The Tent, 1971, concluded.

 

Photo Credit: Stallionwiki

Grade ten, I hung out with Lloyd from London, which meant wandering the streets at all hours of the day and night, as if there was anything happening, anything to see. 

There wasn’t, but we still tramped all the highways, byways and alleys.

It was a really dirty winter, no snow, but squalls of cold, benumbing rain right off the Lake (and down the back of my neck). We spent a lot of time in Tim’s, teasing the girls behind the counter and reading the latest atrocities in the Scandal Sheet, but as coffee cost money and we were often broke, we spent a lot of time outside.

One of our favorite spots was the Park by the Lake, especially on those wild, tempestuous nights when the dark waters had been whipped into violent frenzy by a nocturnal gale. In the middle of the Park there was an old, weather-beaten gazebo, its green paint, chipped and faded and we would sit there, on the picnic table strategically placed in the centre of the floor and listen to the huge breakers crashing into the rocky shore. It was often too cold to smoke and so we would just sit there, listening and talking about all the things we were going to do once we fled this turkey-town.

On a Hyperborean night in late November, we were passing the Dominion Store on our way to Tim’s when I noticed a familiar vehicle heading west on Lakeshore.

A black 1951 Buick. 

“You see that thing,” I muttered, a stab of cold fear making me keep my voice down.

“That old Roadmaster,” Lloyd said, gesturing towards the car, which was moving slowly in the downtown traffic.

“Don’t look at it,” I barked, practically jumping out of my skin.

“Why not?”

“I’ll explain.”

And later, as we sat with our double-doubles at the picnic table in the gazebo, I told him the whole thing – or, at least, all I knew about it.

“Is this really true,” Lloyd asked, his arching eyebrows looking even archer than usual.

“Everything I’ve told you about this is true.”

“How come I’ve never heard about it?”

“I dunno,” I admitted. “I’ve often wondered about that myself. We’re older now, adults really, but we never really talked about them much when we were kids. Like we were afraid to mention them…I’ve never really heard any of the old people talk about them.”

“I’ve got an idea,” Lloyd said. “This is too good an opportunity to miss.”

"That's what I was afraid of."

The End...for now. 

Photo Credit: Steven Pisano