Page 104 - REALLY What A time Book IX

REALLY SO WHAT
What A Time

OUR BACK YARD

I waited until all was clear, during the weekend. Off I went
down the hill past the playground, past the great ditch across
the valley and up the other side to the bottom of the bridge.

I’d chosen the best place. The corner on the far north toward
Shirlington, on the South Fairlington abutment. The concrete
edge wasn’t totally covered with dirt. I used the spade to dig a
larger opening, sliding my capsule under the abutment and
covering it. Proud of my accomplishment, and great secret; I
mounted up and rode my imaginary trusted steed down the hill
back home.
Years later I was driving north from Florida through
Richmond into Washington when I thought about that
treasure. I reasoned I’d be able to recognize the bridge while
driving between the two Fairlingtons.

To my total surprise it wasn’t possible. Everything had
changed so much that I couldn’t recognize anything. For all I
knew I might not have been on the right highway.
Had I been able to recognize it I doubt if I’d have stopped or
been able to retrieve it. I thought later of two things. First
the memory of the scent of the cap smoke made when it
exploded. I’ve heard that the olfaction memory lingers for
years. Maybe that’s true as I could still smell it. The other
thought was that the treasure had probably been crushed by
the settling of the abutment into the earth.

The final adventure that came from the Valley construction
was deep into the sewers. I’m not claustrophobic. Just really

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