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2002 Note: This now-embarrassing "story" is just a string of the worst contrived automotive and sex puns ever collected. "Sophomoric" is the perfect term, because I was actually a U of M sophomore at the time!

Manifold Destiny

The continuing adventures of "Groaner" Fred Furter and Joe Kajuba

Copyright 1974, 2002 by Bruce Jaeger. All rights reserved.  
(Printed in the DNF, November 1974 through February 1975)

Episode #1: Reunion

     "Groaner" Fred Furter’s enrollment with the U.S. Army was finally over. Fred had joined four years previously when faced with a crunched Jaguar, a 120 mph speeding ticket and a suspended license. He left the army with a brand new driver’s license, four hundred dollars and. an excellent background in repairing Quimby-Meyerson VD Detectorometers.
     Fred bought an old Sunbeam Alpine with the money. It ran, after a fashion, and he used it in great job-hunting quests. The demand for Quimby-Meyerson VD Detectorometers repairmen being slightly less than overwhelming, he had to settle for a dollar-fifty an hour job pumping gas, With the essentials of life obtained (a car and a job—the girl comes in another episode*) Fred looked up his old pre-army sidekick, Joe Kajuba.
     Joe, as it turned out, owned his own foreign-car repair garage. This cane as a big surprise to Fred, who had only known Joe as a penniless leech.
     "Hey, Joe!" he cried upon seeing him. "Where did you get the money?"
     "My rich uncle was killed in a car accident," replied Joe.
     "That must have been a terrible shock."
     "No, he had a tire blow on his car," corrected Joe.
     "Well," said Groaner, "Those are the breaks!"
     "Actually, Fred," said Joe, pointing, "Those are a hunch of old voltage regulators." He dug in the pile for awhile until he found a grimy old antique, ‘What do you think of this, one?" he asked.
     "I can’t tell. It’s pretty oily," answered Fred.
     "All right, you can look again in the afternoon," said Joe. "I can’t see too well in the morning, myself."
     "You do look exhausted," observed Fred.
     "No," sighed Joe, "Herb over there handles the mufflers. I just unloaded the Semperit truck. I’m tired."
     They walked inside the garage. Over in a dark corner a. muscular man was beating on a pressure-plate with a lead hammer.
     "I bet that’s your clutch-hitter!" giggled Fred.
     Joe moaned. Picking up a polyester-cord tire, he said, "How’d you like a belted in the mouth?" He threw the tire at Fred.
     "Hey!" shouted Fred. "Don’t throw your old biases at me!" The man working on the clutch clamped his hand firmly over his mouth and stumbled towards the bathroom.
     "Groaner, now look what you’ve done!" said Joe.
     "Did he sit on a tach?" asked Fred. "Did he choke?"
     "Fred, go play in the freeway."
     "I can’t," said Fred. "I just ate, and my dentist said to avoid between-meal streets."
     "OUT!" screamed Joe, nauseated.
     Fred thought it over, and decided it might be a good idea to leave, especially since he saw Joe picking up a metric crescent wrench, murder in his eyes. The bathroom was still occupied by the hapless mechanic, so Fred piston the sink before he left.

* Dirty pun! 

 Episode #2: "Groaner" and the Girl

     "Groaner" Fred Punter was working at the gas station one day about a week after the incident in Joe Kajuba’s garage. Suddenly, a beautiful girl in a wheezing old Triumph Herald Sedan drove up. "What’ll it be?" Fred asked. "Will you marry me?"
     "A buck’s worth of your worst," she replied. "No."
     "What’s your name?" queried Fred.
     "Well, you’d he just another month to feed, anyway." Fred collected a dollar for the gas. Smiling apologetically, he said, "I own a Sunbeam Alpine. How do you like English cars?"
     "How do you like the Asian Flu?" replied June.
     "Hey!" said Fred. "you’re a good retorter."
     "You take that back. I’m not that kind of girl."
     Seeing that that line of attack wasn’t getting him anywhere, Groaner asked, "Wanna go on a road rally with me tonight? You can be my navigator."
     "Just hold on a sextant, mister!"
     "Oh, we can do that, too, if you’re willing."
     "In a little Sunbeam?"
     "Oh no, it’s a night rally. It’ll be dark."
     "Well, in that case, I have three bottles," finished June.
     "Huh?" went Fred.

