40StudeDude
02-03-2006, 07:09 PM
Serial: A work appearing in parts at pre-determined intervals. More at installment.
Installment. Issued as part of a consecutively published and indefinitely continued series. Serials and installments used on major radio stations in the 1930, 1940’s and some of the 1950’s. Radio programs such as Dick Tracy (1934-1948), The Shadow (1931-1954), Amos n’ Andy, (1930-1952), Fibber McGee & Molly, (1935-1959), The Great Gildersleeve (a spin-off from Fibber McGee, 1941-1950), Buck Rogers (1932-1941) and in 1940, Superman rode the airwaves into everyone’s home three times a week in the serial until 1951. There were countless other serials on the radios back in the day…way before television ever found its way into homes. Families gathered around the radio to listen to a serial much like today’s families gather to watch a certain continuing television program…
This serial requires your intrigue, your imagination, your sound effects and your indulgence.
PART FIVE – Midwestern Weather.
The siren screamed through the black starless Midwestern night, echoed in the hills surrounding Flatfield and dissipated in the fog developing in the lower reaches of the valleys and atop ponds at the bottoms of the hills. The red lights atop the cruiser circled endlessly, illuminated signs, barns, bushes, trees and road cuts of solid rock in seconds, then gone, only to come back around whirling circles above the hurrying cruiser.
Sheriff Buckner had a bad feeling in the pit of his stomach…the radio had crackled with the dispatcher’s description of the accident…it sounded gruesome…and he wondered how many people and vehicles were involved, and if it was as bad as dispatch said, he wondered how many people have been killed. They’d also said “a multi-car pile-up”. He’d heard the Highway Patrol was on its way, but how many troopers he didn’t know…one ambulance had already been dispatched out of Red Oak, one coming out of Shenandoah and another hi-tailing it out of Creston…calls were out for more…it certainly didn’t sound like good…and he wondered why so many cars had been involved in this accident…the fog wasn’t that bad on his side of the county…but…doesn’t mean it’s like this all over western Iowa.
The tragedy of any accident can trigger other thots…and his thots of the coming drag race raced through his brain…hold on…hold on. No! Surely those boys couldn’t have pulled this off earlier than what I’d heard? They wouldn’t be that stupid, would they? Not in this fog? A ‘multi-car’ pile-up could be caused by a couple of idiots behind the wheels of a screaming hot rod coming at someone in a blinding fog…man, I hope I don’t have to pick up pieces of those youngsters tonite.
Up and down the hills as fast as his cruiser would go, near 100 mph going up, add another twenty on the down side…dangerous? Yes. He was well aware of the wildlife --animals alongside the highway…or crossing it. Deer, primarily, was his concern…hitting an 800 pound animal at speed would most likely kill both of them…but as Sheriff, he knew he owned that risk…other’s lives were depending on him getting there…as fast as he could. Now he’d wished he’d told Lew he had to remain on duty…and not given him the night off.
“Sheriff Buckner to Dispatch,” he said into the microphone.
“Come in, Brady.”
Long silence followed the first request…and the second.
Finally….
“Brady here, Sheriff.”
“Brady, where you been? Find Lew, I need him.”
“Sorry, been spending some time in the men’s room…got a little problem…but you don’t want to hear about that. Uhm, I don’t think Lew’s anywhere around Sheriff, he said something about a hot date and driving into Omaha…I’ll try to locate him, but don’t think it’s going to be possible.”
“Alright Brady, see what you can do…I was just hoping he’d decided to hang out around town…give it your best shot.”
“Yessir, anything in particular I can relay to him?”
“No, just have him get in touch with me if you find him.”
13 miles east of Flatfield, Sheriff Sam found out why the accident was so severe…the fog developing just outside his town was light, but here it was fully developed and thick…his headlights couldn’t cut thru the fog any farther ahead than 40-50 feet…not much time to react to anything. An animal -- a deer, would present a large problem to a car or even an eighteen wheeler traveling along at the speed limit, thinking his up-high vantage point would give him more time to react. The sheriff slowed the cruiser to a slow, crawling 40 mph…seemed like he could walk faster in the fog…and still way too fast for the conditions.
Mile marker 19 went by…eight more to go…times like this were when Sheriff Buckner dreaded the length of the county he was sworn to protect and patrol. When a bad accident occurred in the eastern part of Powers County, the county seat on the west side left almost too much ground to have to cover. Nice to have the Highway Patrol on this as well…maybe between the both of them they’ll be able to figure out what happened, who was at fault and hopefully, get the injured to area hospitals right away.
