Wooden Boats by Michael Ruhlman

Author:Michael Ruhlman
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Penguin Group US
Published: 2010-02-28T16:00:00+00:00

At one-thirty Ross hops into the “Pepe’s” pickup. When it doesn’t start, he hops out, finds a metal pole, opens the hood, and, sliding the pole deep into the truck’s innards, gives the starter motor several firm thunks, then tosses the pole into the back of the truck, hops back in, and revs the diesel engine. He hasn’t had time to fix the starter, which has bad brushes, but he’s content with the current method of ignition, in conjunction with the light switch dangling to the right of the steering wheel connected to the solenoid, and the toggle switch that turns on the glow plugs; still another electrical cord, with a male end, hangs out of the front grille, attached to a block heater that lets him start the engine even after the most frigid nights. He might have gotten rid of this old truck by now if that diesel engine weren’t so efficient.

The truck is like his toolbox; in fact, they’re both versions of the same thing: Ross himself. On the seat beside him are an old shirt and a socket set. A bolt of steel cable is tipped over on the floor on the passenger side, along with a coffee can attached to a pie tin (a bird feeder made years ago by Ross and Lyle for Jane, Ross’s mom, who lives now in Vineyard Haven; she wants it fixed). Duct tape holds the glove compartment closed. On the dash are two face masks (useful when sanding lead paint off a hull), a ripsaw, a broken wooden toy gun, and a roll-up tape measure.

Ross backs out of the gravel lot and heads up State Road toward the old Ag Hall fairgrounds, stopping to pick up a cup of mushroom-barley soup and a multigrain roll from the Black Dog Restaurant. He rolls past Alley’s General Store, where one can buy a flannel shirt, a quart of milk, and a mop and rent a video—a real general store, with unfinished hardwood floors—past the West Tisbury Congregational Church, a classical, white-sided structure with a tall steeple, a green lawn, and a white picket fence at the corner of Music Street, and turns right, into the old fairgrounds. About a hundred grassy yards down, Brad Ives, Ted Okie, and Myles Thurlow are deconstructing part of a 150-foot-long open structure that used to shelter the stalls for the livestock at the county fair every August. “Oh, look at that,” Ross says when he’s close enough to see what’s been removed so far. “Some nice plywood. Looks like five-eighths. I like that a lot.” There is now a new Agricultural Hall and fairgrounds, so this structure is no longer used. G&B will scavenge some ply, good 28-foot trusses, and electrical wire.

A light, gusty rain has begun, and Brad, Ted, and Myles look cold and wet. Ross finishes his soup in the truck and climbs onto the roof, attacking the shingles and nails, which fall in a shower into the yard’s pickup; everyone else moves faster to keep up.

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