Life Could Be A Dream

Virginia

1954

The copper penny sat motionless, awaiting the charge of the steam-driven beast. The Atlantic Coast Line was rushing down the tracks where Neil had laid the coin only minutes before. He felt the tension rising as the locomotive blew its horn repeatedly and got exponentially closer to its target. The horn screeched and growled like the scarlet macaw at the zoo. Backing away from the tracks, he sat down in the long grass of a nearby embankment, awaiting the impact.

As the train grew closer, the penny began to wobble from the vibrations, and he feared it would fall. The train, showing no compassion toward Neil and his penny’s efforts, continued its push forward and in seconds was within a few hundred yards. Eyes wide, the young man watched as the train conductor pulled the whistle cord and stared at him in slow motion. The noise was deafening, and the sheer power of the train shook his entire body. Finally, impact was imminent, and the giant train collided with the tiny penny then continued past as if nothing had happened whatsoever.

It took several minutes for the entire length of the train to pass before Neil could rush to check on his prize. He had to search in every direction until he found it. The coin that had once been round and 0.061 inches thick was now an oblong, completely flat, and virtually unrecognizable slab of copper. He couldn’t be happier with the outcome. Slipping his treasure in the right pocket of his slacks, Neil hopped back onto the center of the rail line and continued his trek with a smile on his face, whistling a song he’d made up on his journey. The sun shone down on him warmly. He was nineteen years old and had virtually every belonging that mattered to him in his pack over his shoulder. The world was wide open in front of him, full of adventure and freedom.

Neil McEwan had left his home outside of Greensboro, North Carolina, three days prior and had been following the train tracks through the eastern portion of the state and on into the mountains of Central Virginia. Greensboro College, where he was a student, had just become a co-ed facility that year, and Neil’s parents were adamant that he live at home with them, fearing he’d be far too distracted by girls should he reside on campus. Always an adventurous young man, Neil chose to attend this particular institution as part of the first freshmen class to include men. He’d just finished his first full year in college and was heading to spend his summer working away from home. Within only a few hours of finishing his last class, Neil had gone home, finished packing for the summer, said his good-byes, and been on his way. He felt completely free and in absolute control of his destiny. His goal for the summer was to work outdoors and save enough money to be prepared for the fall. His map was the open road and the train tracks heading north. His path weaved in and out of the newly established Shenandoah National Park and left him in constant awe of the natural beauty that surrounded him. After three days of walking by day and camping at night, he knew he couldn’t be more than another day’s hike from his destination.

Neil reached deep in his pocket and felt the smooth face of the flattened penny. He could hear traffic in the distance and broke from the tracks to cut through the woods and reach the main road. It was a short trek made shorter by his decision to run across the open expanse leading to the tree line. Parting the branches to exit the woods, he looked to his right and saw a long, straight two-lane road with no buildings. To his left he could see a few cars and what appeared to be a gas station within a few miles. He stretched his arms high in the air, checked to make sure his pack was in place, and stepped out onto the hot, cracked asphalt. Thoughts of an ice-cold soda began to fill his mind, and he steered himself almost instinctively toward the far-off service station.

It was hot that day—hotter than it had been since he’d started on his trip. He could see the heat waves coming off the surface of the road but didn’t take his eyes off the gas station. It was as if it might disappear like a mirage if he dared to look away. Sweat fell in beads down his forehead and into his eyes. Cars passed every few minutes, and the breezes as they went by were wonderful.

“Oh life could be a dream…” Another car coming from behind him had the radio playing loudly, and Neil heard a popular tune he liked. He smiled to himself as the car came closer and the music grew louder. “If you would tell me I’m the only one that you love…” Neil realized the car was slowing as it approached him. He turned around and saw a shiny blue convertible with two young men and two young women in it.

“Neil!” the blond-haired girl shouted. “It’s him. I told you guys!”

Neil wiped the sweat from his eyes and blinked several times. He recognized the girl. He hadn’t seen her since he was fifteen. “Sandy?” he exclaimed. “Sandy Bartlett? Is that really you?”

Before the car came to a stop, she jumped from her seat and over the door. Neil fell backward several steps as she threw her arms around him in a tight embrace. Releasing him, she took a step back and looked him up and down.

Feeling awkward, Neil said, “So, you got my letter, then?”

