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The Not So Quiet Festival (standard:mystery, 21948 words)
Author: deaconburkeAdded: Oct 25 2006Views/Reads: 3545/2782Story vote: 0.00 (0 votes)
A Mysterious Photographer attends an art festival and gets involved in more than the arts.

"So, where you off to this time?" the voice belonged to my neighbor
Sylvia Potter. Yes we tended to call her Harriet behind her back. 

"I'm headed down to Mumfest." I replied. 

"Where is that being held?" 

"Small town down on the coast." 

"So how long you gonna' be gone?" 

"Till Sunday night or Monday, your people can park in my spot until

"Okay, you need anything before you leave. I could touch up those roots
for you." 

"Now Sylvia, you know this is my natural hair color." 

"It just ain't right for a man to have snow white hair at 35." I had
heard that before. I think I was about twenty five when it went snow 
white. "Must have seen a ghost," She said completing her thought. 

"Yeah, or one saw me." I kept my back to her as I arranged the cardboard
tubes and stands in the back of the ambulance. I didn't want the wooden 
tripod looking things to crush the cardboard tubes. Inside each tube 
rested one 24x30 photograph. Well they were sort of photographs. I am 
what is known, in the trade, as a retro photographer. 

The last thing to go into the old WWII vintage Dodge was the plastic box
of cameras. Those went into the floor board on the passenger side. The 
plastic box was waterproof so it doubled as a camera holder and coffee 
table. The storage box rested on a 4 inch pad of foam rubber. 
Vibrations were hell on my home made cameras. 

I took one last look at the rinky dink studio, then locked the rear
door. I pulled the Dodge out of my parking space then maneuvered it to 
a spot in front of the space beside. The second space held my camper. 
The camper was as much an antique as everything else I owned. \cf0 The 
camper wasn't an Aerostream but it did look like a small thermos bottle 
lying on its side. The camper was much more likely to make it to the 
festival without mechanical problem than the ambulance. The camper had 
only one moving system, two wheels and an axle. I checked and greased 
everything regularly. 

The Dodge however was another story all together. There was just no way
to drive a WWII vintage vehicle on a two hundred mile trip with any 
degree of confidence. When I bought the hulk on Ebay, I had to go get 
it with a rented truck and car hauler. It was the least expensive way 
to get it home. The little two wheel hauler just held the back wheels 
off the ground. I had to tie the steering wheel in place so that it 
wouldn't just fly all over hell. It was not the safest thing I ever 
did, but I drove carefully and stayed off the main roads. It was a pain 
but I got it home. 

"What the hell is that?" The man in the greasy coveralls asked. 

"Why Earl, didn't you ever see Mash?" I smiled over at him from the seat
of the 'rent a broken down truck'. 

"You mean that thing was in the TV show?" 

"No but one like it was. This one was in some guy's barn or storage
building. When he died the kids put it on Ebay." 

"Any you were the sucker who bought it?" 

"I was indeed." 

"So you couldn't junk it where ever the hell you bought it, you had to
bring it to my junkyard." 

"Oh no brother Earl, I brought it to have you restore it." 

"You smoking that green shit again?" 

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