Cycle News - Archive Issues - 1960's

- ", - "" .... ; Five acres of farmland at ooe-baJf its normal value was no surprise to Jason Boyd. He bad heard tile stories of tile Ii: three previous owners, tIIeir deatbs and wbat people were saying. Tbe realtor bad ~ assured him tbat tIIese local folks were ~ mostly from the old country and bad .... brougbt tIIeir superstitions witil tilem, ..; and tilelr beliefs were not untouched by .... local Influence. TbJs land was once oc~ cupied by indian tribes tbat bad thrived ~ on tile worship of pagan gods and witcb (I) doctors, wbo It is said were given the ~ power to restore ute after deatb and Cl even give ute to inanimate objects. So, three people bad died and their crumpled, bruised bodies were found In roadside ditches and one at the bottom of a steep graded hill. Coincidence, notblng more! Jason was a writer of both fact and fiction, witil easy talent In judgIng wblcb was wblcb. He only wanted this parcel of land and Its house as a seclusion, escape from the bickerlngofnelgbbors and boisterous volley of screams and cbatterlng of local children. Tbis was perfect! Fifteen miles from town, lovely country atmosphere, snug one bedroom cottage, barn, toolshedand all of the equipment found on the pre- - agoa1ZIng sound tbat bad drawn him here. Everytb!ng was In itspJace. Maybe it's the door, for be bad moved tbat wben be emered. He turned to leave and his eyes flitted over tile indian motorcycle. Sometblng was strange. All of the dust and dirt was gone and he bad noticed before tbat the front forks bad been bent. But now they were straight. Why, someone must bave been In here working on It. That's not possible! Jason bad been working right by a window tbat looked out on this place and if anyone bad come Ibis way he would bave noticed. It was strange tbat he bad thought this machine dirty. There was no indication it bad been parked here more !ban a day, tbat Is if he didn't know better. Jason checked everything over, all the bolts and nuts looked secure. Wheels were well up on air. Jason stepped closer and wiped his finger across the red paint that looked fresh on the machine's tank.. It's clean all right. He then noticed some cobwebs were laced from spoke to spoke on the rear wbeel and then to the shed's wall. Hmm, It couldn't bave been moved. stranger It must bave been this way before. He bad seen It during the day and coming In to a windowless building out of the strong light must bave forced his eyes to conceive things not as they really were. Now at night there was no sudden change and - sure, tbat's it! There were all types of mechanics' tools bere In the shed and even a bundle of old rags tbat would serve well for cleaning up. Since the noises bad bothered Jason, he couldn't sleep and so why not workon the machine. He grabbed one of the rags and with the quick actions of a man who cannot stand the sight or touch of cobwebs, brushed them free of the machine. Wbat was tbat?! Sometblng like a cat purring. There was no cat In here. Tbe sound was almost as though It came from the cycle. Oh, boy!, now his Imagination was getting out of hand. He threw the rag down and reached for a wrench tbat was near at hand. Let's see, where to start? Well, better check the oil tank, can't forget tbat lubrication of the moving parts is a necessity. He laid aside the wrench and twisted oft the cap that revealed the cavernous gut of the 011 tank. Bone dry. "1 wonder if there's some oil In Ibis shed somewbere? ,OJ thought Jason. He turned and rummaged through the few boxes tbat lined tbe shed's bench and STRA GE OISES By Bob Ebeling .. mises. Well, there wasn't much in tools or equipment but, there was one thing tbat interested Jason. Out In the shed was an old motorcylcle: "indian" the emblem read. He bad noticed It was pretty cruddY, with ages of dust and cobwebs enshrining It. If it could be cleaned and repaired, there would be a perfect vehicle for trips to town. "I'm a pretty good mecbanlc on cycles," thought Jason. "I bad my day with the two-Wheelers, scrambling and cow irailing through the boondocks. Well, right now the problem at hand is to get settled and start writing the article for news monlbly. Deadline 15 only a week ofl.'J Eight frustrating hours bad passed and Jason accomplished no more !ban one page of his monthly contribution for the pUbltC. Tbese strange sounds of the country were nerve-wracking to a newcomer, especially at night when you know there Isn't a living soul within five miles. The windows and doors were all closed, but the sounds seemed to bave an uncanny abillty to penetrate through anything, even wben Jason bad put his fingers In his ears, some of the gawdawful noises bad passed this ear plug barrier. One In particular. It resembled bending metal and a gutteral moan of buman pain. He could almost believe, tbat the old Indian tribes were out tbere practicing an orgy of resurrection. Jason couldn't stand It any longer. He bad to find the source, kill It if It was allve or tear It down if mecbanical. standing on the front porcb, the noises were all magn1f1ed to a louder pitch and It wasn't hard to pinpoint the one Jason detested most. Tbe tool shedl It must be sometblng In the way of a tool, scraping against the rougb unnntsbed wooden wall. As be emered the shed, be noticed there was DO longer tile floor. No, well be bad some reclaim stuff he bad purcbased on the way out to the ranCh, to feed