Sandy launched herself at him for a second round of hugs. “Yes! I can’t believe we ran into you here. Did you walk all the way from Greenville or Greensburg or whatever town you’re from? Is that all you brought with you? Oh my goodness, are you exhausted? Have you eaten yet?” The questions came in rapid-fire succession.

“Um, it’s Greensboro, and—”

“Oh golly, come here and meet my friends!” She grabbed him by the hand and started pulling him toward the convertible, where her three companions were waiting. Waving her hand counterclockwise from the driver across to the backseat, she made quick introductions. “Neil, meet Ron, Cathy, and Sammy.”

“Ace,” Ron, the driver chimed in. “Everyone calls me Ace.”

Neil resisted the urge to roll his eyes. “Nice to meet you guys. Are you all headed up to High Vista?”

“Sure are!” Sandy chirped. “Come on and jump in.” She climbed into the middle of the front seat and left a space for Neil. His trip had just become much easier.

Wham! The car door slammed shut, and Ace dropped his foot, gunning the gas and forcing all eight cylinders of the 1947 Ford Super Deluxe to burst forward almost instantaneously. The service station that had been so far away only moments before was growing exponentially closer.

“So, you kids know each other from High Vista?” Ace asked without taking his eyes from the road.

Neil cleared his throat. “Yep. We met up there about four or five years ago. Spent the whole summer getting into trouble, actually.”Sandy was wearing an ear-to-ear grin. “How about you guys?” Neil asked. “Ever been up there?”

Sam—or Sammy, as people called him, though he didn’t like it—responded, “No. Sandy talked us all into it. But it sounds great.”

Sandy leaned closer to Neil, which, in spite of the cool breeze coming over the windshield, made his temperature rise several degrees. “We all go to school together,” she said with a smile.

Ace then hit the brakes and cut the wheel, skidding into the filling station and slamming the Ford to a perfect stop next to the pump. “Fill ’er up!” he shouted at no one in particular, and the group of five poured out of the car.

The sign above the building read “Oak Ridge Full Service.” While the building looked only minutes away from being condemned or simply falling down, the gas pumps were surprisingly shiny and new. Neil watched as an elderly man climbed out of his chair in the shade of a nearby tree and headed to provide the full service for them that was so clearly advertised. Another elderly man with a long beard and overalls sat guarding the dilapidated building’s screen door.

“That’s a fancy car,” the seated man grunted. Neil imagined he might be fused to the chair; it looked as if he hadn’t left it in some time.

“You betcha it is,” Ace responded, confidently tossing the door to the old building open. Neil held the door for the rest of the group and thought about that ice-cold soda that was sure to be waiting for him inside.

The man grunted and mumbled, “Must be one of Shifty’s kin then.” Both old men laughed until they started into a coughing fit that echoed throughout the station.

“There’s nothing here,” Cathy whined with a scowl on her face. Looking around at the empty shelves covered in dust, Neil realized in there would be no cold soda for him. Ace disappeared into the back of the store and came out with an exaggerated sigh.

“Bathroom’s free if you want it,” he said.

“Ew!” Cathy exclaimed.

“I think I’ll wait until we get to High Vista,” Sandy said.

“Yeah,” Sammy agreed. “Let’s get out of this place before we catch a disease or something.”

Full of bravado, Ace threw the screen door open with a bang, causing everyone to think he’d torn it from its hinges. “Don’t you guys have any sodas or snacks here?” he blurted at the old man who he’d almost hit with the door.

“Nope,” the man said. “But if we all had fancy cars like yours, I bet we could keep the place full.” The old man leaned forward in his chair and clearly exposed the shotgun that was resting at his side. Ace didn’t respond, but he didn’t back away either.

Sammy put his hand slowly but firmly on Ace’s shoulder and, looking at the old man, said, “Thank you for your time, sir. We’ll just pay for the gas and be going now.”

The man leaned back in his chair and chuckled to himself. “You do that.”

Ace stood locked in place for a long minute, then walked slowly to the car. He tossed a few coins at the man attending the gas pump and slammed the car door. The others were already seated. Gunning the engine, Ace left long skid marks behind him as they peeled away from the station. He stared at the road without expression while the others finally began to breathe.

Ron Slicer had been nicknamed Ace by his father, an avid golfer who received a great deal of grief about his unfortunate last name. When his father had taken him out on the golf course for the first time, Ron had sliced the ball so dramatically it landed on the green of the wrong hole, which prompted his father and the other men playing with them to begin calling him Ace, a term used for a hole in one. Ace loved his father dearly but hated golf. Following his father’s passing from an unexpected heart attack, Ace and his mother had moved to Charlottesville, Virginia, where he’d dealt with his loss by taking on a rough and aggressive personality. He was distant, aloof, and often confrontational, but those who were close to him knew it was mostly just a defense mechanism, and he was all heart underneath his rough exterior—deep, deep beneath the exterior.