     Fred and June drew the number 27 when the registered for the rally. They were the only English car there--the rallymaster commended them for their bravery.
     A few minutes before they were clue to leave, Fred suggested going to a gas station.
     "Why?" asked June, "The tank’s full of gas."
     "So am I," replied Fred.

     They made it back just in time to leave for the odometer check. It didn’t take them long to get lost. Even worse, while roaring around in the boondocks looking for a "Right after "Kinninnickinick Picnic Grounds" the Sunbeam gave up the ghost and quit.
     "Typical English car," murmured June.
     "Yeah," agreed Fred, "Put it is sort of romantic, isn’t it?" After turning off the lights, he extended his right arm and gently fondled the shift knob.
     "I thought that move was going to go bust," said June.
     "I was going to make a clean breast of things." Fred grabbed the heavy lead knockoff hammer and proceeded to repair the Alpine’s engine.
     "It’s rally time we got going," urged June.
     "I guess you’re right. I think I’ll try for those two checkpoints again."
     "Keep your hands on the wheel."
     Fred, June and the Alpine sputtered off into the moonset. 

 Episode #3: The Lake Street Jungle

     Shortly after the road rally described in the last episode, Fred’s Sunbeam broke down again, which English cars tend to do as regularly as clockwork. Since he lacked a fairly important part--a crankshaft--Fred persuaded June to drive him ever to Joe Kajuba’s garage.
     "Hi, Joe," he said as they walked in, "This is June."
     "The hell You say. We all thought it was April. You haven’t told anyone else, have you?"
     "He probably thinks he’s the first person to crack that joke," whispered June to Fred.
     "I certainly won’t be the last," Joe whispered to rune, overhearing her.
     "Have you not a crankshaft for a Sunbeam Alpine?" whispered Fred to Joe.
     "No!" hollered Joe. "The demand is so great, I can’t keep them in stock."
     "Where do I have to go to get one?"
     "Lake Street."
     "Oh, No!" June rasped, clutching Fred’s arm. "Not that!"
     "Yes," said Joe. "I’m afraid it’s the only way."

     June, Fred and Joe all squeezed into June’s Triumph Herald and rattled their way towards Lake Street. Just as they turned onto Lake Street from a side road, they were overtaken by what once might have been a Plymouth Road Runner. The front end, rolling on motorcycle tires, was so low that the license plate trailed a. shower of sparks as the car slowed for a light. The rear end of the Road Runner, resting on top of 24 inch wide tires, was jacked six feet in the air by a combination of springs, shackles and rail stolen from a Soo Line freight yard. Huge un-muffled straight pipes suspended between the axle and frame rumbled sounds as pleasant to listen to as a baby throwing up on your new deep pile carpet. The Road Runner’s paint job looked like it was done by the same baby.
     The "car" rolled to a stop next to June in the Triumph, The car’s passenger, a teenager suffering from terminal acne, rolled down the window and leered at June.
     "Hiya, cutey!" he belched.
     "Yuch!" June replied. The Road Runner’s driver revved the engine, and a pane of glass shattered across the street. The driver leaned over the passenger and stuck his head near the window.
     "Wanna drag?" he shouted.
     "I’m no queer," answered Joe. "Ask Fred, though," he offered.
     "Do you want to carry your teeth home in your hand?" Joe asked Fred.
     "Hey, You assholes, do you wanna race?" hollered the passenger with the pizza-face.
     "Now they’re throwing ethnic slurs at us," said June. "Say, fellows," she said, leaning out her window, "Don’t you know that in the Declaration. of Independence, it states that All men are created equal, and that.. ." The rest was lost in the thunder of exhaust and squealing tires as the Road Runner’s crew escaped June’s lecture.
     "That equality speech sure scared them off, you pretty little Dago, you!" said Fred. 