hls always oil-hungry auto. Jason left the shed and went Into the house to get his keys for access to the 011 In the car trunk. Strange, he though, I almost felt like something was holding me back when I left the shed. I guess it's just a little eagerness to see it I can't get the bike to run. He went back out to the shed after getting the pint of 10-cent oil and looked about tor something to make a funnel from. There was an old newspaper, a copy of "Cycle News". Just the thing, roll it up with one end small and it's a perfect funnel. As he placed the small end Into the oll tank opening, the front wheel suddenly turned sharply and hit him on the leg. "Damn It!", he said, "almost made me spill this stuff." He turned it back and again started to purr, when the front wheel gyrated violently left, then right. The can dropped to the floor and its sticky black contents began spreading from the punctured openings. He bastily picked it up and managed to save at least half the contents, enough to do the job. Jason was so angered, it never occurred to him wbat the wbeel bad done, there was just the fact that he was clumsy and bad dropped the oil. Tbe subconscious mind bas subtle powers and Jason's next move was well In its control. He straddled the front wbeel and squeezed it tightly between his legs to prevent movement, stretched his body out to reach and then poured with the newspaper funnel and half empty can, the remaining contents Into the tank. A terrible sound came out of the 011 tank, almost like someone gagging. Tbe oU shot back out the filler cap, coverIng Jason's face, arms and cbest with small drops of tile ugly Uquid. He swore an oath of words tbat fortunately were only lost on the nigbt sir. That's euough, his mind screamed and be strode from the shed and alammed the wooden doors behind as be stomped with the arrogance of a man, mad at the world, towards the house. Something bad more control over that mach1ne !ban he did! Next morning Jason thought over his experience of the night but only cursed himself for Inadequacy as a mecbanic after the passage of years bad separated him from acquaintance with handling tools or filling forks with oil. "I must remember to get some more oil wben I'm in town today, and a couple of gallons of gas," thought Jason, as he went to work on his typewriter and the work be bad before him. It was well after dark and Jason felt pleased with the work done since morning. He bad finished the column except tor a little correction and bad been to town for various errands. Didn't forget the oil or gas either. He gathered the cans and went to the shed. Tbere was a strange feeling of being glad to come back out here he thought, "It's li.lmostas though the cycle Is welcoming me, just as though it, or someone, was trying to control his activity." All day long he bad fought the urge to return immediately and replaced it with the work assignment. Now he could do this right! He never noticed tbat the shed was clean and tbat all the traces ot last night's errors bad disappeared, only the task at hand was before his mind. No funnel was used this time. He punctured £he can of fifty-cent oil and poured it directly to the hole, that almost looked as though it were a pair of lips pused In an attempt to say tbanks. '!be cap was replaced. Jason smiled to himself, not at all regretful about how easily he bad one it. In fact, pretty proud In tbat only an expert mechanic could pour oil like that. He opened the gas tank cap and found there was still some there, but decided It wise to add some. Checked the chain, it was okay. No rust and well lubricated. ! might as well try and fire it, he sald out loud. Jason threw his leg over the seat and looked about, just like a child would on a new rocking horse. He then pulled In the clutcb lever, plenty of play and not too hard or stiff to operate. Throttle turns easy, doesn't stick. Now wbere are the fuel shut-ofts. His band tound them alreadY open and then his eyes led the band to the Ignltion switcb. But before he had actually touched it, the switch moved to on position. Jason stared at the little chrome toggle arm. Damn, his imagination was at it again. Just to prove it he pushed the switcb to off. Before his fingers bad even left the lever, it Violently flew back open. Now just a minute! Tbere must be an eJqllanation, the switch must be bad. TbJs macbine can't bave a mind of Its own. He tried once again, but the switch seemed destined to stay at the on posttion. "Very well, I'll start you up," thought Jason. He moved the cboke lever to its full distance of movement and prepared to run the kick lever through. Before he bad thrown his weight down, the choke bad moved back to half. He moved it again to full open, only to watch In awe as it slowly crept back to its position of half. All right if tbat's the way it's to be, I'll start you there, he thought. No, wbat am ! doing, giving in to this mach1ne's way of doing things and wi th all the effort he could gather he held the cboke fully open and kicked the starter violently downward. Tbere was a huge belcb of fire through the intakes and carbs. Gasoline saturated his pants and the flames jumped eagerly to devour the evaporating fumes tbat enveloped his bodY from the knees down. Jason jumped In terror off the bike and his hands grasped dirt from the shed floor in a panicked eftort to smother the flames. It was just a flash really and they were put