Memories page 6

Gary Wilson will attend the University of Paris next year. He will leave in August. This will enable him to visit relatives and friends and to shop.

His ship, the Aurelia (student ship) leaves New York September 9. After nine days aboard, Gary will arrive in La Harve, France. A train from the University will pick up students and transport them to their destinations.

Gary wants to go to the French university to learn culinary arts. In other words, he wants to become a French Chef.

The tuition will cost Gary $3000 a year, which his parents will pay. Gary has to pay his won expenses while there.

The tuition fee pays everything, including living with a French family. Gary will received two foreign trips (one to Switzerland and one to London), tickets to operas and ballet, and will take student tours.

The University starts November 2. French will be taught the first six weeks so classes can be conducted in French. The spring vacation will last three weeks. The students may do anything they wish during this vacation.

This last issue of the Goldpan features three of the best Miner Machines that have been driven to school by Seniors this past year.

Larry Beardsley's 1963 two-door hardtop Plymouth Belvedere was featured March 24.

The Plymouth's mill boasts 318 cubic inches plus an AFB, plus an Isky cam, 505. The transmission is a three speed which features Hurst Linkage. The Plymouth rides on four Indy "500" mags with cheater slicks and traction bars in the rear.

Larry has had the car painted a Mustang green and plans to change his stock interior to a black tuck and roll. A Sun tack for a good look-see at the RPM situation, a vibra-sonic radio for listening pleasure, and seat belts for safety add distinction to the Plymouth. Other plans for the car include a four speed, ram-charger scoop, and a 4:56 positraction rear end.

Larry paid $2700 for the Plymouth andnow has approximately $330 in the car. After the time and money put into thecar, Larry now makes the statement, "Plymouth's eat Fords."

Keith Baker's screaming 1955 Chevy is a 2-door sedan. The Chevy mill is a bored 283 to a 301. The mill features 3-2s, Rochester large jets, Duntough (my husband thinks Dunkov) cam, forged true racing pistons, and an Ediedbrock manifold. A four speed Munci box is essential for the hot Chevy.

The Chevy body is painted a maroon red and the interior is in black tuck and roll naugahyde.

Other knowledgeable facts on the Chevy are four mag (SPD specials), $1300 invested in the car, $800 original price when Keith bought it, and three tranies and four rear ends the Chevy (or Keith) has gone through.

Keith said he might want to race the car when he gets four new tires (as if he hasn't started already).

Duane Hintze's '33 Dodge five-window coupe has a 49 Chrysler (6) mill which features a full race cam and two ones. The three inch dropped front axle, and rear end are Chrysler products all the way.

The interior of the Dodge is tuck and roll red and white naugahyde. An AM-FM radio and a racing steering wheel distinguish the interior.

If you would like to buy this machine, don't even try; Duane wouldn't sell his prize for anything.

Thanks for all the work. Great job. Sorry we did not get time to visit. The time went so fast and I could have spent hours with everyone.

Most of us spent some of our formative hours at the Del Oro. I remember sitting through some of those Saturday matinees twice. I got a lot out of my quarter. Twenty cents for the double feature and a nickel for the popcorn. At any rate I'm sending along a memory.

Jerry

The Magic Eight Ball

It wasn’t like school at the Del Oro. No seating charts. You could sit next to whoever you wanted at a Saturday matinee. Maybe it was a little like school, because we tended to gather in enclaves loosely denoted by grade level. Fifth through eighth separated like the lunch hour bleachers at J.S. Hennessey Field.

Most of us got there early to make a day of it, sharing gossip and goofing off until the lights dimmed or the usher issued a serious warning. I think it was Kathy Jenkins that smuggled a magic eight ball into the cheap seats. It was one of those black balls that are supposed to tell fortunes. Ask a question, shake the ball and get a response.

Soon there were fifteen or twenty of us passing the ball around asking questions more for our audience than ourselves. Silly or smart ass questions designed to get a good laugh. Does A love B? Is C jealous? Will D get even? Will E ever change his underwear? We’d pretty much exhausted the vast potential of our grade school imaginations when the lights dimmed. Our game was over and whatever real concerns we might have had about ourselves were left to other days.

And yet, at some point during the main feature that magic eight ball dropped to the floor. It rolled aisle by aisle, in the dark, spilling out all the “maybes”, “could bes”, “no ways”, “most definitelys” and “who knows” of our collective futures.