Topping the hill slowly, mile marker 27 drifted by…seemingly not connected to any part of earth…matter of fact, the Sheriff couldn’t tell if he was at the top of the hill…yet…headlights illuminated nothing only a few feet ahead of him and nothing seemed real…driving a cruiser thru clouds…not even connected to earth. I simply cannot believe those boys would stage a race in this pea soup…even tho it is great cover…neither one of them can see any better than I. They aren’t really that stupid are they? Guess I’ll find out in a few minutes.
There, at the edge of the hood, just above the blackness of the pavement, red lights flashing through the haze, look pink tho…and look like they are at the bottom of a hill…he approached slowly…more lights flashing now, several cruisers already here. Sheriff Sam slowed his cruiser to a baby crawl speed and eased up to a Highway Patrol cruiser already parked, idling and blocking both lanes. He took up most of the right lane, hit the flashers, grabbed his hat and flashlight and exited the car…looking for the other officers. His flashlight shined around the scene, wreckage was scattered across both lanes of traffic…one car sat in the middle of the intersection…an eighteen wheeler on its side, half of it in the water-filled ditch alongside the highway…last night’s rain. Two cars were still tangled together, one almost completely through the other car, and another nose down in the ditch on the other side of the highway. He heard moaning and shined his flashlight in that direction…an elderly man lie partially under the rear wheels of the two cars still connected. Sheriff Sam ran to his car to grab blankets…and was really glad the fog enshrouded the whole scene…what he saw with his flashlight was enough to give him nightmares, even though he’d seen many car crashes. Those that survived this crash would have a better chance of living if they couldn’t see what had happened to the other people involved, shock kills a lot of people. He covered the old man, put a blanket under his head and assured him ambulances would be here soon and told him to lie still. He stood to check out the sedan only to see the old man’s wife hanging out the passenger’s side door, gray hair covered in a mass of blood, her face almost missing. He was sure she was dead but checked anyway.
Sirens rent the thick fog and flashing lights soon came upon the scene…across the wreckage littered intersection, from the north, more flashing lights and sirens converged. The Sheriff directed the EMT’s to the nearest injured, bright lights were set up to do emergency treatment and patients were loaded into two of the three ambulances. Fortunately, it was late enough in the evening that more traffic wouldn’t be hindrance. The truck driver was unhurt, save a broken wrist and now seated in the front seat of the highway patrol cruiser, door open and feet on the pavement. His head cradled in his hands…talking softly to himself. Minor cuts had been bandaged and he rubbed his head, obviously in more pain over the accident than anything physical. The last person, a young man, was loaded onto a stretcher and complained of not feeling his foot…Sheriff Sam shined his light on his face…it wasn’t either of the young men involved in the drag race…and from the looks of the wreckage, a drag race was not the cause of this accident. He felt relieved…Flashes of light erupted throughout the fog as the troopers shot pictures of the carnage.
Two more ambulances arrived along with four tow trucks…the two cars melded together were ripped apart and loaded, and the rest of the ambulances, carrying the injured went screaming off into the night. The last ambulance drove off silently, lights not flashing, carrying the only person killed in the crash.
* * *
Doesn’t sound good does it…pea soup fog can be a major killer…especially when everyone is in a hurry…even back in 1978. At the very least, we now know it wasn’t a race…and it wasn’t Zack…or Blade…or Lew…and why would he be on this side of the county….hmmmm, think he was out with Dorree again? Wouldn’t blame him…and the Sheriff is damned lucky he didn’t hit a deer traveling that fast in that thick stuff…woulda sure made a mess out of the cruiser…and maybe him. He seems like a decent guy, doesn’t he?
But, what’s this accident got to do with a race? For right now, I don’t think it has too much to do with the race…but then again, the story hasn’t run its course yet, has it? Uhn-uhn, guess you’ll just to have to stop by the old story teller’s abode next Friday nite…and maybe you’ll find out! Forget the beer…bring a couple of jugs of wine and some paper cups with you.
C Yaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa!
Copyright 12-05 RAJetter/Aden Rush
“Bangin’ Gears & Bustin’ Heads”…the book, by R.A. Jetter describes a 16 year-old’s life in the late fifties up to the mid 1960’s…and what it was like to get into illegal drag races and fist-fights…it’s a series of 26 episodes, with each episode described in how and why, between each story. Vintage B & W photos are included-- a total of 208 pages.
High speed car stories set in the 1960’s.
Wanna know how it really went down back then? Wanna know what new ‘61 409’s, ’62 406 Fords ran like off the showroom floor? Wanna read about drag races, sock hops, real cruising and Premium gasoline? Wanna know how most of us spent our weekends back then? Wanna ride along with a lunatic?
If you do…this book will, at least, educate you to how it really was in the Midwest!
A personal, autographed copy is available at www.RAJetter.com (http://www.rajetter.com/) …or send check/ M.O. for $20.95 to: P.O. Box 440042, Aurora, CO80044.
