Remember the time Piccolo and Renny ran that guy out of town by dropping bowling balls on him from Renny's airplane?
Renny had died in a mid-air crash the previous roe herring season. He's still missed.
Jim Juth, who owned the bowling alley chimed in. "I remember selling him those bowling balls," he said. "I almost didn't because I was terrified what he'd do with them but I caved in because I was dying to find out. I have NEVER had such mixed feelings about seling something in my life! I was cringing at the thought of turning Pic loose with them but I was dying inside to find out what he'd with them so I sold them against my better judgement."
When Jim was selling a bunch of beat up bowling balls for a buck apiece I took one look at fifteen of them and said I'd take them.
It was one of those things. I had to have them even though I had absolutely no idea what I was going to do with them. It's kind of like quarter pound blocks of TNT. Even today as an old man if someone offered me a bunch of TNT I would snap it up even though I have no idea what I'd do with it. I'd think of something, though.
It's not likely to happen, though. Anyone that knows me would refuse to sell it to me and anyone that didn't know me would think I might be a fed and they wouldn't sell it to me, either.
Anyway, about a week later John Lewis, a physical monster that had crossed me wandered into Tony's Bar looking for me and said he was going to beat me senseless. He said I had rolled a bowling ball down the hill and he had driven over it and knocked the muffler of his new-to-him pickup.
Three guys sitting at the bar told him that Piccolo had been with them the previous night out at the Road's End drinking and we'd camped and got back to town at about 0900 this morning.
John Lewis walked out trying to figure out who the hell had rolled a bowling ball down the hill at 0230 when he was headed home mildly drunk.
When I walked into the bar a few minutes later the three of them started laughing like hell and they each handed me $20 that they had bet that I'd miss John's pickup.
They didn't like John Lewis, either.
Anyway there was some pimpy little thug that had recently arrived from Los Angeles. He was throwing his LA toughness around and was very long overdue for a serious beatdown. He thought he had moved to Hooterville and we were all a bunch of hicks. We later discovered he had some kind of gang/mob/whatever connections and had been sent to Kodiak to wholesale cocaine which was exceedingly popular at the time. It sold for $150/gram back then.
He wandered into Tony's and pushed me out of his way. I instinctively decidd that if I shoved him back he'd pull out a knife or a gun and I figured he wasn't worth it. I sat down next to Renny and listened as the little thug ran his mouth about something LA/gang/whatever related.
Renny and I looked at each other and nodded. In any language that translates to :"We'll fix THIS guy!"
We sat there in our thoughts. Finally Renny turned to me. "How many of those bowling balls do you have?"
"Why?" I answered. "Your airplane gassed up"
Renny's jaw dropped. "I can't bombard the little bastard, I'd lose my license!!"
"Nonsense," I replied. "The FAA has to catch you before you get into any trouble."
He thought a few minutes. "Hmm...You got a point. It ain't illegal if ya don't get caught! What did you have in mind?"
Neither of us had opened a beer yet and Renny said, "Come with me."
Ten minutes later we were at the airport warming up Renny's Cub. Ten minutes after that we were in the air on a reconnasaince mission. Reconnissance is the forst step to a successful mission.
We took off, flew low over the lake, crossed over town barely clearing the buildings until we got to the channel and followed it out just barely over the wavetops. We were literally flying under the radar and after a while flew over the reported campsite of that nasty little thug. We both chatted over the intercom and after a brief flight retraced our path and returned to Municipal. We were met.
Harlon was a Vietnam vet, a reconnissance sergeant of some sort with a couple of tours under his belt. Little got past him. As we were tying the Cub down he wandered up.
"That was an under the radar recon flight if ever there was one," he said. "What are you two screwballs up to?"
We looked at him.
"Well, out with it. You're going to need a ground crew to cool your engine down so it doesn't look like you've moved the damned airplane." he said.
Renny and I looked at each other. I broke the silence. "You know that pimpy little coke dealer that moved into town?"
"Say no more. I'm in," said Harlon. "Stick around."