out without too much groveling in the dirt. Flash or not it was downright frightening! Tbe trousers were not too badly scorched. Only Jason's nerves were really the worse for wear. After he collected his thoughts, the anger began to rise. especially since it wasn't a bit tunny and he could swear that machine bad been laughing at him wblle he bad been rolling about on the dirt-packed fioor. I'll see tbat it won't bappen again, he thought, and stepped around to the machine's side wbere the kick starter was placed. He knew the switch was on and let that damn choke stay wbere it wanted. Wi th hls left foot on the start lever be ran it through swiftly and cbuckled as the engine rasped a few sbort eJqllosions from the exhaust pipe and than filled the shed wllb steadY, rbytbm1c exhaust notes. It sounds great, he tbougbt, as tile exhaust notes rapidly Increased tbelr cadence as be hrlsted the tbrottle open and quickly subsided wben the throttle was released. Well, he bad started it to ride, so wby not? Jason rocked it off tile stand and puncbed the sbift lever Into low and synchronized the increases In r .p.m. with the clutch release. He was so Impassioned with the thought of ridIng, It only occurred at the last moment that the shed door was closed, but it didn't matter tor the door opened as though to let a captive animal from Its cage. Tbe Indian cycle and Jason hurtled down the worn ruts into the darkness of a lonely country road which seemed normal enough, but Jason was clinging with the strength of a man suddenly stricken with unholy terror! He didn't bave control of the thing. Sure It bad been put in gear and all the accompanying movements bad been done by Jason, but tbat is wbere It bad ended. It bad been a long time since he bad been seated on a cycle and it was his every concern to take it easy. But tbat shed door bad opened and the throttle twisted right out of his grip. Just before reaching the road he badn't made a move to sbift, but the gearbox bad emitted a Uttle"snick" as second gear was engaged. Jason desperately leaned to the left in an attempt to turn tbat direction and the front end violently shook Its head and entered the road to the right. second gear all gone with the engine's r .p.m. singing the tune of many thousands of revolutions before third gear dropped Into place. Tbe same thing again and then fourth gear. TbJs tbIng does bave a mind of its own! Tbe wind wiped tears from Jason's eyes as new ones formed to take their place and strange gutteral sobs shook Jason's shoulders as his body was pressed by the winds tbat were moving by at 80 miles per hour. It was a long stretch of at least seven miles before the road began to climb towards the hill tbat overlooked the level farmland, a small piece of wblch Jason had purcbased at half its normal value. The seven miles gave him a chance to collect the fragments of wbat bad once been a sane mind and his thoughts traveled back over the lbings tbat bad bappened. Bent forks now straigbt, once dirty then clean. Sounds of bending metal and almost human sounds. Sbaking its head and the fire. My God, this Is a living thing! Tbe macbine leaned into a curve tbat began the climb Into the hills and Jason's mind sang out with thoughts of a possibillty. I can fight it! No machine can conquer man! The next series of curves were sharp cam b ere d shelves, one slightly above the other, almost a switchback road. Jason's arms tensed into rods of steel tbat were attempting to control the front end's movement but it was all to no avail. That front wbeel turned the way it Intended. Jason only gave up wben he saw the road disappear under the wbeels and replaced with a void of black open air. Right off the Uttle /lump of earth tbat made a ramp tor the Indian to soar majestically Into space from the highway's edge. Together man and machine plumetted downward into the void wbich ended abruptly wben the cycle'S front end smashed into the earth, hurtling Jason onto his face Into the same ungivlng soil. He felt the pain as his ,eck snapped and a thousand exhaust notes exploded when a rock smashed the skull into a Jigsaw of myriad cracks. Tbe last thought or sight of Jason's hu an existence was the cycle disappearing in the night, In a direction back towards the farm. Its exhaust notes were laughter, not human, nor mechnical. It was mocking him. He bad tried to put hls human strength against another dimension, another form of life many regard as not existing at all. FOOTNOTE The realtor was hoping that not too much attention would be given this death of the fourth owner. There was a pretty good profit in resales like this if the prospective customers were unaware of past histories. Just today he bad shown the property to a man who was amazed at the price. Why, he was an odd sort, said he noticed a dirty old motorcycle in the tool shed and wondered if It went With the property. Tbe realtor bad not known there was one before this and quickly replied to the customer tbat, "No, I'm going to take it home with me." He kind of liked to tlnker with mechanical things and the price of land was good enough tbat the customer couldn't turn It down just because the cycle didn't go with it. Wbat were those strange noises out by the shed? He bad noticed them when the customer bad left and well, be thought be would stop out there on the way borne and look it over. THE END

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