THE WANDERERS #77 STRANGE TIMES IN PARADISE

We join our wandering friends now, as they're taking a break from retirement, to actually have a vacation. Since money was a little bit tight, Carl suggested that they visit his Uncle Dexter, who lived in Paradise, California.

Paradise is located in northern California, about 80 miles due north of Sacramento. At least, that's what Emma found out by looking it up in her collection of Auto Club maps. She was still curious: "Tell me about this town of Paradise. I've never been there with you."

Carl spit a brown wad out of the window of The Whale, and replied, "It's a small town in the foothills, real close to Chico. Chico is a college town, and a lot of the people who live in Paradise teach at the college, or are retired. It ain't big ... maybe 20 or 25,000 people. There's a lot of pine trees, and nice hills. It's right around 3,000 feet altitude.

"You can go fishing, do some off-roading on really neat fire roads, maybe run around in a boat. There's a good sized lake real close called Oroville. Heck, even if there was nothing to do, the place is easy on the eyes. Basically, I don't want to do much of anything for a few weeks, and Uncle Dexter has a big place up there high on a hill with a great view."

Emma was curious. "Tell me about Uncle Dexter. I don't know anything about him."

"Anyways, he's a college professor. He teaches folk dancing, shoe repair, art appreciation and black history."

Emma raised the other eyebrow. "Isn't that an odd collection of subjects to teach?"

"Naw. He used to teach some strange stuff before he settled into these four specialties. Not too long ago he used to instruct in Gregorian chants, blimp construction, harmonica theory, and turbo-diesel trouble-shooting. Since his wife died about 15 years ago in a dog sled accident, he's been pretty much a loner."

"Yeah. She used to compete in the Iditarod in the Senior Class, and one year, she got eaten by a crazed polar bear. Uncle Dexter never re-married, and even sold all his bear-skin rugs."

***

Carl and Emma drove the last few hundred miles across the vast open high desert of Nevada, heading west on Interstate 80. Eventually, the brown of the desert turned into small hills spotted with green vegetation. This turned into real hills and lots of greenery, and soon they were driving though Grass Valley, Marysville, Uba City and Oroville.

Eventually, they entered the city limits of Paradise, wound their way through town, and found the narrow dirt road leading up to Uncle Dexter's house in the hills.

Uncle Dexter came out of the house on a unicycle, juggling three chain saws. Luckily, none of them were running. Carl and Uncle Dexter hugged warmly, as Emma just stared, her jaw hanging. Uncle Dexter looked exactly like a movie-typecast mad professor. He had a bald head with thick tufts of hair on the side, and his glass were extremely thick and he wore them half way down his nose.

"So, this must be the little lady I've never met, Carl? Come over here and give me a hug, dear, and try not to step on those chain saws."

Carl was curious. "Uncle Dexter, what gives with those chain saws and the unicycle? That's a bit strange, even for you."

"Oh that? Well, I'm going to be teaching a course in History and Appreciation of the Circus this fall, and I figured I'd better learn some of the basic skills. I've got the unicycle-juggling thing down pretty good, but haven't worked up the nerve to try it with the chain saws running yet."

Uncle Dexter showed them around the big A-frame log house. Emma was impressed by the huge glass windows that gave them a spectacular view of the valley spreading out below.

Carl was mightily impressed when Uncle Dexter showed him the mammoth ten car garage/barn built out behind the house. When the electric door was raised, Carl sucked in his breath. Sitting there were a half-dozen of the most beautiful Jeep CJ-5s he had ever seen. All of them were sparkling clean and gleaming in the glow of a bank of fluorescent lights.

"Wow, Uncle Dexter! I knew you liked Jeeps, but I had no idea you had a collection like this!"

"Well, when Rosie died - that's my ex-wife - I collected a hefty piece of insurance money. I didn't want to waste it on anything stupid, so after I spent half of it on a UFO research project, I built this shop and bought all the Jeeps from a collector."

Carl strolled around the CJs and drooled. "These are beautiful! I betcha they run as good as they look, right?"

Uncle Dexter looked a little bit sheepish. "Not exactly. As you know, I teach a class in turbo-diesel trouble-shooting at the university. Well, all of these CJs have different turbo-diesel engines under the hood. That red Jeep, for example, has an engine from a Peugeot station wagon. You see, I bring the students up here for the class, and they have to trouble-shoot all the Jeeps for turbo-diesel problems. The real problem is that I've dialed in so many hidden problems, that none of them run at all. In fact, the first student to get one of them running will get an "A" and a scholarship!"

