Some Observations from the Hill By HH (Hub) Brown of Owego

Last month I left us in the RR station, draped over the steam radiators and when we had warmed up some we had dried streaks across our chests and the rest of us was wet. Paul was the first to get dry and he wondered where he could get a drink of water. The station agent told him there was a fountain outside and Paul went out to get some water. He told me the town didn't have a policeman but they did have a watchman who he said would probably fix us a bed in the lock up and might even build a fire to warm us up.

Paul had already become acquainted with the old watchman who, as a younger man had hunted deer near Big Moose Lake. He built us a fire, got us warm blankets, and told us to turn out the lights when we went to bed.

Everything looked rosy in the morning except for one thing. I had 26¢ left in my pocket and we had to go right by a lunch wagon on our way to the motorcycle. In those days before the fast foods such as McDonalds and Wendys, there were little buildings which had at one time been equipped with wheels so that they could be moved about till the owners found a profitable location. Then the wheels were put away and it became a permanent building. "Can't we have a cup of coffee and a doughnut?" Paul begged, but I reminded him gas was 23¢ a gallon and we were a long way from Union.

I spent what money I had for gas and we started out. On our way up we had to take a detour in the little town of Remsen. Driving over a sidewalk and a curb, we came down hard enough to break Mitchell's beloved cutout. This was a cast-iron "Y" shaped piece with a flat door at the bottom. When opened, it would let the exhaust blow directly on the road. I had wasted some money buying some asbestos packing which I put in a shallow tin can and wired it fast. I felt sure with all the noise the motor made without the cutout on, I'd get picked up. That fix lasted almost a mile. I just had to learn to drive quietly.

When we got to Greene, I could see that I had to try getting trusted for some gas. I tried first at a large gas station. I explained that I had a week's wages waiting for me when I got back to West Endicott, but had misfigured and ran short. All I had asked for was the loan of two gallons of gas, 46¢. But he gave us a lecture instead. If boys did not have money enough to travel, they should not travel.

We went on down the street and right at the edge of town we came to a small gas station with an old man in charge. When I explained our dilemma to him he was sympathetic and said he thought he could risk that much. When he was pumping the gas, he backed up to the island the pump was on, caught his heels and would have fallen quite hard but I was behind him and saved him from a fall. He was truly grateful.

By the time we crossed Main Street in Binghamton, I must have learned to drive quietly for I had to pass right under a traffic directing officer's had and he never batted an eye. I did some serious eating when I got home, but, strange to relate, Paul and I never did become fast friends.

The next day I sent the old man the money I owed him with a little extra and many thanks.