The '68

The old doors rattled and squeaked as the rollers moved for the first time in ages. I winced as a musty smell of old hay, dirt, oil, and manure flew out of the opening. Dust and old wood fell from everywhere. It wasn’t my quietest moment of scavenging, that’s for sure. Luckily this place was in the middle of nowhere, and it was pretty obvious that no one had been here for decades. Rural farms were slowly making a comeback the past few years, mostly as communes, but places like this typically need too much work to rebuild.

Something skittered away into the darkness inside. I hoped it was just a rat, but there was no way to know what it was. I stood there for a full minute letting my eyes adjust to the dim light inside the old barn. It really wasn’t as dark as it seemed at first. Streams of light beamed in through lots of holes in the roof and walls. The upper loft was lit very well, from a huge gap where most of the loft’s access door used to be. Dust rained like snowflakes through every bright beam of light and dimly floated everywhere else before disappearing in the dark shadows.

The area right in front of me was mostly empty. A few old tools lay near the wall to my right, some wood and bricks lay beside the door. The concrete floor was covered in mud, with the remnants of tire tracks from large tractor tires embedded in it. There was a huge, dark, bean shape where that tractor must’ve sat most of the time, slowly leaking oil day after day. As I stepped inside, I could see farther to my left, into the space past the bay doors. There was another door over there, probably to a small storage room, then a set of stairs up to an extended area of the loft. It would be difficult to explore over there though, that whole area was blocked off by piles of junk. I saw old bed frames, car tires, a door on its side, car parts, chairs, an old mattress, and oh… an aluminum ladder. That just might be handy.

Between the dust and the smell, my nose was really starting to tickle. My stomach wasn’t feeling too happy either. I’m pretty sure something was dead in here. Hopefully for quite some time. I walked over toward the pile of junk, and stepped over a half dozen 2 x 4’s and wooden blocks. Some of the blocks had metal gadgets of some type screwed to them, for some utilitarian purpose long forgotten. An old rope coiled and weaved between them. I picked up one loop of the rope, to see if it would be useful, but it was far too rotted. By the mud layer it would seem this place was partly flooded when they left.

On that side of the barn floor there were more tire tracks, some from car tires, but some were likely from a motorcycle, also long gone. There was also a very distinct impression of a footprint. Large, lugged soles of a typical work boot. No surprise there. What was surprising was that the area under the stairs was bigger than it first seemed, going back into an alcove where that storage room obviously ended. Under some more junk and a half rotten tarp, was something shiny, red, and pretty much car-shaped. I picked up one of the 2 x 4s and lifted the tarp a little. Shiny chrome and a pair of headlights peeked out. It was definitely a car. Probably why all the junk was piled up, to help hide it until the owner could come back for it. I guess they never got the chance.

I carefully tried moving more of the tarp but as Murphy would have it, it did not go well. Things began to fall and slide, an old car tire I hadn’t seen behind the pile now pushed toward me and knocked over a heavy metal farm tool of some sort. As it crashed noisily, I saw another rope was tied to a handle on it, which pulled down from above as it fell. The farmer had set a booby trap. It was a pretty smart one.

Luckily for me it was set so long ago that time, bugs, and animals had had their fill of the rope. As I followed the rope across the hood of the car to the far wall under the stairs, and as the dust cleared, I saw the real trap. Two sawed off barrels pointed right at me. There was a broken broom handle in the pile of stuff, which I used to push the gun upward. I’ll try to get it later.

They really meant business to keep this car protected. And that just piqued my curiosity even more. I carefully began moving the stuff and setting it to the side. Once I had moved most of it, I pulled back the tarp. It was a beauty. I was never much of a car buff, but I could tell it was from the 1960s or 70s. It was huge. I used my elbow to shine some of the bright red paint. I don’t think I’ve seen anything so colorful in years. I uncovered it the rest of the way and looked at it. Here was a hundred year old relic of better times. I had to laugh. That’s when I heard something move. My heart stopped. I turned quickly toward the loft. I could see fairly well now, but I couldn’t see anything moving. I pulled out the pistol I always carry with me – but so far had rarely needed.

I stood still. I looked at every dark corner. The broken broom handle was next to me, so I picked it up again and used to poke around under the loft. After about ten minutes of nothing I told myself it was probably that rat, and went back to the car.

