Now, a bit of a back story on how I ended up in Fran's bedroom and Peter on the couch (underneath the shroud, etc.)...
Peter had called me up and said; "Its time for a road trip.... Are you in?" (With the usual "I'm not telling you. Its too stupid, so that's why we're doing it." in response to my question of where we were going.)
So, I checked my calendar and said I could get up to New Britski that Thursday evening and we could take off (to wherever) the next day.
On Friday morning, after a night on Peter's couch (I think I had to wrestle his German Shepherd, Abbey, for sleeping rights) we drove over to the shop, hitched up the two car trailer and loaded an ERA427SC.
"Where to?" I asked. "Waterville, Maine." was the reply, "Just north of Boston..." Well. it is sort of just north of Boston, but only if you're looking at a wall map of the entire country. For you left coasters looking at a map, I'm here to tell you that it is a good six hours driving time, each way, pulling a trailer. The drive up was uneventful (albeit cold an damp) and we arrived by mid afternoon. (I would note that this was almost twenty years ago and we were younger then and did not need to stop as frequently as we do now...) We unloaded the car and turned it over to another happy ERA camper. By 10:00 pm that evening, we were back at the ERA shop and loaded two ERAGT kits for the following day's journey.
After another night wrestling Abbey on the couch, we were up early for the journey. "Where to today?"; "We're taking these out to Fran in Pittsburgh." "Pittsburgh!!!" ...and, so, off we went.
Now Pittsburgh is more than an eight hour haul from ERA's World Headquarters, so it was early evening before we arrived. Our destination was actually the home of one of Fran's cronies, a circa 1890's "Captain of Industry" Victorian mansion up on a high hill over looking Pittsburgh.
A long winding driveway curved in next to the house and then on further down the hill to a more modern, good sized building where the owner kept his toys.
All the way out, Peter had been moaning and groaning about having to deal with Fran. "He'll give me a whole bunch of checks and none will be his. He'll want credits for things that he doesn't want or for things that he sent me for some other project. I won't keep up with him and I just know I'll come out short."
We unloaded the cars and then walked over to a patio table next to the house. The wind was blowing and the temp had to have been 40 degrees, but felt much colder. And then it began. Back and forth they went, Peter and Fran, little slips of paper with numbers on them blowing off the table, a pile of checks (the only one that had a Kress name on it was an account of Fran's mother) being waived around.
Things finally got resolved and the owner of the mansion asked if we would like to stay there that evening, that his wife was away and there was plenty of room. We replied that we planned to stay at a Holiday Inn out next to the PA turnpike, when Fran chimed in and said; "No, you have to stay at A la Maison Kress." He would not be denied, and so down into Pittsburgh we went. ...and so that's how I ended up in Fran's bed. (Peter said that since I had slept on his couch for two nights, he would take the couch at Fran's, although, I think the real reason was that he was suspicious of what else might be living under Fran's sheets.) And just so the record is clear, Fran spent the night on the floor in the unfurnished apartment upstairs.
...and, to this day, Peter has never forgiven me for caving into Fran.
Jim
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