In the Days of Ambergris

The first part of a story from a time of whale fat-powered machinery.

T'was about nearing the middle of noon on a steamy dark day in the middle of June when me and Alise decided to go for a nice coach ride through the park.  "Ought to be a good time for the weather, when nobody else will be in the roadways"  It sounded a good idea, as something that I rarely think of to extricate myself from the premises and gallivant about in the noonday air for no other reason except enjoyability and my own sense of health and vitality.  "Well certainly Alise, let's go traipsing through the city streets for a time. See what the outside world has in store for us"

Such a novel idea, but of course I didn't exactly estimate what would be required of such an adventure.  Besides the delightful selection of pastries Alise collected in her picnic basket, there was the usual fitting of galoshes, ventilation masks, and goggles to make our way in the filth of the city streets in an open car buggy.  But given enough time and inclination we suit up all proper like and make our way to the garage.

The coach which will escort us through the streets of New Amsterdam this fine day is one of my father's own manufacture.  Father was a wise man and good with a tinkering eye.  He could build a boiler out of a couple cans of Old Alabaster, two nickels, and a handful of twine.  He outfitted an old pressure cooker with some plumbing supplies and the wagon wheel from my childhood days to make a fine carriage.  True, it does have some complications relating to grease buildup in the intake valves, but we have our own home remedies to alleviate said situations when they arise and we would rather make do with father's home concoction and ride around in pride rather than bankrupting ourselves on these new fanciful motorcoaches we see being sold downtown.  They lack the character a good home-built machine can provide.  Instead you get a ridiculous steed of pomp and steel.

Starting up father's creation does take a little bit of patience as well though.  Once you get a good load of blubber in the main tank, you really need to fish it down to the crankcase. We use an old fireplace shovel to really scrape it down there all the while making it's horrid gurgling, bubbling sounds.  You then prime the pressure tank with a few good cranks on the starting motor.  Once the good horse gets firing, and there's a solid stream of the gray smog trailing out of the exhaust pipe - be careful the stench can be overwhelming and very eye-watering - then we ply the motor with a few throttles as you hear the gurgling turn into sharp bursting fits of  fat corpuscles exploding faster and faster.  Eventually building to a steady stream and what one might consider a "wet purr".

Out of the garage we head and Alise is holding on to her hat.  She's looking fetching today as she just recently picked up a pair of thin ladies' goggles.  She had always fretted about the size and fit of the bulky men's pair we had found in the garage lying around.  They worked fine to keep the grease in the air from getting in the eyelids but it did not complement her features at all.  These new covered spectacles were a trimmer variety that were more elegant on the face for her.  I tried them on and found them limiting and fragile, but she seems to be fine with the sacrifice.

Puttering down the cobblestone paths of Broad Street, we take in the scenery.  The cloud cover looks peaceful and you can look out over a good 4 or 5 blocks before the haze blurs what's ahead.  Few others seem to be out at this hour, although I notice our butcher from the market up ahead.  "Isn't that Sheridan?" Alice seems as excited as I am.  We don't know him that well, but he's an excitable fellow and it's curious to see him out from behind the market stand.  "Sure is, wonder who let him out of his trappings?"

"Hello Sheridan, how are you this fine day?"

"Oh hello, it's Mr. and Mrs. Pelligrew, correct?"

"Yes, that's us for sure.  Where are you headed here?"

"Oh, just heard about a big haul coming in from the waters off the coast.  I hear they brought in a couple Orcas and even a Big Blue"

"A big blue?  Really?"

"Sure as it can be.  I'm already headed back from there.  It's a big fellow at that too.  You two should head over there.  They're still carving him up"

 

—August 30th, 2009

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