I used to live in a house in the industrial section of Portland. Next-door, was what looked to be a junk yard but was actually a defunct, portable roller coaster factory.
The old man, who said he was the inventor of the first portable roller coaster, lived in a little travel trailer on the property. In the back, there was a younger guy. I’m not sure what the younger guy was living in.
Once, the old man invited me over for coffee. We talked about roller coasters and then started talking about the younger man in the back. I wasn’t clear on the relationship between the two, but I think the older man was married to the younger man’s mother, at one time.
The old man didn’t seem to like the younger guy and was possibly a little afraid of him. Apparently, the younger guy was okay some of the time but other times he would get crazy. The old man told me, “When you hear howling, better lock your doors.â€?
I kept a friendly coolness to the younger guy. When he would come over to use my phone, I would let him, but I would make him use it outside. Once he asked to come in; I told him that I don’t let people into my house.
After awhile, the old man moved away, or died, but the younger guy remained.
One day I was out working in my garden, when a bus pulls up and lets off the younger man and a woman. The younger man talked to me for a bit and then he and the woman went though the gates to his place.
About 10 minutes later, he comes running out and says to me, “Which way did she go?�
