By David Gertsch
It’s funny how small happenings can link together to become a chain. As a young boy, and into high school age, I had a paper route. It was about three miles long, one way, on the Tracyton Road to Silverdale. The road was set back from the beach, where most of my customers lived, about 150–200 yards. This made for a lot of walking once a month to collect, at first, the dollar, and then later, $1.25 fee for the paper. But one customer was a lot further up the road, about three-eights of a mile, just south of where Olympic High School is now. His name was Tom and he delighted in making me miserable. His tactic was to ask me if I had change for a $100 bill. Of course I didn’t, having an average of 80 customers at $1 a month, and a $40 charge from the paper company facing me in about a week. This would have caused me to come back a second trip.
So I set a goal for myself: to knock on his door with at least $99 in my pocket. This took several months, as I remember. But the day came. I wish I could recreate the expression on his face when I showed him $99. I don’t have to tell you that I never saw him with a $100 bill, and I’m not sure he ever had one–one he could call his own that is. I continued the practice for maybe two or three years just as insurance.
In the meantime, I noticed a cute car parked in the barnyard and it was, as we said in those days, really tricked out.
It was a ‘34 Ford 2-door sedan with a custom maroon paint job, louvered hood, white wall double eagle tires, very expensive rolled & pleated upholstery, Columbia two-speed rear end, and a 1951 Mercury motor that was new from the factory.
I didn’t learn until much later Tom’s daughter had been married to a serviceman. While they were stationed in San Diego, he and a buddy built this “Hot Rod” costing $1,500.00, a lot of money in 1950-51.
Tom’s son-in-law bought out his buddy and became the sole owner of the car. He then went to Korea and died for his country. That left the daughter of Tom a widow with two small kids. She drove the car home to Tracyton from San Diego and parked it because it was not the typical family car.
On one of my monthly collection stops I asked about the car. It was for sale–$450, way out of my budget.
A few months went by and the price dropped occasionally, until one day Tom said his daughter had just left and the car was now $100 to the first one with the money. My dad helped me tow it home where, for the first time, the car was not back in the woods, but out in public. People came from miles around to see it. It got a wash job every day for about a month.
I was still 14-years-old, so I could only drive around in the pasture. After the newness wore off, maybe a year, I realized it wasn’t the most practical car for me. I sold it for $1400.00. A nice nest egg in those days. It was later given away as part of a promotion by Kahn’s Men Store in Bremerton.