Episode #4: Brainerd International Raceway

     "Groaner" Fred Furter successfully repaired his Sunbeam Alpine, proving once again that Practice Makes Perfect. Knowing that good things seldom last forever--or even till the next paycheck--Fred decided to take a good trip in the Alpine before it had another chance to self-destruct. Fred decided to chance the trip to Brainerd.
     Since going alone to BIR is like making love to your wristwatch*, Fred asked June to accompany him to the races. Foolishly, she agreed.
     Fred arrived in front of June’s apartment very, very early Saturday morning.
     "Hi! How’s tricks?" he asked as she stumbled sleepily to the car.
     "I’m not that kind of girl!"
     After travelling about thirty miles, June expressed an interest in driving. Fred, too tired to think straight, was willing to let her. After changing places, she revved the engine, engaged the clutch, put the stick into the vague slot that meant "first" and killed the engine.
     "I’ve never driven a high-performance sports car before," she explained.
     "Neither have I," creaked Fred. June was lucky enough to get the car running again, and crunched her way up through the gears.
     "I don’t like your shiftsl" cried Fred.
     ‘Well, I didn’t have a thing to wear!" said June.

     The battered Sunbeam started making horrible noises as they neared the big town of Ogilvie, and Fred pulled into the town’s hotel/general store/filling station to see what was the matter. The grizzled old attendant listened to the engine for awhile.
     "You auto keep this tuned up!" he chuckled.
     "I gotta drive all morning just to listen to this clown" thought Fred as the old geezer fiddle-dicked with the engine. "Hey, old timer, have you lived in this hamlet all your life?" he asked.
     "Not yet," giggled the old pump jockey. His giggles suddenly turned into a coughing spasm, which mucked up the Alpine’s windscreen no end. "Actually," said the old man, "I was born in Wisconsin."
     "Oh! said June. "Which part?"
     "All of me! cackled the old geezer as he threw up on the exhaust manifold.
     Fred propped the man up against a gas pump, gave the Alpine a good, swift kick--which fixed the engine--and they took off.
     Fred and June arrived at the race track late Saturday morning, and pulled up at Fred’s favorite corner just as practice was about to end. Fred was talking to one of the corner workers as a Mini with the number 42D went by.
     "42D!" laughed Fred. "That’s pretty big for such a small car!
     "Huh?" mumbled the worker.
     "That guy must be a real pervert!"
     "No," replied the worker, "He’s a bisexual. He wants it, he buys it."
     As Fred couldn’t stand the thought of anybody being funnier than himself, he wandered away to get his joke file.
     The races Saturday afternoon went without further incident. When they were over, Fred and June left for the lakeshore campground they had decided upon. As they pulled in, Fred spied a beautiful chick sunbathing in a rowboat 30 feet from shore.
     "Now there’s a girl certainly worth wading for!" exclaimed Fred. (If looks could kill, the daggers in June’s eyes would have made further episodes of this tale unnecessary.) The girl rowed the boat to shore, pulled on her pants, and walked provocatively away.
     "Ah, yes!" said Fred. "Another case of the end justifying the jeans!"
     They ate din-din, and went to bed. Those damned English roadsters.


     June was shaking Fred. "Get up, you lazy lout; I got up bright and early to watch the sunrise "
     "Couldn’t have picked a better time."
     "Hurry up," hastened June. "I’ve made two kinds of eggs for you this morning-take your pick."
     "I think I’ll use my hammer instead," quipped Fred, now fully awake. After eating, they left for the track. About halfway to the track, Fred started complaining.
     "What was in those eggs? Uranium?"
     "Why?" asked June, bracing herself,
     "Because I’ve got atomic ache!" He was driving, so June didn’t dare hit him.
     The temperature was soaring as Fred and June arrived at the track for the second day of racing. As they entered the infield, the girl from the rowboat, clad once again in a skimpy bikini, walked over to Fred.
     "Hi," she purred. "Isn’t this balmy weather?"
     "I’d certainly like to," said Fred, "But June here would kill me." Fortunately, there was a diversion at this point as a car left the track and demolished a spectator’s beer keg. The irate spectator hauled the driver out of the car.
     "Oh!" said Fred, "Did you see that fanbelt him?"
     The girl ran off.

