There are two parks in Lima: Yingling Park and Fronz Park. They are named after the city’s most prominent families. Patriarchs Sam Yingling and Sam Fronz were close friends who hated each other and they feuded often, mostly over land. In 1974 Sam Yingling decided to give back to Lima and with the state’s permission developed ten acres of riverfront property into a park and named it Yingling Park. Later that year Sam Fronz also decided to give back to Lima and turned twelve acres into a park with four baseball diamonds and two soccer fields. He named it Fronz Park. Yingling Park became known as the park for picnics and for seeing and being seen and Fronz Park was where you played sports. On weekend afternoons Fronz Park would be full of young children and Parents, and teenagers would go to Yingling Park for drinking and flirting and all that.

May, 1975. My cousin breaks his ankle and he’s told he can’t play soccer until October so he starts hanging at Yingling Park and one day he drinks with a girl he knows from English class and they get together. At another cousin’s confirmation party he tells me that he gave her the business on the hood of his dad’s car as payback for when his dad made him pull weeds on a super-hot day. Sam Fronz opens a bar called Go Go’s across the street from Fronz Park. He tells the bartender he shouldn’t ask kids for ID if they look at least 15 and he tells his son to tell kids at school that Go Go’s never cards. By July, teenagers are driving from as far away as Wapakoneta to hang at Go Go’s. The bartender serves drinks in to-go cups with lids and straws so kids can drink in the park without fear of being caught. Soon enough, Fronz Park becomes the party park and Yingling Park becomes the park where old people go to complain to each other about how much Fronz Park has changed in such a short while. Cars idle outside Go Go’s, their speakers blasting Thin Lizzy and Tom Petty. The girl my cousin is getting with gets with a soccer player with a pool and my cousin gets into buying two gin and tonics at the same time and drinking them in the park with dudes who my aunt says do bad stuff for attention. The Sunday before Labor Day cops come to the bar to check IDs and to have a chat with Sam Fronz. One of the bad dudes tells a cop to eat shit and die, and he is beaten in the bathroom. “Bathroom Beatdown” is my favorite song on my cousin’s band’s album, probably because it’s the only one with a story I know about. I ask him about the stories behind “Tightrope Margie” and “Killface” and he says he’ll tell me at Go Go’s once I’m old enough to hang there. But the cops shut down Go Go’s in October and my cousin stops coming to family parties and only hangs in the basement of one of those dudes’ houses, and later on he goes to college. At his wedding in 1990 I ask him about “Tightrope Margie” and “Killface” and he says, “No stories behind those. ‘Tightrope Margie’ is just about sex and ‘Killface’ is just about death. Sex and death was all I wanted to write about back then.”

Sydney suffered a devastating influenza outbreak in the spring of 1918. Over two thousand people died in three months and most businesses closed because so much of the population fled or died. Pete’s Grocery on Poplar Street remained open throughout the outbreak and Pete seized the opportunity and raised the price on everything. Flour went for two dollars a bag and meat became a luxury item. Pete’s was the only place in town to buy food so the devastated citizens of Sydney were forced to pay the high prices in order to survive. Well, there was another option: the feed lot in nearby Port Jefferson suspended their wholesale-only policy to accommodate folks who were suffering. Pete would say, You can buy animal food at the feed lot if you want to, but don’t come crying to me when your kids start behaving like pigs. Neither Pete nor anyone in his family caught the virus and they all became wealthy because of it.

GARY 1 and GARY 2 are at the bar drinking gin and tonics. Their unfortunate clothes indicate that they are not busy or vital men. They are roiled up about something.

GARY 1: Marvin Lewis is a piece. Of. Shit.

GARY 2: Big time.

GARY 1: This is what he’s thinking. This is what he’s thinking when he wakes up in the morning: What can I do to piss off the entire tri-state area?

GARY 2: And that’s what he does.

GARY 1: And that’s exactly what he does. Every time he has a chance.

Bartender: Another round, gents?

GARY 1: A quick one, I’ve got to meet that girl.

GARY 2: The ladybot? Josephine?

GARY 1: Oh, I didn’t tell you. No, the girl from Burger King called, Linda, the one I gave the roses.

GARY 2: Nice. It worked.

GARY 1: She said she wants to play putt-putt. So we’re playing putt-putt tonight.

GARY 2: Nice. Think you’re gonna?

GARY 1: We’ll see. It could be weird because she said her cat has to come. She told me to call the putt-putt place and ask if that’s cool, so I called this morning and I ask the guy if they allow cats. The dude cracks up, and he’s like, Yeah, she can bring the cat. But it can’t come in the clubhouse.

GARY 2: [laughing] It can’t come in the clubhouse.

GARY 1: So I call her back and say she can bring the cat. She got real excited about it. She tells me she’s not good at golf but lately she’s been trying to try new things. She wants me to teach her how to putt.

GARY 2: Does she know you suck at putt-putt too?

GARY 1: I said I was OK at putt-putt. See, I want to do one of those things where you get behind a girl and teach her how to do something, like how to shoot pool or whatever, so it’s like, Hey honey, I’m all up on you but it’s not creepy because you’re learning something.