Two minutes later he showed back up unrolling a long extension cord. He told Renny to grab the shop fan and we parked it next to the plane and covered it with a tarp. Harlon plugged the cord in and we all headed off to attend to other business. I went to an odd job for someone, fixing a leaky sink if I recall.
The next day was too windy and the day after that I was scheduled to do something. I remember advancing it a day so I had it done and over with and was free the next day.
The following day was perfect and there was a high cloud ceiling which actually made things ideal.
I got in the back seat and Renny handed me three bowling balls. Harlon apppeared out of nowhere, saw what Renny was doing and stood there agape for a second but that turned quickly into a huge smile. Renny hopped in and buckled in. We warmed up the engine, went through the preflight run-up and off we went.
We took off and started following the previous flight path we had flown.
Now the plan was to buzz his camper until he came out to see what was going on and then make a long, slow pass over the camper and drop a bowling ball through the roof. We were not trying to kill him. I had two spares in case I missed.
Now the story got retold and the number of bowling balls I carried with me went up one bowling ball per telling but there is no way I could have crammed 127 bowling balls in such a small space as the back seat of the Cub. Three was enough!
Of course the best plans go straight to hell when one begins to execute it. We spotted the nasty little thug walking on the beach and roared past him less than 20 feet off the deck. He hit the deck in a panic as we went by him. I keyed the intercom. "Head for the camper," I said. Renny nodded and at the same time throttled back.
Those little planes cruise at about 75 mph and the stall speed is about 45. Renny was very good at slow flying and the previous spring I had been Renny's 'bombardier' when we were in an informal contest with a couple of guys dropping flour bombs at a target on the ground. Bush pilots are generally pretty good at dropping things to people.
Renny opened the top part of the hatch and stuck it to the bottom of the wing. "Bombay doors open," He said. "It's NOT your airplane! I got this one."
That was a reference to our flour dropping contest of the previous spring. With dual controls I'd actually fly the plane for a few seconds during the 'bombing' run. We were slow flying and with no real altitude we couldn't afford mistakes.
Renny flew toward the target slow, flat and just sllightly off center to compensate for the bowling ball being dropped from the starboard side. When we got near the camper he rolled the bird slightly to starboard.
At the last minute I realzed that the bowling ball would not follow the same trajectory as a flour bag so I held back a nanosecond and just before we crossed the camper I flipped it out. "Bombs away!" I said into the intercom. "Did you ever see North by Northwest?"
"I was thinking the same thing," replied Renny as we made a slow sweeeping turn to access the damage. "Let's torment the little bastard!"
Now I'm telling this story so it was a perfect center hit but actually it wasn't. It was a couple of feet off center but there was clearly a huge hole in the roof. Actually it didn't take much. Campers and RVs are flimsy. It's very thin aluminum, about an inch of fiberglass insulation and cheap paneling. We knew the bowling ball had destroyed the camper beyond repair.
The little thug was about 200 yards from the camper. He'd been walking on the beach and we buzzed him from about ten feet off the deck. He hit the dirt at the last minute.
I also tossed one of the other bowling balls out as we were over him, knowing the trajectory ould carry it past him. I knew he'd see it and think we were trying to hit him.
We buzzed him again and the last of the bowling balls was jettisoned. The little thug had hit the dirt again in a panic. I imagine he thought we were trying to grind him up with the propeller.
We made a couple more passes and chased him across the beach. He was terrified and we could plainly see it.
We flew back to the barn skimming the wavetops, flew around the town over the water and quietly landed. Harlon, good to his word was standing at the hardstand when we taxied up to it. We climbed out of the airplane fast.
We pushed the little airplane into position and Harlon had the fan running before we were in the position to tie it down.
"After action report later. I get off at 5. Bring a 6-pack. I don't usually drink but I want one when I hear this!" he said. "I got it from here. Go straight to Tony's and make yourself seen. You'll get there before he can. If a cop sees you there, better yet! Now scram!"
We raced to my pickup. I had helper Renny tow his VW to Smokey's dump a week or so earlier. We pulled into Tony's lot and ambeled in.
It was still too early for beer so we sat at the bar and drank coffee. We were both pretty keyed up and had a hard time not showing it.