“Who is Shifty?” Cathy asked from the backseat, thinking back to what the old men had said at the gas station.

“Oh, you don’t know this one?” Sandy said, twisting fully around in her seat. “Even Neil knows about ol’ Shifty.” She grabbed Neil’s hand and gave it a strong squeeze, and the ambient temperature again jumped up another notch or two.

“So,” Sandy began, “fifteen or twenty years ago, this guy, Shifty Winston—at least that’s what I think his name was…”

“Lou ‘Shifty’ Winston, actually,” Sammy offered.

“Yeah, that one.” Sandy smiled. “Well, Shifty went down to South America or Spain or something and stole a ton of gold from some church.”

“Seriously, Sandy?” Sammy interrupted. “If you’re going to tell the story then tell it right. Shifty stole a boatload of gold from a missionary group in Cuba about fifteen years ago and then disappeared with it.” Sandy leaned back onto the dashboard and pouted at being upstaged. Sammy went on, “No one had any idea where he went or if he were even alive until one day about a year later. A guy in Virginia Beach found this huge old boat abandoned along the Intracoastal Waterway, and when he pulled it out, he found a two-hundred-year-old Spanish gold coin wedged underneath one of the seats.”

Sammy paused for dramatic effect. All eyes were on him except for Ace’s. He hadn’t shifted his gaze since the gas station.

“And?” Cathy said with wide eyes, anxious to hear the rest of the story.

“Right. Well the authorities looked into it and figured out Shifty had taken this boat all the way up the Eastern Seaboard, from Cuba to Virginia, and then must’ve dumped it and taken the gold somewhere on land. They did this huge manhunt for over a year but found no sign of him anywhere, so they dropped the case. Then, a few years later, when no one was really even thinking about it anymore, some guys were working on building the Blue Ridge Parkway going through this area, and they came across seven more gold coins that matched the one from the boat.”

“So he’s around here?” Cathy asked.

Sammy sighed. “Well, they did another manhunt on a smaller scale, but no one ever found anything, and eventually everyone just gave up. But I believe he’s still around here somewhere, just guarding his treasure and waiting.”

The adrenaline that had been flooding Ace’s system was subsiding. He loosened his grip on the steering wheel and took a long, deep breath. “Back at that gas station,” he said in a serious tone, “in the bathroom, I saw a picture hanging on the wall, and the edge of it was turned up. Behind it there was the corner of a really old piece of paper, so I pulled it back and found a map of this area with a big X on it right near where we’re going.”

No one moved or breathed for a long moment. “I took it, and I’m pretty sure it shows the way to Shifty’s place. Hang on; here it is.” Ace reached deep into the pocket of his black leather jacket. Everyone stared in silence. Slowly he pulled his hand out and had something white and crumpled in his fist. Then Ace launched his arm toward Sammy and smacked him in the face with an empty pack of Lucky Strikes.

The group erupted in laughter. Ace was hysterical. “You don’t really believe all that Shifty Winston treasure crap, do you? I’ve been hearing those stories since I was a kid.”

Sammy tossed the empty pack of cigarettes back into the front seat. “Quit being such a jerk, Ace!”

“Whatever you say,” Ace responded while continuing to laugh.

Neil looked back and forth from Sandy to the road. He’d heard the Shifty tale when he was last at High Vista, and in spite of Ace’s criticism, he was still intrigued.

The group continued on, the wind across the open convertible keeping them cool as they moved into the mountains. The conversations about Shifty, High Vista, treasure, and the beauty of their surroundings kept them occupied over the next couple hours as they made their way up into the Shenandoah. The car was full of new and old acquaintances well on their way to becoming lifelong friends. The possibilities of the summer were endless, and the group couldn’t have been more aware of it.

They rode higher and higher along the empty roads, and then after hours of travel, they saw the sign. Beaten and worn from years of standing on its post, the wooden sign held its position with dignity and poise. Though they passed it in only a moment with Ace at the wheel, the entire group felt as if they moved in slow motion into their destiny. The sign, in its simplicity, greeted them with faded red letters: “Welcome to Camp High Vista.”