Bloomington High School - Aepix Yearbook (Bloomington, IL)

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anatomy of engines because he enjoyed doing so. It was a delight to work out their intricacies, fascinating to figure out new ways of using them , and thrilling to work out new wrinkles in their construction. Tonight, however, these things failed to hold J oe's attention. A pair of blue eyes were continually popping up before his mind's eye and a head of dark bobbed hair kept coming between his eyes and the blue print. Joe walked down town to indulge in his second hobby: a movie. A few minutes in the theater proved that not even the picture could compete with a pretty girl in a young man's mind. Joe did the only thing left to do, he went home to bed. A week later, Joe again saw the girl. She was walking down the street, and the boy speeded to the first parking space to await her arrival. After awhile she came by-but she didn 't smile when she saw Joe. She did something better, she dropped her handkerchief. Perhaps it was an accident, perhaps it was the subconscious mind , and then again she may have dropped it intentionally. At any rate it was done, and J oe 's duty-or opportunity was clear. He restored the tiny piece of cloth to its owner and received a smile as his reward. Then, as they were about to part, each stopped by common consent, for what on earth can sep- arate a boy and girl who wish to become acquainted? In a remarkably short space of time they knew each other 's name, also that they were going to meet again. Very immoral for such early confidcnces, probably, but, on the whole agreeable as either of the principals would undoubtedly testify. The girl was Crilotte Franklin 5 she was white, unmarried and twenty. She had just finished high school, and she knew Joe was a nice young fellow , a rather startling statement to make considering that she had known the nice young fellow for only half an hour. . . . and I know we're going to be great friends, said the girl. Goodbye Joe went back to his cab. He was sure of two things: that he now knew the most wonderful girl in the world Cpeculiar how many of these specimens we havej , and that he was going to do something that would make him worthy of being Crilotte's friend. He was perfectly sure of his first idea-about the girl- but his second was rather vague. Doing worthy things is a beautiful thought, out where were the worthy things to do? He knew automobiles from license plate to dashboard, but that was all. His other accomplishments were mediocre or not in demand. He thought of his home-made engine in which the pistons shot back by recoil thereby giving twice as much speed for the same amount of gas. It might not work in actual practice, and he was leery of patents anyway. Any- thing else he might undertake would cost money, a commodity with which he was not on very intimate terms. Joe forgot that topic in order to think of one more agreeable: a pair of bluer than blue eyes that were like morning glories on a misty day, a trim little body that you knew could dance forever without getting weary, and a soft voice that a husband could listen to forever without getting riled. Joe breathed a long, blissful breath, the kind a small boy breathes when taking the last bite of a cake, or a fat man takes when sitting down after a mile hike. Many evenings after that Joe devoted his time not to his engines but to Crilotte, another example of the superiority of flesh over mental. They motored, strolled and movied together, and had a specialist glanced at their faces on these occasions, he would undoubtedly have diagnosed the case as incurable. I wish I could ask you to marry me, Lottie, said Joe one evening, but as the condemned convict quaintly said when a friend offered him a cough drop, 'What's the use?' Why don't you ask me, Joe? I don it promise a thing, but you might be surprised. ' ' 25 aa ....... .---s...J I '

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A P 1- 111 ,I , I .Y IMI up ,E , 11gi,g j.p..YQ1l:4H , Em: eiifji -H I II I I 55 V 1 Qlirmlutte ant the QEngme 5 1 This history begins by saying that if J-oe Martin began to think, not that Joe had previously been unable to think, but thinking was not part of the duties of a i New Oregon cab-driver, so as Joe would Q! aptly put it: Why think? He was i thinking about a girl he had just seen, I a pretty girl who had smiled- at him. 9, Many girls had smiled at Joe. With his six feet of exuberant young manhood and , his light curly hair, he was sufficient cause E3 for another glance from any member of l l the weaker sex, be she Mrs. J. Pierpont l V Ford or ,Sadie Katt who sold tickets at i , the Cinema Palace. N ot that Joe was averse to the charms 1 of the ladies. Far from it. To put it in i his own vernacular: 4'He got a kick outa them, and as the majority of his femi- 3 nine friends were ladies of the chorus, gf 7 his words were perhaps not ill-chosen. lil PAUL RHYHER The girl about whom he was thinking was tif ' not only pretty, but she had brains. A jiri very rare combination it is true, yet very obvious as one glance clearly proved. ll it She was dark, Joe remembered, and had very nice teeth, and she had smiled- ill smiled radiantly, nay more, divinely. Now, when such a prosaic being as a New it 5 Oregon cab-driver thinks about such things as these, one can very safely prophesy 51 lg immediate action. l 1 i 4 I i . v ilg 'z tl Joe Martin was a taxi-driver because he wanted to be. And he Wanted to be l because the sound of the working engine was music to his ears, the feel of the JT wheel in his hands was a joy, and the sensation of swiftly moving cords under him made a warm place in his heart. He was happy when he was tinkering with pg obstinate engines, and he dreamed engines, lived engines, they were his idols. l Now, for the first time in a great while, something else held iirst place in his heart. I This something was a girl. A mere girl 5 a pretty girl, it is true, but a girl never- theless. Joe didn't quite understand it. Girls were useful in their way, and ornamental, too, but they were not in a class with engines, throbbing, pulsing, im! powerful engines that kept the business of the world moving and the wheels of ,FE progress turning. Strange, very strange. ! Joe drove his car to the station, and turned it over to the night driver. Then , he walked towards his boarding house, his mind still full of the girl. I wonder who she can be? he said to himself. If I see her again, I'll I find out. Gee, I never thought a jane could moon-eye me like this. I At his rooming house, the boy ate his supper, then Went to his room Where he fished out some thumb-worn blue prints of gasoline engines which he spread out 2 ii and poured over, a sparkle in his eye and a half smile on his lips. He wasn't I. ij studying to better himself, he 'd have laughed at the idea. He was learning the 5, 24 lili Gfzgjr'-'srfg' fm'-X-A'L,T . ii.f'i if 1 .t -if 6. .9

