My father died in October near his fortieth birthday, this ended the summer, and put a whole new outlook on the school year. The only good news were plans to move near my Aunt Teen, Uncle Stall, and my Cousins Linda, Randy, and Barry. We decided to build an A-frame house in the lane down from them. My uncle Glenn was a contractor and he was going to build it along with my Uncle George and Cousin Bruce. It was to be a family effort. My Grandfather Pap Heim, and Glen’s sons, my Cousins Larry and Sammy all lent a big hand.                                                                                                               After school was over for the year, my Mother, Tammy my cat, and I moved in with my Aunt and Uncle. It was a full house but nobody seemed to mind. I bought a fifty seven Chevy over the summer and parked it outside there kitchen window. Every day my two cousins Barry and Randy would help me work on it. We did a fine job of taking the whole thing apart, knowing that putting it back together would be nothing short of a miracle. We loved every minute of it and only stopped to eat, drink and sleep. I’m sure we even dreamt of the car at night. The thing was we had fun and stayed out of trouble until one day…..                                                                                                                                Now as the story goes, the motor ran but the transmission didn’t move the car so every thing was safe. We would start the car every now and then; revving up the motor which made oil fly out of the breather on top of the engine. That was a sign the compression rings on the pistons were shot. One day we were running the engine and I dropped the shifter into drive, and walla, it lunged forward in a fit of smoke and noise. IT’S ALIVE!!! IT’S ALIVE!!! We shouted. All three of us had the biggest smiles of satisfaction a kid could ever have, except maybe on Christmas morning. “Hop in guys” I yelled.                                                                                                                                                The only problem the seats were out, so we temporarily replaced them with five gallon buckets. Barry rode shotgun and Randy in the back. As we lunged forward they tried to hang on to there buckets any way they could. “OH MY WORD!” Randy yelled.   We had taken the hood off earlier and didn’t feel we needed it now. This would only make a cooler effect. We got to see the engine and what went on under the hood.           Down the lane we went, with oil spraying out of the engine, covering the windshield. On with the wipers!! Well wouldn’t you know it, my Uncle, there Dad Harry was on his way up the lane. Barry and Randy’s eyes barely cleared the dashboard but I know there dad saw them, and although they were scared of might happen to them when they got home they felt it was worth it.                                                                           We turned around in the lane at our new house which wasn’t finished at the time. Dropping the Chevy into drive I put the pedal to the floor to get enough speed so we could make the hill at the top of the lane. This really blew the oil out of the motor, and when it landed on the hot exhaust pipes it quickly turned to smoke. I knew when we would stop the car the smoke would quickly turn to flames. Randy and Barry jumped out at the top of the hill. With five gallon buckets in hand, they ran to the pool and scooped as much water as they could carry. I stopped far away from the house and sure enough there was fire. They were there just in time with the water to put the fire out without any damage, or need to call the fire department. Much to our surprise there Mom and Dad weren’t to mad knowing boys will be boys.                                                                                The little ride was the best reward the three of us could ever ask for. That summer we worked like men on that old fifty seven and on that glorious day we got a man sized ride for our labor. My little cousin Randy died of cancer a few short years later. I only hope the time we shared together made for a lifetime of fun and adventure for him. His younger brother Barry went on to become a custom car builder. He restored many cars and airplanes; even a fifty seven Chevy. He told me restoring it brought back a lot of memories. He died a year ago from a bad heart and I know there in Heaven reminiscing about some of the old adventures we shared. I never got that car on the road, but I realize now it was there car as much as mine. It taught all of us a good lesson and gave us a summer we will never forget.