Installment. Issued as part of a consecutively published and indefinitely continued series. Serials and installments used on major radio stations in the 1930, 1940’s and some of the 1950’s. Radio programs such as Dick Tracy (1934-1948), The Shadow (1931-1954), Amos n’ Andy, (1930-1952), Fibber McGee & Molly, (1935-1959), The Great Gildersleeve (a spin-off from Fibber McGee, 1941-1950), Buck Rogers (1932-1941) and in 1940, Superman rode the airwaves into everyone’s home three times a week in the serial until 1951. There were countless other serials on the radios back in the day…way before television ever found its way into homes. Families gathered around the radio to listen to a serial much like today’s families gather to watch a certain continuing television program…
This serial requires your intrigue, your imagination, your sound effects and your indulgence.
PART FIVE – Midwestern Weather.
The siren screamed through the black starless Midwestern night, echoed in the hills surrounding Flatfield and dissipated in the fog developing in the lower reaches of the valleys and atop ponds at the bottoms of the hills. The red lights atop the cruiser circled endlessly, illuminated signs, barns, bushes, trees and road cuts of solid rock in seconds, then gone, only to come back around whirling circles above the hurrying cruiser.
Sheriff Buckner had a bad feeling in the pit of his stomach…the radio had crackled with the dispatcher’s description of the accident…it sounded gruesome…and he wondered how many people and vehicles were involved, and if it was as bad as dispatch said, he wondered how many people have been killed. They’d also said “a multi-car pile-up”. He’d heard the Highway Patrol was on its way, but how many troopers he didn’t know…one ambulance had already been dispatched out of Red Oak, one coming out of Shenandoah and another hi-tailing it out of Creston…calls were out for more…it certainly didn’t sound like good…and he wondered why so many cars had been involved in this accident…the fog wasn’t that bad on his side of the county…but…doesn’t mean it’s like this all over western Iowa.
The tragedy of any accident can trigger other thots…and his thots of the coming drag race raced through his brain…hold on…hold on. No! Surely those boys couldn’t have pulled this off earlier than what I’d heard? They wouldn’t be that stupid, would they? Not in this fog? A ‘multi-car’ pile-up could be caused by a couple of idiots behind the wheels of a screaming hot rod coming at someone in a blinding fog…man, I hope I don’t have to pick up pieces of those youngsters tonite.
Up and down the hills as fast as his cruiser would go, near 100 mph going up, add another twenty on the down side…dangerous? Yes. He was well aware of the wildlife --animals alongside the highway…or crossing it. Deer, primarily, was his concern…hitting an 800 pound animal at speed would most likely kill both of them…but as Sheriff, he knew he owned that risk…other’s lives were depending on him getting there…as fast as he could. Now he’d wished he’d told Lew he had to remain on duty…and not given him the night off.
“Sheriff Buckner to Dispatch,” he said into the microphone.
“Come in, Brady.”
Long silence followed the first request…and the second.
Finally….
“Brady here, Sheriff.”
“Brady, where you been? Find Lew, I need him.”
“Sorry, been spending some time in the men’s room…got a little problem…but you don’t want to hear about that. Uhm, I don’t think Lew’s anywhere around Sheriff, he said something about a hot date and driving into Omaha…I’ll try to locate him, but don’t think it’s going to be possible.”
“Alright Brady, see what you can do…I was just hoping he’d decided to hang out around town…give it your best shot.”
“Yessir, anything in particular I can relay to him?”
“No, just have him get in touch with me if you find him.”
13 miles east of Flatfield, Sheriff Sam found out why the accident was so severe…the fog developing just outside his town was light, but here it was fully developed and thick…his headlights couldn’t cut thru the fog any farther ahead than 40-50 feet…not much time to react to anything. An animal -- a deer, would present a large problem to a car or even an eighteen wheeler traveling along at the speed limit, thinking his up-high vantage point would give him more time to react. The sheriff slowed the cruiser to a slow, crawling 40 mph…seemed like he could walk faster in the fog…and still way too fast for the conditions.
Mile marker 19 went by…eight more to go…times like this were when Sheriff Buckner dreaded the length of the county he was sworn to protect and patrol. When a bad accident occurred in the eastern part of Powers County, the county seat on the west side left almost too much ground to have to cover. Nice to have the Highway Patrol on this as well…maybe between the both of them they’ll be able to figure out what happened, who was at fault and hopefully, get the injured to area hospitals right away.
