Operation Olympus: Chapter 2 - The Lodge
Mark put the last of his tools away in the roll-up fabric holder he had sewed. Fixing the power takeoff on the old 1920 International Harvester 15-30 tractor that the lodge used had been easier than he anticipated. It was only a few years after PTOs had been introduced, and the design was still mechanically simple in the way of most first generation technologies. Still, he loved the idea of the power takeoff-- an attachment point that provided torque and rotational power for a host of different implements. It was a sort of universal power source, and he was already creating new devices in his mind to attach to the tractor.
He knew the old German was watching, but growing up on a farm in the Midwest with strict Eastern European parents left him well equipped to clean a stable. Back then they called him Marek, but out here in New York state in this new life he found it easier to introduce himself as Mark. Thinking of them, he pulled a small notebook and much sharpened pencil from his shirt pocket and noted a few items to put in his weekly letter home. Mark sent almost all his money home to them. They were only a few years away from losing their farm and moving to a smaller house near town. Jobs weren't easy to get, and Mark was grateful for the work, and for the chance to travel. He kept only a few dollars each month to buy the parts he could not scrounge for maintaining his motorcycle. Other than that, everything he owned fit in a small bag that fit easily into the front well of the sidecar.
Mark was able to earn some extra money transporting people and small loads in the motorcycle. People would pay a dime or sometimes even a quarter to get their grandmother to town quicker and in more comfort than a wagon could provide to see the doctor, or a farmer sending butchered quail to the high-end restaurants in Lake Placid, or other jobs where a small, fast load could be transported. It helped that the springs on his much modded Henderson KL-1 gave a smooth ride even on country roads-- something that both farm-fresh eggs and rheumatic senior citizens appreciated.
But Mark hadn't heard from any of the stable boys that usually brought these small jobs to him. He considered going out for drinks with the German and the Spaniard. As usual, he would try to nurse a single beer for as long as possible, and he always weighed the necessity to be friendly with the socially mandated expense of buying the group at least one round. He wondered if he could get out of going tonight.
The thought of the Spaniard brought to mind the catchy song that the soldier-of-fortune had taught him, and he began to sing in a low voice as he looked around for any final tasks that needed doing in the stables or the tack room.
"Wrap up all my care and woe / Here I go, swinging low, Bye-Bye Shanghai. Wont somebody wait for me, Please get in a state for me, Bye-bye Shanghai. Up before the colonel in the morning. He gave me a rocket and a warning: You've been out with Sun Yat Sen, You won't go out with him again! Shaghai! Bye-bye"
This message was last edited by the player at 18:12, Thu 02 Aug 2018.