes the money and shoves it in his pocket, saying, "Forty is enough." He hands over the envelope containing some papers and a key. "Take good care of her. I told my daughter you'd be coming. Her house is the red brick ranch on Shoreline Drive: Hard to miss. It's the only house for miles that looks like it should be sitting in a Chicago suburb . . . nothing like a Shepard's Bay house." I know the house. I'd seen it every day from my skiff "Is your boat hard to start?" I ask. "Anything special I need to do." "Give her full choke on a cold day, half on a cool, and none on a warm. First start only. After that, she'll start up fine with one or two pulls. If you smell gas, you've choked her too rnuch. Might as well wait an hour. She won't start for anything after that." I make mental notes, consider his instructions. "Is today cool or warm?" I ask, trying to decide. He lifts his head, sniffing the air "About in the middle. You'll need to figure out what she wants." |
