Boomtown (22 page)
“That's called the Pet Parlor. You put your dog or cat inside. The head fits through that adjustable opening. Once it's closed, you plug in the hose and pump in hot, soapy steam. It's basically a variation on the self-cleaning bathroom. The air fan turns on, and the dog or cat comes out clean and dry.”
Sarah said, “Effeneff wouldn't like that very much.”
Jonny asked, “Does it come in a sister-size?”
Sarah and Ruth both punched his arm.
“Ow!” Jonny cried.
I pointed at the second object. “What about this?”
“That's the Hair Vacuum. Put it on over your head and attach the hose to a regular vacuum cleaner. It's great for removing dandruff or straightening hair.”
“And this?”
“The Naughty Nanny. It's a magnetic belt that connects at the back. If one of your children misbehaves, you put this around her waist and stick her to a metal surface, like a washing machine or refrigerator. That way you can keep an eye on her while she thinks about what she's done.”
“Very nice,” I said, glancing at Sarah. “Where can I buy one of those?”
“Look in the Sears and Roebuck catalog. They come in three different sizes.”
Samora continued. “Next we have the Baseball Bazooka. That was actually invented by my father, based on an earlier design by my great-sgrandfather. Here. Let's take it out of the case, and I'll show you how it works.”
She pulled a small key out of the pocket of her dress and opened the glass door. From a cabinet underneath she handed Jonny a baseball bat and Ruth a catcher's mitt and she grabbed a canvas bag filled with rubber balls.
“Let's put this exhibit away. That will give us the space we need.”
We walked to the main door where Samora flipped the switch. The inventions exhibit disappeared into the floor. We moved out into the center of the room while Jonny and Ruth took up positions near the wall. Samora described the features of the bazooka.
“There's a rechargeable canister of compressed air in the stock. Up here is where you insert the balls. They're made of rubberâjust for practiceâso we don't have to worry about breaking anything. You just point, aim, and pull the trigger.”
The gun went off with a loud pop and the ball flew from the gun past Jonny's swinging bat and
smack
into Ruth's mitt.
“I surprised you with that one,” Samora said. “Let's see if you can hit this!”
She pulled the trigger and another ball flew across the room. This time Jonny was ready and he whacked the ball off the back wall.
“Home run!” we all cheered.
Samora adjusted a knob on the side of the gun. “If you twist this knob, you can change the trajectory of the ball. Turn it up and it will throw a curve ball. Turn it down and it will throw a sinker. Watch this.” She pulled the trigger again and Jonny swung through a diving curve ball.
“My turn!” Sarah shouted as she ran and took the bat.
Samora adjusted the knob again and shot her a slow knuckle ball. Sarah missed, but with a little practice she finally hit a grounder that bounced off the left wall and into the “outfield.”
We played for another five minutes, but it was getting late and we still had two exhibits to see. We gathered at the control panel and watched as the Hall of Records rose into view. This time there were shelves of books and drawers full of old newspapers. There were catalogs and maps and photographs hanging on the walls and documents and records and letters behind glass frames. We found several photos of Chang and Dr. Losotu and pictures of the miners in the early days of Boomtown and the picture of President William H. Taft posing with the Hopontops and photos of other famous Boomtownians throughout the years.
Personally, I could have stayed there forever thumbing through the old books (one of my passions) or listening to some of the old music from the record collection or reading the earliest copies of the
Stickville Times.
But the children got bored quickly and kept asking Janice and me to hurry up. They wanted to pull the unmarked knob, the one hiding the big surprise.
“Okay, okay,” I said, finally giving in. “Go ahead. I'll come back here on my own some other day.” We stood to the side as I watched with some regret the Hall of Records disappear.
Samora said, “By now you must have discovered my great-grandfather's love for children. Kids know how to play and invent and dream big dreams. He got some of his best ideas from children, so he wanted to give them a place where they could come and play, like the swing in the conservatory. And this,” she said, pulling the fourth and final activator with a flourish. “The
racetrack
!”
Side compartments in the four walls slid open. Inside were large canvas bags that began to inflate. In seconds, a soft, cushioned wall of air surrounded the perimeter. A short circular wall, also cushioned by air, rose up from the floor to form an enclosed center area with an opening at each end. Four cushioned cars, looking very much like marshmallows on wheels, rose into view. In two corners of the room, a narrow driveway with guardrails on each side slid into place.
“Welcome to the Boomtown Racetrack!” announced Samora with a wave of her hand. “Over here, Jonny, Sarah, Ruth. Come and pick out your car.”
They ran across the floor and over to the four parked cars. Each one was marked with a number and had a steering wheel, an accelerator handle and brakes, and a soft helmet sitting on the seat. They hopped in, put on their helmets and seat belts, and waited impatiently for Samora to tell them what to do.
“These cars are driven by steam power,” she explained. “Each has a tank with pressurized steam. Squeeze the handle on the steering wheel to make the car go forward. The harder you squeeze, the faster you go, but only up to the speed limit. Release the handle and use the brake to stop. You can only drive in one direction, beginning at the starting line. You have to go ten laps to win, but the cars will only go about seven laps on one tank of steam. That's what the two stations in the corner are for.”
Samora gestured and said, “You'll start to feel your car slow down. That's when you want to pull into the station. Drive in the open end, and the station will automatically capture your car and bring you to a stop. A steam hose is guided through a slot underneath each car, and a fresh load of steam will be injected into your tank. It's up to you to decide when to recharge your carâin the fifth, sixth, or even seventh lap.
“But don't wait too long! You'll run out of steam short of the station. If that happens, you have to move the car using the bicycle pedals down there on the front axle. You don't want to have to do that!”
Jonny's mind was racing. “Do you have to wait for a full chargeâor can you take off before it's full?”
“Good question. You can take off anytime you want. Just squeeze the handle. Winning a race depends on making good guesses and perfect timing. It's not about how fast you go, but how
smart
you go.”
We pushed the cars over to the starting line. Samora took Holly into her arms and handed me the starter's flag and Janice the checkered flag.
I raised the green flag and shouted, “On your mark, get set . . . GO!”
With a wave and a shout, they were off. Jonny took an early lead, but Ruth was a close second. They circled the track, once, twice, three times. Jonny and Ruth were neck and neck. Sarah was way behind, but she decided to pull over after only five laps and recharge her car. Ruth pulled over after six. Jonny waited too long, and his car ran out of steam at the beginning of the seventh lap. He was forced to pedal his car into the station. By then, Sarah was way out in front with a freshly charged tank. She easily took the checkered flag.
“I won! I won! I won!” she yelled, jumping up and down. Then she stopped. “What did I win?”
“As the winner of the first race of the day, you've won a mini race car of your very own.” Samora went over to one of the walls and opened a cabinet. “Here it is. A yellow one to match your hair.”
“Look, Dad! I won a little toy car! How does it work?”
Samora said, “You see the hole here at the back? That's where you insert this little air valve. Hook it to a bicycle pump and you can recharge the small air tank inside the car. Flip this switch and the car will race across the room or down the sidewalk. Another one of my great-grandfather's favorite inventions.”
“That's really swell! Thanks!”
They pushed the cars into the stations and recharged their tanks. Then they lined up again. Jonny learned his lesson from the first race and won the second. Ruth took the third. Sarah won the fourth. By then it was almost 5 p.m. and we had to get home. I was preaching in the morning and we had to get Holly fed and put to bed and the children ready for the next day.
“We
really
have to go. Kids, make sure you thank Samora for everything.”
They each hugged her and she promised them as we left, “Come back to the museum anytime during the week after schoolâas long as your homework is done. The kids in Boomtown have races almost every night of the week.”
“Thank you, we will!”
Jonny was interested in the music classes, and we promised to talk to Samora's sister that week to get a schedule. I wanted to come back as soon as I could to get a closer look at the Hall of Records. Janice was interested in volunteering in the conservatory. All of us were exhausted, but excited from our visit.
Samora led us to the door and waved as we walked down the sidewalk and into the dark, snowy night. The children chattered happily all the way home, and we all agreed we'd never had so much fun in one day in our entire lives.
Of course, until then, we'd never been to the Spring Fever Festival.
T
he winters in upper eastern Washington can be long and severe. Nestled up against the North Cascade mountain range in the Okanogan territory and only eighty miles from the border of Canada, Boomtown typically experiences winter temperatures averaging thirty degrees or below. The frigid winds blowing down from the mountains can drift the snow as high as five feet deep. Snow begins to fall in late October and lingers until the last freeze in March or sometimes early April. A person trapped indoors for five months can develop a terminal case of cabin craziness. That's why the folks in Boomtown look forward to the Spring Fever Festival like a six-year-old waits for his birthday cake.
