From the Improvement Era, January 1943 –

A Substitute for Gas

By Olive W. Burt

Michael O’Leary maneuvered Suki into the driveway of Audrey’s yard and honked three times. He didn’t expect Audrey to come out; this was just his signal for her to put the finishing touches on her prettying up. He unwound his long legs from beneath the wheel, climbed over the door and leaped to the ground. Then, before he went up the walk he turned and patted the fender gently.

“Good girl!” he muttered.

Suki was his model T Ford, a dilapidated and disreputable looking affair, but he loved her. Only a few of the fellows had their own cars, and this gave them a particular prestige in the gang. Those who had to depend on their father’s generosity never knew when or where they could go. But Mike and his fellow car owners could always fill up their buggies and step out of an evening.

Could until now, Mike thought ruefully. He wondered how he could break the news to Audrey.

Mrs. Hansen answered his ring and invited him into the living room. “Audrey’ll be down in a moment,” she said, excusing herself.

Mike looked about the comfortable room. He had spent a good deal of time there, waiting for Audrey, but he hadn’t thought much about it before. Tonight he found himself wondering about Audrey’s home. What was it like really? What were her folks like really?

Mr. Hansen came in with his paper. “Audrey keeping you waiting again?” he asked, and at Mike’s sour look he laughed. “You’ll get used to it in time,” he said.

“It’s not that,” Mike explained sorrowfully. “It’s just that I’ve got bad news for Audrey, so I don’t care whether she hurries tonight or not.”

“Bad news!” Mr. Hansen grinned. “You’re not flunking your classes so you have to give up some of this night life, I hope? Audrey couldn’t stand that, I’m afraid. I often wonder how you kids keep it up.”

But before Mike could explain, Audrey came dancing down the stairs, her yellow curls flying from beneath a bright red bow.

“Ready, Mike!” she called, pecked her father’s cheek, and dashed to the door.

“Where you off to tonight?” Mr. Hansen asked, as Mike rose slowly to follow Audrey.

“Oh, just out to the Old Barn for a dance session,” explained Mike. He felt very much a man of the world talking to Audrey’s father this way.

They climbed into Suki, and Mike backed slowly out of the driveway.

“I asked the crowd to meet us on the corner by Sampson’s,” he explained.

“Whatever for?” asked Audrey. “Why don’t you go get them as usual?” She couldn’t understand Mike’s gloomy look. But he merely shook his head mournfully, “Saves time,” he said.

Mike drove very slowly. Suki had never been able to go really fast, but the way Mike usually drove you got the impression it was going fast. But tonight, Audrey noticed, he handled the old car very gently. He turned carefully aside for every rock and bump; he turned corners as if the street were covered with ice. Audrey couldn’t understand Mike tonight.

On the corner they picked up the rest of the gang that generally rode with them, and conversation in the old buggy improved. But the slow and careful driving continued. It took them ages to get to the Old Barn.

There was a hectic quality about that evening that Audrey couldn’t explain. Some of the boys were glum, but others seemed their usual gay selves. Sam, the proprietor of the place, was one of the gloomy ones. He came to their booth, a mournful smile on his face.

“Guess I’ll be going bankrupt,” he said, looking down at Mike.

“Yeah?” Mike answered without enthusiasm. “Well, you can get a job at the arms plant.”

“What does he mean?” Audrey asked. “It’s just the beginning of the season. He ought to make lots of money this year. Most of the fellows have jobs, part time at least. I should think he’d be happy!”

Mike looked at her sadly. “Don’t you read the papers, kid?” he asked.

Audrey bobbed her yellow curls up and down.

“Uh-huh!” she said brightly, “the funnies.”

Mike looked at her. She was surely pretty with her big blue eyes and her skin as pink and white as a doll’s. What did it matter if she didn’t read the papers. He could tell her what was in them.

“You haven’t heard about gas rationing?” he asked.

“Oh, yeah! That!” Audrey dismissed it with a shrug. “That’s back east. It doesn’t matter to us.”

“Sez you!” Mike sounded really bitter and Audrey looked at him curiously.

“It’s here, too,” he went on. “I don’t know whether I can even get any gas for Suki. Anyway I shouldn’t. I shouldn’t go riding around in her just for fun when every bit of rubber is needed for the war. Guess I’ll turn her in for scrap.”

“Oh, Mike! You can’t! What’ll we do all winter?”

Just then Carol and Jim, Lucy and Fred came by and stopped.

“Who’s dead?” Lucy asked, noting the glum expression on their faces.

“Mike was just telling us we can’t have any more gas. That means — ” Audrey began, but Fred interrupted, “No more joy rides; no coming out to the Old Barn to dance; no rushing over to Centertown for the Friday night basketball games; no — ”

“Oh, cut it, Fred!” Mike commanded.

Audrey sipped her chocolate soda with long, thoughtful draws.

“It’s going to be a dull winter,” moaned Carol. “And it’s starting right now. Jim says we can’t come out here even next Friday!”

