Escaping The Long Arm Of The Law

"Hey Jimmy," someone cried out.

I turned just in time to catch a snow ball in the chest.  A little higher, and I've been eating ice.

"Attack," I hollered, scooping up enough snow to make a good sized cannon ball.  I charged Eddie to get my revenge.

From about 6 feet away, I let fly, and nailed him.  We kept up the fight for a minute or so, and then agreed to a truce as our arms wore out.

"Headed for the West Side?" I asked.  Growing up in our small town, this was short hand for the West Side Recreation Center.  A good government effort by the local mill owners to keep young hooligans under control.  Particularly during school breaks like the February Winter Vacation we were on.

"Yeah," Eddie replied.  "Maybe we can get a game up."

None of us would ever have a basketball career, or even make the school team but we still enjoyed pick up games at the Rec.  Eddie and I got to the Center about 15" later, only to find the other two guys that we were growing up with leaning against the front stairs.

"What's up?" I asked Johnny.

"Boilers out again," Johnny answered, "so no play today."

"So no play today," Mike laughed.  "A rhyme.  He's a poet, he don't know it, his feet show it, and they're Longfellow's."

Sorry, but that was about the level of our wit, this being our twelfth year.

That was the cast of characters that I spent many hours with from Middle School through High School.  Eddie, arguably the best athlete.  Johnny, who grew up to be a Doctor.  Who knew?  Mike, the quickest with a joke.  And me, tall, gawky Jimmy.

On this day, we started out to just take a long walk across town to see what was going on.  We didn't go looking for trouble.  Honest.

As we neared Center Road, the main cross town route, the snow was still coming down at a pretty good clip.  Maybe a little drier, but still good for snowballs.

"Let's get up on the tracks,"  Johnny suggested, "to see what the traffic's like on Center."

It's not that we were all easily led.  This was pretty standard stuff for us.  It's not as if we'd be dodging trains.  The mills in the South end of town had fallen on hard times.  There might be one train a week going through.

Once on the bridge that crossed Center Road you had to step carefully, but not a problem.

Although there was subsequently some disagreement about who came up with the next idea, I think it was Eddie.

"Geez, not much traffic, and it's moving slow," someone said.  "Some big snowflakes might hit them at that pace."

Well, we all picked up on that suggestion.  That meant snowballs dropped or thrown from the bridge.

"Together," I added.  We all scooped up some snow, and formed throw able balls.

"Ok," I directed, "on three.  One, two, three."

Good aim.  We caught a box truck from "Larry's Furniture" going under the bridge.  The snow balls smashed into the top of the truck, sounding like drum beats.

"Ready another volley to stop the invaders," said Mike, expanding the story line.

"Ready," Mike called out.  "One, two, three."

This time we caught a cross town bus.  At least one hit the windshield, a couple the roof.

Unfortunately, the police cruiser coming along behind the bus had a great view of the action.  Siren, flashing lights, the whole show.

"Quick, into the pipes," said Mike.  The pipes were another favorite place that we weren't supposed to go.

At some point, the town, expecting huge growth, started a system of drainage and sewer pipes through the center of town.  Pipes that would have made New York proud.  Since what little growth that had occurred was now standing idle, the pipes were dry more often then not.

They served as a way to move about town out of sight.  When construction of the system had stopped, an opening was left just to the North of the Center Road train bridge.

Across the bridge, and a short way up the track, Mike cried "follow me," slipping and sliding down the embankment toward the entrance to the pipes.

We pushed through snow covered bushes at the entrance, and quickly disappeared into the darkness.  The cruiser rushed up to the entrance, siren blaring.

"Stop, and come out of there," hollered one of the cops.

"Sure, copper," we all thought, and kept going.  We were a tough bunch.

And a good thing that we were, or we might have panicked.  3" into the system, and we ran into someone, or something.

"What the hell," from Eddie.  As usual, he'd outpaced us, so was the first to encounter what?

I was next, and hit both Eddie and what I realized was a full grown man.  Johnny and Mike then piled on without meaning too.

"Don't hurt me, please," said a scared voice.

"Hey, I know this guy," I said.  "This is my Uncle Fred.  He lives in the North End, and has a great collection of comic books."

Uncle Fred lived all his life in a small apartment, right across from the mill that he worked in.  He collected comics, not having much else to spend his money on.

"Uncle Fred," I said, "its me, Jimmy.  Are you lost?"

"Oh Jimmy," Fred said, "am I glad it's you.  Yes, I'm lost.  Can you get me back home?"

"Sure Uncle Fred," I said.  "Follow me, and you guys bring up the rear."

And that was the procession that came out of the pipe system into a waiting crowd.  Some were there to support the cruiser that had chased us.  The others were actually out searching for Uncle Fred who'd been reported missing.

Taken together, it turned out all right.  We were delinquents for throwing the snow balls, but heroes for rescuing Uncle Fred.  A narrow escape all around.