Carl's jaw hung slackly. "So none of these run? Well, how do you get around?" Uncle Dexter pointed to a bizarre machine over in the corner. "I use that street-legal snowmobile over there."

"But what about when there's no snow?"

"Oh, I use it all the time. Since it has one of the old stock Jeep CJ engines under the cowling, I was able to get license plates for it at the local DMV."

Carl was visibly stunned and Emma just shook her head. So this was the eccentric Uncle Dexter!

***

Actually, Emma found her vacation time at Uncle Dexter's place delightful. She spent most of her time reading romance novels on the sun deck and taking leisurely hikes through the woods.

Meanwhile, Carl and Uncle Dexter decided to go fishing every day, since the weather was utterly perfect. Carl insisted that they drive The Whale to nearby Lake Oroville, since he was more than reluctant to pack double on the snowmobile.

On the first trip out to go fishing, Uncle Dexter, ever the trouble-shooting expert, pointed out that the exhaust on The Whale was smoking heavily. "Yeah, I know. I've got a couple of leaking valve guides and I've been putting off yanking the heads and doing the work. I just keep an eye on the oil level, and I'll get to fixing it when I get the time."

Uncle Dexter waved his forefinger in the air. "I better warn you about the police around here. They've been issuing real expensive tickets to cars that are smoking. You better be careful, young fellow."

Carl smiled. "Now don't you go worrying about that, Uncle Dexter. I got that all covered, just in case."

The day of fishing went great, and they both hit their limit in two hours, then caught and released another half-dozen fish each. Carl fired up The Whale and they headed for the cabin, drooling over the thought of some grilled trout for supper.

Just then, red lights flashed in Carl's rear view mirror, and he let out a groan. "You were right, Uncle Dexter. Looks like the smoky patrol is out in force."

A tall officer ambled up, ticket-book in hand. Carl rolled the window down. "Hi there, officer. Beautiful day. What can I do for you?"

"Did you know that your Suburban is smoking excessively out of the exhaust, sir?"

"Oh, that? Well, you see officer. I ran out of gas a few miles back, and I had to dump some motorcycle pre-mix gas in the tank. And as you know, two-stroke motorcycles require oil mixed in with the gas, so that would explain the smoke you see. Just as soon as I get to a station, and fill the tank, it should get back to normal."

"I see. Then I'll be on my way. Have a nice day, sir."

Uncle Dexter was impressed. "Hey, pretty slick, sonny. You talked your way right out of that one!"

"It was no big deal. After all, what's he gonna say when he see's a pair of trail bikes on the bumper racks? Yessir, old Carl just out-slicked one of California's finest!"

That evening, they had a great meal, and settled down for a few drinks afterward. Possibly a few too many for Uncle Dexter, as he was ready to fire up the chain saws and try some juggling. Luckily, Emma was able to talk him out of it.

The days flew by, with Carl and Uncle Dexter spending the days exploring Lake Oroville and catching fish, while Emma wallowed in pure relaxation.

On the last day, as Carl and Uncle Dexter drove The Whale back toward his home, the cooler full of tasty fish, the rear view mirror was once again filled with red flashing lights.

A short officer stepped out and walked over to the window. Carl noticed that it was a different officer than the one who had stopped him a few weeks earlier. He rolled the window down. "Hi there, officer. Beautiful day, isn't it? What can I do for you?"

"Are you aware that your Suburban is smoking heavily, sir?"

"Oh, that? Well, ya see, I ran out of gas and had to put some motorcycle pre-mix gas in the tank, and ..."

The officer butted in. "And since there's oil in the gas, that would explain the smoking, right?"

"Uhhh, right."

"And you're going to go right from here to a gas station and fill your tank up, and the smoking will go right away, right?"

"Duhhh, yes. You bet."

"Did it ever occur to you, sir, that you told the exact same story to my brother about two weeks ago? My brother, the tall highway patrolman?"

"Ahhh, well ... there's a possibility that there might be some sort of confusion here, and ... uhhh ..."

"Perhaps, sir, I can clear up that confusion. May I see your license and registration, please? I think there just might be a ticket in your future."

***

As Carl and Emma drove away from Paradise a week later, Emma sighed and settled back in her seat. "Gosh, that was a great vacation. I feel like a new person. And it didn't cost us a dime! Isn't that wonderful. Carl? Carl? Why are you gripping that steering wheel so hard?"