Audrey shoved back her glass with a determined air.

“Well, I’m not going to take it lying down!” she said, her stubborn little chin stuck out.

“Oh, no?” scoffed Fred. “Well just what are you going to do about it?”

“I don’t know yet, but I’ll think of something.”

They were all bad tempered, because they were sure the end of their pleasant world had come.

“Maybe she can invent a substitute for gas!” sneered Fred.

“Well I don’t know,” Audrey drawled coolly. “Maybe I can. I’ll tell you, though, if we can’t come out to the Barn next Friday why don’t you all come to my place? You can walk, jump rope or roller skate, or even, if you’re plutocrats, ride a bike. But we can have our regular Friday session there, and then maybe we can figure up a way to live through all the Fridays that loom ahead.”

They danced after that, determined to make the most of this last Friday night at the Old Barn. But there was an undercurrent of sadness, and the crowd broke up rather early, considering their usual habit.

On the way home Mike tried to justify himself.

“I wouldn’t feel right, kid,” he explained glumly, “even if I could get gas, driving a car. Why, I’d be in the fight, myself, if I’d been born a couple of years sooner. It seems like I’m sort of a slacker to be riding around on rubber when the fellows that are fighting need it.”

Audrey squeezed his arm.

“I’m glad you feel like that, Mike,” she whispered. “I think you’re swell!”

After all, Mike thought, that was all that mattered.

When the crowd assembled the next Friday evening they found the radio plugged into an extension cord carried through the living room window to the long side porch, where chairs and cushions had been scattered to supplement the glider. In a hastily rigged up fireplace flames were leaping. “This isn’t very swell,” Audrey explained, “but it will do for a starter. Later, when it gets colder, we can go inside.”

“Or come over to our garage,” Mike suggested eagerly. “If I turn in Suki for scrap and Dad stores his car we’d have lots of room. It’s heated, too!”

Carol drawled slowly, “We’ve got an enormous kitchen, and when I told Mom about the dearth of entertainment we were facing this winter she said her crowd used to come over there — it was Grandma’s place, you know — and make molasses candy of a winter evening. I’ve never tried it, but she said it was fun.”

“Yeah!” laughed Mike. “I’ve heard my mother tell of those old candy pulls, as they called them. We might try it, when we’re bored. It might be fun.”

“Imagine!” scoffed Elsie, “pulling candy! I can feature it!”

“It might sweeten you up a bit!” said Fred. Then he went on, “I guess I was grumbling, too, Audrey, ’cause Dad told me how his crowd used to have a ‘doughnut ring’ they called it. They’d meet at each other’s houses and fry doughnuts. They even made up poems and songs about it and had a great time.”

The crowd went into gales of laughter at this thought, and, in an effort to outdo Fred’s father, they rummaged through their memories for the crazy kinds of good times their own parents used to have, the quaint stories they had been told, the amusing anecdotes of quilting bees and corn huskings and barn dances.

“We can streamline that idea and have garage dances,” Mike laughed.

Helene and Joe, who had just come into the circle, joined in the merriment. Helene was bubbling with excitement.

“Listen, bunch!” she said, “I’ve got the swellest idea! Why don’t we all start going to the young folk’s meeting in the ward house? It’s handy enough so we don’t have to ride there, and the kids that go say they have lots of fun, — dances and programs and socials.”

“Mutual!” laughed Audrey. “Yes, it is fun, really. Why don’t you?”

“But we don’t belong!” objected Jim.

“That doesn’t matter,” explained Audrey. “Just come, and you’ll belong. You’d be surprised how many of the kids we all know do go. They’re not in our crowd, exactly, but we know them at school, and they’re fun.”

Helene said, “I’ve got Joe converted, and the chapel is so close — no gas needed!”

The argument grew lively as they listened to the radio, danced, or stood around the fire, until Audrey, serving doughnuts and cider and popcorn balls had a chance to say, “I’ve been taking down all your ideas, kids, and do you know we have enough suggestions to keep us going every night of the week for a long time? But we can’t do that. I suggested first of all that we use some of these extra evenings we’ve been spending in the car to catch up on our studies. We might get grades we’d be proud of for a change. But there’s a lot to do — lots of fun waiting. And I don’t think the rubber shortage is going to work any hardship on us.”

Still later, when the crowd broke up, Louise said, “It’s our deck next Friday, bunch. We want to make the most of these autumn evenings. It’ll be soon enough to go pioneer when the cold winds blow. So I’ll be expecting you next Friday for a hep session on the deck.”

“And I’ll be seeing you Tuesday at Mutual!” laughed Helene. “Do come, all of you, and give it a try.”

They went away laughing, in little groups, savoring the talk and laughter of the evening as long as they could.

Mike lingered. He slipped his arm through Audrey’s as she stood beside him on the porch, watching the last ones go down the street.

“Smart kid,” he whispered. “You’re sweet!” Then after a moment, “I don’t know but what I’m glad we can’t get gas.”