Jettisoned Melons- Digital Collage 5" x 5"

Grand Dad's roving roadside fruit stand covered a pretty wide stretch of land from as far south as Nebraska all the way up to just outside of Cheyenne in Wyoming. We never understood why he decided to set down in some of the remotest parts of the the country, but he insisted it was the key to his success—success being a relative term among our mobile home dwelling milieu. Still, it remained a mystery how he ever earned enough to cover the cost of fuel for that old bomber, let alone the regular required maintenence.

We all knew that Grand Dad skirted the law. Agents from the USDA hounded the old man, trying to keep him out of states that had outlawed interstate exchange in melons. Far from being scared off, he butted heads with officials and goaded them and in this one case, goarded them.

It was a Saturday morning in late July. My cousin Thumper and me were sitting in the hold having a smoke, sitting on a couple of fruit crates when the Old Man's voice came over the speakers. "Boys, those bastards from the DA are linin' the highway below, trying to prevent me from settin' down somewhere to bring this here fruit to the good people of South Dakota. Let's say we give 'em a day to remember." Thumper and me looked at each other and laughed. It was vintage Grand Dad. His voice came over the speakers again, "Get up off your duffs. I'm openin' the bomb bay doors. On my signal start tossin' out melons. Not all of 'em of course! There's good money there! Give 'em a dozen or so. Just a little somethin' to remember us by." Thumper and me jumped off the crates and grabbed a couple of melons each. Grand Dad announced, "Openin' bomb bay doors." We looked down at the road rolling beneath us less than two hundred feet below."Now!" shouted Grand Dad. Bein' dutiful grandsons we started tossin' melons down onto the cars. They plunged graceful, silent and then exploded on the hoods of cars. USDA agents shot out of the cars stompin' their feet and shakin' their fists in the air. As for the Old Man, well he had himself a good laugh over that speaker and then eased the plane up, headin' north up onto Fargo.