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' Tjj-.-1-ff. 1- W. .. A Z , M , Q :Rv X :E .nciuvryc ,wh Quai! ,Eddy ..,..,..t,,. , ., -..-n,....,.,w.,,-.- mv... . ,N ,. Joe grinned. You might accept me if I inquired concerning your sentiments on the ques- tion, and so I shan't do so until I get enough filthy lucre to keep both of us from living as cheaply as one. Oh, I'm not so sure, Joie boy, they make fun of this 'love in a cottage' theory, but I'd just as soon try it. 4'Let's wait awhile, Lottie, I'm sure something will turn up. Well, I must be going. I think I'll take my reward now so come here and . . . ' ' But never mind that, you see how things stood. One morning Joe read the headlines advertising the New Oregon auto race, the prize for the winner to be twenty thousand dollars, nobody barred who could drive ninety miles per hour in the tests. Joe's eyes gleamed as he thought of the iiying wheels. the great crowd, and the slim bodies of the roaring cars. Then he smiled ruefully, the races were not for him who had no money nor backing. If someone would finance him he 'd try out his engine, he knew it would work, but -oh, what was the use? That evening when he went to see Crilotte, she met him at the gate, her eyes bright and her manner eager. Oh, Joe. You're going to enter, aren't you? You're such a wonderful driver. I know you'll win. Isn't it wonderful J! ' Joe smiled slowly. The best driver in the world couldn't win with an inferior car, Lottie, and no one would finance me with a good one, not knowing anything about me. H The girl's face clouded. It's too bad, Joe. How much does a car cost? About fifteen times as much as I've got, and I 've got two hundred dollars. Not a chance, Lottie, not a chance. t'XVell, how about your engine, persisted the girl. HOouldn't you buy a cheap body and put your engine in it?l' Joe looked up suddenly. 'tPerhaps therels something in that. Let 's see. Could we do it? I could buy a second-hand car and procure parts for the weak points. Gee, Lottie, I be- lieve we can do it. HOf course we can. Oh, Joe, if we'd only win. Have you enough money? Ilve get a hundred dollars myself, and if you donlt take it, I'll shoot you on sight. Far into the night the boy and girl discussed their great project , its superior qualities and its weaknesses. Sometimes they doubted, again they despaired, but their determination was strong and their hopes ran high. ' The next day Joe hunted for a second-hand racer. After much searching, he found one that he thought might be resurrected. It was cheap-only a hundred dollars-but its lines were beautiful and its constitution strong. True, its engine was as useless as coal at the equator, and it was minus tires, tank, brakes and steering wheel, but, on the whole, Joe considered himself lucky. It would answer his purpose very nicely and he 'd still have enough money to put it in shape. The race was scheduled to start in a month, consequently, Joe was obliged to work every evening far into the night. He installed his precious engine, bought and attached tank, steering wheel, brakes and rear axle , ground valves, straight- ened wheels, and greased everything that looked suspicious. He painted, var- nished, waxed, bored, riveted, nailed and hammered with indomitable zeal and each morning at two as he crawled into his bed, dead tired, he felt that he had accomplished something towards the realization of his hopes. Sometimes Orilotte helped him. She donned overalls, tied a bandanna about her head, and dived into the work like the good little sport she was. She pumped 26