19200917 20:12:53

19200917 20:12:53

PV-S-7035

Thomas Naragansett watched the fire curl around the glowing logs in the pit and sighed in boredom. Around the fire, the mothers sat, some with infant children held close to their bodies, as they faced each other and spoke of their children's progress in school or news that they've heard about the horrific Wall Street Bombing. The other children seemed to be more captivated by the fire itself, and entertained themselves by holding sticks into the flame until they were glowing red so that they could swing it around in the air, or attempting to roast a marshmallow in the flames. All while this was happening, Thomas sat and silently spectated it all alone. He looked back towards the house, then turned away to look over to the garage and saw his father standing there with a few other men as they stood in a circle around a car within the interior. It was a 1920 Ford Model T Roadster. He figured that he had nothing better to do while he was there and decided to get up and approach the four men at the garage. When he was within a few feet of the car, his footstep landed upon a fallen tree branch which snapped under his weight; the sound caused one of the men to snap his head towards Thomas in surprise. The initial look of shock quickly changed to an earnest smile when he saw the child approaching and spoke out to him.
"Hey Tom, what's up? Fire too hot for ya?" The man who asked this was their next door neighbor, Chris Renault.
"Eh, too dull."
"Dull?" Chris blinked twice, then turned to call out to Thomas's father. "Stan, your kid thinks a fire pit is dull, you hear that? I ain't never heard a kid say that before. I didn't when I was his age."
"Yeah, maybe he just wants us to toss some gas on there or something, that'll light things up, right?"
The other men laughed in response, and Thomas grinned nervously and turned his gaze to the ground.
"Say, Stan, how about we put your theorem to the test, eh?"
"What's that, Chris?"
"What you said about the new locks on the Roadster here."
"Oh.. uh, hm. Yeah, y'know what, why not? C'mere, and take this." Stan gestured to his son to walk over to the side of the car while he walked to the front of the vehicle, where a metal tool was lying upon its side. Stan snapped the tool up into his hands and walked over to Thomas to hand it to him as they stood at the side of the car.
"All right, so here." Stan opened the door, reached inside to slide the lock down, then slammed the door shut. He pulled at the handle to ensure that the door was locked tightly closed. "Now, take that, and slide it down at the window there, side it down into the door, and reach for the lock handle. Once you feel it catch, you can pull up and open the door, just like that. Try it."
"Um, all right." Thomas cautiously guided the tool upwards with one hand grabbing under the other until just the tip of it hung beneath his dual handed grip. He felt the tension increase within his body as his father and the other men watched intently as he positioned the tool against the car door window. He placed the metallic edge against the side of the window and began to slide down, but had to correct himself a few times before the thin edge was wedged between the surface of the glass and the rubber liner which held the window in place. Thomas gently guided the tool to slide down into the car and then tried to pull upwards with it after sending it downward for a few lengths. When he pulled up, the sound of scraping came from an area above the handle.
"Just a bit more." Stan's words of assurance was coolly confident. "Get under the handle so that you can pull up on the mechanism. You'll feel it in your fingers when the tool has it in place."
Thomas silently nodded and resumed sending the tip of the tool further down into the inside of the car door, and felt resistance against his pushing within a few moments. He instinctively tilted the tool to compel the tip to slide further down at an angle, and straightened himself out once he had the freedom to continue the push for a few more inches. He slowly pulled up until he heard the tip click against something within the door. Thomas hesitated for a moment, then pulled the tool upward with a sharp draw. There was a different kind of click which came within the door as the tool traveled upward only a small distance. Stan reached over his son's shoulder to press the button on the door handle, and pulled at the door. It opened. Thomas smiled warmly as the other men cheered at his success.