It was now that I saw that the tires on the car were completely dry-rotted. That was a shame. I guess my brief hopeful dream of driving it out of here was a pretty ridiculous one anyway. Not like it would start. There was probably no gasoline for a hundred miles, either. Oh well.

I don’t know why, but I went over to it and wiped the dirt off of the driver side window. It was hard to see inside in the dim light. There appeared to be a box on the passenger seat, and something large in the back seat. Just for the hell of it, I grabbed the door handle and pulled. It took a second, but I realized the rectangle next to the handle was a button. I pushed and pulled and to my surprise the door opened. At first it only opened an inch, I had to wiggle it back and forth a bit and lift a little. Then the door made the most awful screech of metal scraping that I had ever heard - even my days scavenging in the city never made anything to compare. Birds flew from nearby trees, some kind of animal made a shriek in the loft and I’m pretty sure that rat jumped out the nearby window. This was most definitely not my quietest hunt to date.

With the door open, I looked inside. I had only ever seen the inside of an old car like this in pictures. The gauges and buttons looked like something out of science-fiction. On the seat, lay a set of keys.

“Well look at that…”

As I picked up the keys and looked inside the car, I could see the box on the seat was a toolbox, which must be fairly heavy, judging by how much it had flattened the padding in the seat. In the back – four, perfect, brand new tires.

“Hol-lee fu……” I stammered and touched the rubber, flicking the little whisker-like things around the edge. I backed out of the door and smiled. Then I looked at the keys. There were three. Two were labeled “ign.” and “d/t”. I wasn’t quite sure what that meant, but I knew they probably fit the car. The third was smaller and had no label. I tried one in the door. It pushed into the little silver circle easily, but wouldn’t turn. I tried the other one, and it turned! I remembered seeing a similar circle on the trunk. Around the back I went, wiping some dirt off of silver letters near the big pointy bumper. “l e s a b r e” I spelled out the fancy writing. “Lee sabree?” It didn’t matter. I was curious to see what was in the trunk.

The key turned but seemed stuck. I kept trying, and after a minute the latch popped. I was ready for another squeal like before, but it wasn’t so bad. The springs clunked and made eerie boinging sounds.

Inside was a suitcase, another toolbox, and an orange plastic gas can – which was empty. I unzipped the case and part of the leather tore away. The whole thing was rotted and holes. Inside, was nothing but shredded paper. Chewed paper really. It was several generations of rats nest. Though on the right side, I could see some of the paper clearly. I pulled one out.

“United States of America.” “1000.”

Money. It was money. All the same. “Well, now we know why they didn’t want it found. Probably millions of dollars in here.” I bet it was stashed in here when the banks all crashed in the 30s. I laughed. “If they only knew it would be worthless.”

The tools on the other hand, they would be useful. I opened the top of the box. Inside were several screwdrivers and files and loose sockets. Under the tray was a hammer, more sockets, and various tools I didn’t recognize. Behind the toolbox was a large metal wrench of some sort, shaped like a big X. I had seen one once before, at a garage in the city. I think it’s for the wheels. I laughed again. “This farmer really liked tires or something.”

I looked at the third key. I went around to the driver side again and looked at the box on the seat. Sure enough, it had a padlock on it. I sat down in the driver seat and took a moment to look at the controls. Everything was marked even though I wasn’t sure what some of them were for. I recognized the mph/kph on the big square gauge in the middle. Fuel, oil, temp. It seemed pretty straightforward.

I turned to the box, and tried the key in the lock. Surprisingly it popped open easily. And one surprise on top of another, inside was not tools. On top was some rags, under which was another shotgun. There were several pistols. The rest of the box was full of ammunition. I was starting to think this was no ordinary farmer.

The bottom of the toolbox had a drawer that could be unlatched from inside the box. In the drawer were a bunch of papers – invoices of some kind, and another key. This was a strange looking key with a round barrel. Attached to it was a tag from MacNamara Tire and Auto. I guess that explains the tires. I knew where that was actually. I had been there a few weeks ago. The garage was picked clean like the rest of the city. On the back of the tag was written “Pump key”.

I was beginning to think I had a lot of work ahead of me, and another visit to that garage. I got out the gas can, covered the car as best I could, and started walking.