Author’s note: My name is Jeffery Lockhart and here is
some of the background for my story. Marvin Simon lives in Virginia
Beach, Virginia. He has been collecting and restoring old gas
engines for 12 to 15 years. He has many that he has restored from
mummies into gems. You should see all the motors he has fixed! He
has two barns filled.
My father, Johnny Lockhart and Marvin have been tight friends
for thirty years and are inseparable. They have gone out hunting
for old farm motors and marine motors many times and have spent
hours in the shop.
I have gone with them also and have many tales and experiences
of old motor hunting to prove it. This story concerns some yellow
jackets we got into trying to pull out a marine motor. This all
happened about ten years ago when I was a teenager of 14. They
brought me along to do all the pulling and tugging. Mr. Godfrey has
since passed on (God Bless his Soul) and his sister has since
moved.
It was a cool day in late October. Our car was flying down the
country road. Inside we were warm and talking about that motor we
would find. I was in the back seat swallowed up in cushions.
‘What kind of motor is it?’ I said.
Marvin turned his neck to speak and still maneuvered the wheel
around curves.
‘Oh, it’s a two-horse upright marine Mianus. 1907 model.
Used on an inboard skiff workboat. Fella told me a Mr. Godfrey has
it sitting in a barn in Princess Anne County.’
Johnny leaned his head forward and lit a cigar. His hair was
wild and more grey than black and his nose protruded out far when
he talked.
‘Marvinlet me tell you how we’re gonna get that motor.
Are you listening?’
‘Yeah John, go on.’
‘Alright. Listen on this. First we’re gonna look over
that motor and see what we got. Okay?’
‘Yeah.’
‘Then we’re gonna come back with that flatbed trailer
and all of us grab it and winch that baby onto the bed and vamoose
outta there.’
‘Oh John, we can get it right here in this car.’
‘Marvin, you’re a boogot.’
There was the house. The Caddy slowed down fast. We checked the
name on the mailbox. N.B. Godfrey. We pulled into the dirt road
anxiously. The car nosed up and down in ruts. Soon we were on
grassy surface. Marvin honked and we all climbed out. Johnny left
his door , open as usual and walked up on the porch.
It was a two-story house, freshly painted. Rose bushes and
hollyhocks bloomed in the frontyard. Lightning rods pointed out of
a juniper shingle roof and smoke curled out the chimney. The screen
door creaked. An old white-haired lady looked at us through rimmed
spectacles as she leaned on a cane.
‘You come to see ’bout that motor?’
‘Yeah, where’s . . .’
‘My brother’s coming ’round the back door
now.’
I smelled some beans cooking and a faint whiff of cornbread. I
was awfully hungry.
We walked to the back of the house blowing frost off our
breaths. Standing in the bright sunshine was Mr. Godfrey. He was
short and wore farmer’s clothesbib overalls, a white shirt and
heavy shoes. He had a whiskery chin and white hair but very bright
eyes. He smiled and joked all along.
‘You must be Marvin Simon.’
‘Yes, I am. Hello Mr. Godfrey. Is that motor still
there?’
‘Oh yeah, you don’t think I’d sell it under your
nose, do you?’
‘No. You look truthful to me where’s the motor?’
Johnny was very anxious. Mr. Godfrey pointed with his cane.
‘It’s over yonder in that barn.’
The barn was huge and had two big swinging doors on front.
‘Let’s go get that baby.’
Johnny took off in a trot. Marvin and I followed and the old man
put down his cane and came along steady:
All at once a small, curly-haired dog flew past us yelping and
barking. Johnny stood by the barn door peeking in between the
cracks. Mr. Godfrey arrived blowing from the long walk up the rise
and pulled out a key. He turned the lock and flung open both
doors.
The barn was stacked with rusted farm implements and old tools
nailed to walls. He showed us the motor. It was a small 2 H. P.
Mianus but not so easy to get out. It was sunk in the ground and
covered with dirt, leaves and oily rags.
‘My daddy bought that motor off an old oyster tonger when I
was a young lad. He put her in his new skiff. We went fishing and
crabbing a many a summer and tonged oysters in Back Bay in the
winter. I remember one morning we had to crack ice with a mallet to
get out.’ Mr. Godfrey said.
‘Come on Jeff, let’s grab ‘er and jerk ‘er outta
here.’ Johnny bent over and put two strong hands on the
flywheel. I grabbed and we pulled. Nothing. Stuck solid.
‘Come on!’
Again we pulled. That mound of dirt cracked and I heard a
strange buzzing sound. Something stung my thumb. Yellow
jackets!!!
They began to pour out of the hole and swarm the barn. From here
it was all chaos and running. Hundreds of angry yellow jackets came
out of their nests and filled the air with meanness. Mr. Godfrey
quietly looked around the door. I sucked by thumb and ran outside
with yellow jackets buzzing about in droves. The little dog got
covered. They tangled in his fur and stung him viciously. He rolled
around yelping and biting with his teeth. Marvin ran away quickly
knocking them off. They came at my head hard. I ran fast down the
hill, my arms swinging wildly. Johnny got stung through his socks
and went in a rage. He ran backwards, back-pedaling and puffing on
his cigar furiously, laying out a smokescreen.
We got back to the Caddy panting and doctoring our wounds.
Marvin wanted to wait until they calmed down but Johnny had gone
beserk. He wanted to go back and fight. So we got in the car and
drove to the nearest hardware store. Johnny was driving and his
temperature was rising. He parked and entered the store hollering,
‘I’m gonna kill all them yellow jackets! Where’s your
buzz bombs?’ Everyone looked on silently.
He grabbed up half a dozen cans, rapidly reading labels and
spraying in the air. He barged past the cash register, slammed down
a twenty and took off. Riding back he continued to holler and plan
his attack. He tore up a cardboard box and made a funnel.
We drove by the house kicking up dust. Mr. Godfrey was on the
porch laughing with his sister. We bounced into the barn with
yellow jackets still flying. Johnny closed the windows and cracked
his side vent. He stuck in the cardboard funnel and shoved the
nozzle of the spray can through the hole. Safe, he sprayed and
sprayed, while spitting verbal abuse at their kind. In time all the
spray was gone. His voice became cracked and hoarse and most of the
yellow jackets disappeared. We went back to the house and walked
in. Mr. Godfrey and his sister were sitting at the kitchen table
eating bowls of beans and sopping up with cornbread.
‘Them yeller jackets raised a fit didn’t they?
Sandy’s under the house licking his stings. Reckon that old
motor will have to sit ’til another day:’
We were quiet and silent battlers.
‘Sit down and pick your heads up some.’
Mr. Godfrey and his sister shared their food and home with
us.
She found some turpentine and soaked by swollen thumb.
‘Maybe you can come back tomorrow after they’ve moved to
a new house. You just came in through the wrong door.’
We talked until dark and left.
Marvin and Johnny went back to get that Mianus the next day.
There were no yellow jackets but they used a great deal of
caution.