     As they drove back to the cities after the races, June complained, "I’ve got a terrible sunburn."
     "Well," giggled Fred, "You certainly got what you basked for!"

* An excellent idea for a Hot-To article!

Episode #5: Happily Ever After

     Many moons had gone by since the Brainerd race in the last episode. Some of the moons were from convertibles, but most were from sedans. Anyway, our story opens with Fred, June and Joe arriving at a party for SCCA Land-O-Lakes Region race workers. Fred and June were entering the party room just as Joe was parking his Volkswagen Sex-Van. June immediately informed Fred that she had to "powder her nose," and went off to the ladies room.
     "Gee," said Fred, "I thought she didn’t wear make-up."
     Joe walked in. "Hiya, Fred! Where’s June?"
     "She’s powdering her nose."
     "Oh. She’s dumping a load. Laying a cable."
     "Joe, you always had such a way with words."
     "Well, let’s go in. Shall find us."
     With that, "Groaner" Fred Furter and Joe Kajuba entered the main ballroom. While there was none of that going on, there was plenty of liquor. Hundreds of pretty girls were lined up against the walls.
     "Sure are a lot of pretty girls lined up against the walls," mentioned Fred.
     "Yep," agreed Joe. "Sure are. Say Fred, what do you get when you cut 2000 bras in half?"
     "Wha?" mumbled Fred.
     "4000 beanies with chin straps!" screamed Joe as he rolled along the floor.
     "Hey!" exclaimed Fred, "I didn’t even give you a straight line! That’s not fair!"
     "Well I couldn’t wait forever," Joe explained. "Okay, give me a straight line, then."
     "Sure are a lot of pretty girls lined up against the walls," said Fred. "You know what the Mormons say."
     "Sure," replied Joe, "I don’t care how you Brigham, just Brigham Young!" He and Fred slapped each other on the back, giggling uncontrollably.
     "Hey!" puffed Fred as he caught his breath, "Lookit that Swedish girl!"
     "You mean that smorgasbroad?" chuckled Joe.
     "Yeah. Boy, that’s a low-cut dress. I wish all girls would show that much heart!"
     "Wow!" said Joe, "She’s got an astounding pectoral development."
     "And to think I’ve been calling them boobies all my life!" sighed Fred. At this point, June joined Fred, and told him she wanted to leave. Fred suspected that she didn’t like all the competition, but he said nothing. As they left, Joe was approaching the Swedish girl.
     "Hi!" greeter Joe. "Do you speak English?"
     "Yes, a little," replied the tall Swedish beauty.
     "How much?"
     "Forty dollars."
     "Oh. Ahh, can I get you a drink?" stuttered Joe.
     "Sure, Mac." They moved over to one of the many bottle-covered tables located around the ballroom. Joe picked up a water glass and began pouring bourbon into it.
     "Say when," he said as he poured.
     "Right after this drink will be fine with me."

     Meanwhile, Fred and June were out parked in some secluded lane. Fred was about to make his move, when he suddenly stopped and put his hands at his side. June hung an "Out of Ardor" sign around his neck.
     A two-toned American sedan with funny red lights pulled up alongside and shined a spotlight into the Sunbeam, A uniformed man got out of the car and walked over to Fred’s window.
     "What are you doing in here?" he demanded.
     "N… N… Nothing!"
     "Then get out and let a man in there!" leered the public servant.

     Fred and June drove away, and June whispered something in Fred’s ear. "The hell you are!" shouted Fred, and they were married the very next day.

Note: June was a sleepy bride... she couldn’t stay awake for a second ....


The End

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