Topping the hill slowly, mile marker 27 drifted by…seemingly not connected to any part of earth…matter of fact, the Sheriff couldn’t tell if he was at the top of the hill…yet…headlights illuminated nothing only a few feet ahead of him and nothing seemed real…driving a cruiser thru clouds…not even connected to earth. I simply cannot believe those boys would stage a race in this pea soup…even tho it is great cover…neither one of them can see any better than I. They aren’t really that stupid are they? Guess I’ll find out in a few minutes.
There, at the edge of the hood, just above the blackness of the pavement, red lights flashing through the haze, look pink tho…and look like they are at the bottom of a hill…he approached slowly…more lights flashing now, several cruisers already here. Sheriff Sam slowed his cruiser to a baby crawl speed and eased up to a Highway Patrol cruiser already parked, idling and blocking both lanes. He took up most of the right lane, hit the flashers, grabbed his hat and flashlight and exited the car…looking for the other officers. His flashlight shined around the scene, wreckage was scattered across both lanes of traffic…one car sat in the middle of the intersection…an eighteen wheeler on its side, half of it in the water-filled ditch alongside the highway…last night’s rain. Two cars were still tangled together, one almost completely through the other car, and another nose down in the ditch on the other side of the highway. He heard moaning and shined his flashlight in that direction…an elderly man lie partially under the rear wheels of the two cars still connected. Sheriff Sam ran to his car to grab blankets…and was really glad the fog enshrouded the whole scene…what he saw with his flashlight was enough to give him nightmares, even though he’d seen many car crashes. Those that survived this crash would have a better chance of living if they couldn’t see what had happened to the other people involved, shock kills a lot of people. He covered the old man, put a blanket under his head and assured him ambulances would be here soon and told him to lie still. He stood to check out the sedan only to see the old man’s wife hanging out the passenger’s side door, gray hair covered in a mass of blood, her face almost missing. He was sure she was dead but checked anyway.
Sirens rent the thick fog and flashing lights soon came upon the scene…across the wreckage littered intersection, from the north, more flashing lights and sirens converged. The Sheriff directed the EMT’s to the nearest injured, bright lights were set up to do emergency treatment and patients were loaded into two of the three ambulances. Fortunately, it was late enough in the evening that more traffic wouldn’t be hindrance. The truck driver was unhurt, save a broken wrist and now seated in the front seat of the highway patrol cruiser, door open and feet on the pavement. His head cradled in his hands…talking softly to himself. Minor cuts had been bandaged and he rubbed his head, obviously in more pain over the accident than anything physical. The last person, a young man, was loaded onto a stretcher and complained of not feeling his foot…Sheriff Sam shined his light on his face…it wasn’t either of the young men involved in the drag race…and from the looks of the wreckage, a drag race was not the cause of this accident. He felt relieved…Flashes of light erupted throughout the fog as the troopers shot pictures of the carnage.
Two more ambulances arrived along with four tow trucks…the two cars melded together were ripped apart and loaded, and the rest of the ambulances, carrying the injured went screaming off into the night. The last ambulance drove off silently, lights not flashing, carrying the only person killed in the crash.
* * *
Doesn’t sound good does it…pea soup fog can be a major killer…especially when everyone is in a hurry…even back in 1978. At the very least, we now know it wasn’t a race…and it wasn’t Zack…or Blade…or Lew…and why would he be on this side of the county….hmmmm, think he was out with Dorree again? Wouldn’t blame him…and the Sheriff is damned lucky he didn’t hit a deer traveling that fast in that thick stuff…woulda sure made a mess out of the cruiser…and maybe him. He seems like a decent guy, doesn’t he?
But, what’s this accident got to do with a race? For right now, I don’t think it has too much to do with the race…but then again, the story hasn’t run its course yet, has it? Uhn-uhn, guess you’ll just to have to stop by the old story teller’s abode next Friday nite…and maybe you’ll find out! Forget the beer…bring a couple of jugs of wine and some paper cups with you.
C Yaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa!
Copyright 12-05 RAJetter/Aden Rush
“Bangin’ Gears & Bustin’ Heads”…the book, by R.A. Jetter describes a 16 year-old’s life in the late fifties up to the mid 1960’s…and what it was like to get into illegal drag races and fist-fights…it’s a series of 26 episodes, with each episode described in how and why, between each story. Vintage B & W photos are included-- a total of 208 pages.
High speed car stories set in the 1960’s.
Wanna know how it really went down back then? Wanna know what new ‘61 409’s, ’62 406 Fords ran like off the showroom floor? Wanna read about drag races, sock hops, real cruising and Premium gasoline? Wanna know how most of us spent our weekends back then? Wanna ride along with a lunatic?
If you do…this book will, at least, educate you to how it really was in the Midwest!
A personal, autographed copy is available at www.RAJetter.com (http://www.rajetter.com/) …or send check/ M.O. for $20.95 to: P.O. Box 440042, Aurora, CO80044.