Catch As Cat Can

                Murphy disagreed with her companion."I don't think so. I think she likes to go her own way but if she has to work in a group of humans she wants to get he job done. Mother doesn't want to hear a lot of personal stuff about peoples lives-girl talk. Hates it."

                "I think she could run Crozet every bit as much as Big Mim."

                "She has the ability but not the desire." Mrs. Murphy sat up and thought how civilized it would be to travel in a phaeton on a perfect spring day such as this.

                "Don't forget Little Mim." Tucker, who had been inspecting every tem on the floor of the shop, walked over.

                "True." Pewter considered the social and political ambitions of Mim's sole daughter."She's vice-mayor now, too."

                Jim Sanburne, husband to Mim, father to Little Mim, was mayor and had been mayor since the middle of the 1960s. His laughter challenged him for the mayoralty in the last city election nit they compromised and she became vice-mayor, appointed by her father, approved by the City Council. Had she gone through with the campaign it would have divided the community. This way harmony was preserved and she was mayor-in-training.

                "Go over to O'Bannon's," Don suggested."Artists go there. Not just motorheads. BoomBoom Craycroft is there once a week, sifting through scrap metal."

                "What?"

                "She's welding artistic pieces. Says it grounds her."

                "Give me a break." Harry grimaced."BoomBoom can't stick to anything and every new activity is her salvation and ought to be yours, too. Well, at least she's out of her group therapy phase."

                "Ready for the Dogwood Festival next weekend? Our mid-April rites of spring?" He changed the subject.

                "No." She pursed her lips."Damn that Susan. She suckers me every time."

                "What do you have to do this time?"

                "Parade coordinator."

                "Yeah?"

                "Means I have to line everyone up at the starting place, Crozet High School, space them correctly, use the bullhorn, and get them marching. It's easy enough until you consider who's marching in the parade. The clash of egos-

our version of Clash of the Titans."

                Don laughed."BoomBoom especially. Your favorite person."

                Harry started laughing so hard she couldn't talk."She's leading a delegation of disease-of-the-week. I forget which disease."

                "Last year it was MS."

                BoomBoom Craycroft, a beautiful woman and an ambitious one, each year selected a charity. She would then lead this group in the annual parade, a celebration of spring and Crozet. It wasn't just that she wished to perform good deeds and help the sick, she also wanted to be the center of attention. She was too old to be the head majorette for the high school, obviously, so this was her venue.

                "I suppose we wouldn't laugh so hard if we had whatever illness it was but I can't help it. I really can't. I think she should lead a contingent for breast reduction." Harry giggled. BoomBoom carried a lot of freight upstairs.

                Don gasped."Don't do that."

                "Spoken just like a man. You twit." She made a gun out of her thumb and forefinger and "shot" him. She walked over to the huge safe."Got your millions in there?"

                "Nah, just half a million." He laughed, then thought a moment. Give me two weeks on the woodpecker. You've hit me at a good time."

                "Great." She gave him a high five and picked up her brood to lead to O'Bannon's."See you at the parade."

                3

                With the exception of the interstates, the roads in Virginia were paved over Indian trails. They twisted through the mountains, leveled out along the riverbeds and streams, proving a joy to those fortunate enough to own sports cars.

                Harry, on the other hand, was the proud owner of two trucks. One truck, a dually F350, was expensive to run due to its big engine but she needed the power to pull her horse trailer. Thanks to a long-term loan she could afford the payments. She had three years left.

                For everyday use she drove her old 1978 Ford half-ton, ran like a top, was cheap to operate and repair.

                Today she curled around the hills and valleys in the old Superman-blue Ford, the two cats and Tucker cheerfully riding in the cab, commenting on the unfolding countryside.

                Don Clatterbuck's business rested just past the intersection with Route 240 on Whitehall Road. The O'Bannon Salvage yard was located east of town on that same Route 240, tucked off the highway so as not to offend intensely aesthetic souls. To further promote good community relations, the O'Bannon brothers had put up a high, solid, paled fence around the four acres, a considerable expense. A large, pretty, hand-painted sign swayed on a wrought iron post at the driveway, right by the big double gate. A black background with                white lettering read "O'Bannon Salvage," and a red border competed the sign. What made everyone notice the salvage yard, though, wasn't the sign but the black wrecker's ball hanging from a vane positioned next to the sign. Each morning Sean or Roger opened the heavy chain-link fence gate and each evening they locked it, the wrecker's ball and crane standing like a skeletal sentinel.