We waited for almost an hour and the little thug stormed in carrying a duffel bag with his face still in a panic he was still very visably shaken. The bartender asked him what he wanted and he snapped, "Nothing. I'm leaving town!"
Renny was sitting on my right. Blaine, who had wandered in, was on my left. He walked up to Blaine. "I'm from LA," he said. "Back there the Tongs cut you up, the mob shoots you and the gangs do both but I never lived anywhere where the people will try to chop you up with an airplane propeller and drop bowling balls on you! I'm out of here!"
In a show of typical chutzpah, I leaned over and asked him if he'd take $50 for his truck. Renny needed a vehicle.
"Done deal," he said, walked off and in a minute returned with the title and asked for a pen. He scribbled his signature on it and handed it to me. I handed the title to Renny.
"Hundred bucks," said Renny. "P.A.F."
P.A.F meant 'pay after fishing'. I knew Renny was short of cash and nodded.
Back then a title could be transferred with a simple signature. No notary was required but I don't know about today. It was blank and Renny would simply fill in the details and be good to go.
Blaine gave me a knowing look. "Bowling balls, huh? OK, what'ja do?"
"Later," I replied. "Let's just get this jerk out of town first." Blaine nodded.
The jerk told the bartender to call him a cab which showed up quickly. It was a quiet day for the cabbies. When it arrived the little thug turned and faced the entire bar. "I'm outta here and I hope I NEVER see this place again!" He looked at the cabbie and said, "Take me to the airport!"
He walked out and the two of them drove off.
Blaine looked at us. "What if he gets drunk and they don't let him on the airplane?"
"Penny owes me a favor," said Renny. He got up went over to the pay phone, made a call and returned. He said the fix was in. He was booked on the next flight out, leaving in a few hours.
Penny worked at the state airport which was shared with the Coast Guard. She was a stocky, cheerful woman capable of carrying him on the plane if need be.
We frittered the rest of the afternoon sitting at the bar. Everyone was trying to figure out what had made that little thug leave town on such short notice. Airplanes? Bowling balls? What was that all about? Then they'd just shrug. Most of us had seen people leave town before on short notice. It was no big thing to us. People came and went.
Renny and I went out to look at his new to him pickup. We opened the camper and as to be expected the interior was demolished. There was a huge dent in the floor. Later when we pulled the camper off the truck at the dump we discovered a dent in the bed. The ball had hit hard.
We went through the cabinets and storage spaces and salvaged what we could and transferred the salvagable stuff to my pickup. I pulled out a halfway decent propane refrigerator I could use. Mine was shot and this one served me well for a couple of years.
We found a .32 automatic pistol in the glove box along with a couple of cheap punk knives and a .45 under the seat. I took the .45.
We went back into Tony's and the bartender told us Penny had called and the message was "The plane left and he was on it." It was getting close to 1700 so we grabbed a six pack and went back to municipal and gave Harlon out After Action report. He laughed gleefully and his face lit up when I handed him the .45. He had earned it.
Renny ran the truck for the season and then returned to Seldovia. He sold the truck to Doc who sold it to Blaine who later put it on the ferry and took it to Anchorage and traded it for the Rock n Roll Cadillac. The Caddy was instrumental to a later adventure which is another story.
Aftermath.
Jim Juth spotted me wandering through the bowling alley bar a couple of months later. He took me aside and told me he had very serious misgivings on selling me the bowling balls but considering nobody got hurt he thought it was the funniest thing he had ever heard. He, too was glad to get that punk out of town. I don't know how he found out but it was a small town and there are few secrets in one. Jim also bought me a beer.
Renny made a killing flying as a roe herring spotter that season but his greed cost him his life the following year. Against all advice he flew alone without a spotter to look out for other airplanes. He was killed in a midair collision.
Forty years later. We didn't want to hurt the little bastard. Like the person that has his car crapped on by birds, we were simply putting out a plate of fried chicken and scrambled eggs to show the damned birds what we were capable of!
Remind me never to push you out of the way...unless it's from a falling bowling ball.
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