[The g and t's arrive.]

GARY 2: That’s the way to do it. She says she’s trying to try new things, eh? That sounds promising, if you know what I mean.

GARY 1: New things are good things.

GARY 2: I’d like to get a new thing going with a ladybot but every one I meet won’t give me the time of day.

GARY 1: Sucks, man.

GARY 2: Yeah. Like last week for example, I’m pulling out of a parking spot at Kroger’s and I run into a ladybot. And I’m like, Well, fuck. I wasn’t going that fast or anything so she’s not all fucked up, thank God. But she’s on the ground. I get out of the car and I’m apologizing like crazy and I ask if she needs water or a ride somewhere and she says no, don’t sweat it. She wasn’t pissed or anything, which was cool. So I figure, Hey, I got this ladybot here talking to me and she seems super-cool, I might as well ask her if she’d like to come back to my house for a beer.

GARY 1: Nice. What she’d say?

GARY 2: She says maybe. So I ask her what I can do to convince you? and she goes, Here’s my problem: If I go back to your place for a beer, I’m gonna want to have sex with you.

GARY 1: Very nice.

GARY 2: So I say, That’s fine with me, honey, get in the car. But she says, Are you an idiot? And I say sometimes. And she says, Well, I don’t want to have sex with someone who’s an idiot because if I get pregnant, our kid will be an idiot. Then she she wants me to prove to her that I’m not an idiot.

GARY 1: Wait, wait. Ladybots cannot get pregnant. Did you tell her that?

GARY 2: I did. I say ladybots can’t get pregnant, and this is the best part: she says that she’s not a typical ladybot. She’s a hybridbot: 25% human, 75% bot. The 25% parts are the parts she needs to get pregnant, all the tubes and pouches that girls have. She says humans get hybdridbots pregnant all the time but the babybots are usually killed. We never hear about it because the Air Force Base and Wright State are covering it up.

GARY 1: Bullshit.

GARY 2: Oh, I know. But I wanna get laid so I say, What can I do to prove to you that I’m not an idiot? She says, Name all the US presidents and their vice presidents in order, and I say that’s more or less impossible, and she says, No it’s not, and she names the first twenty or so real quick. She had  all those saved on her harddrive, it wasn’t fair. And I told her that.

GARY 1: Then what’d she say?

GARY 2: She said she wasn’t going to argue with someone who drinks before he goes grocery shopping.

GARY 1: What a bitch.

GARY 2: At this point I’m thinking, this isn’t happening, so I get in the car. But then she walks around to the window and asks me to roll it down and she gives me her number and says she wants me to call her sometime and we can get together. But only if I memorize the presidents first.

GARY 1: Wow. You should hit the books, man.

GARY 2: I’m gonna. I’m gonna get online about it.

GARY 1: Do it. [finishes drink and stands up to leave] So hey, I have to go to putt-putt.

GARY 2: Good luck with Burger King.

GARY 1: Thanks.

GARY 2: Oh, Gary. Hey Gary.

GARY 1: What?

GARY 2: [laughing] Don’t let that cat in the clubhouse.

GARY 1: I’ll try not to. [walks toward door]

GARY 2: Hey. Gary.

GARY 1: What?

GARY 2: Don’t let that cat in the clubhouse, Gary. Don’t let that cat in the clubhouse.

NEXT: The Fox in the Garage Part 5: The Date

-Fun night?

-The funnest night. Me and Z went to the Hello Surf show and afterwards we walked by the brewery and there were these girls outside and they said, Hey guys, do you meat? and Z and I looked at each other and we were like, Uh, Yeah we do so we went inside and they were having this beer and meat tasting thing and we ate at least five pounds of barbecue and drank all this eight-percent beer, the good stuff, not what you’ve had before. This was serious beer, honey, give me a kiss.

-Fine.

[A kiss.]

-So we hang at the brewery for three hours and people are dancing and shit and I danced with this girl from Maine who just moved here and she’s gonna be a jazz dancer and she’s so good at dancing so I know she’s gonna do OK, and Z was working on this group of Parsons girls, killing them with his T-shirt talk. And he had his backpack full of shirts and one of the girls wanted a Zoloft shirt and another wanted a seahorse shirt and he gave the hot one a Stephen shirt, you know Stephen, the dinosaur from Clifford.

-The what?

-The Martin Short movie, Grodin, doesn’t matter, so we hang at the brewery until 2 or so and Z decides to call Georgia. Yeah, Georgia Georgia, and at first I was like, This is a terrible idea, but it ended up being cool because she was drunk too and they really hit it off. Then he hands the phone to me and I say, Why hello, pretty girl, I watched you shake it tonight, but I didn’t tell her it was me so she thought a friend of this random guy was also hitting on her but it was actually her ex.

-That’s kinda fucked up.

-You’re fucked up, give me a kiss, why is Little Ann still awake?

-He was sleeping until you came home. Good God, why are your hands so dirty?

-Oh! Oh! So after the brewery party we walk to the Bedford stop and the sign says the train’s gonna come in ten minutes so we’re like, Fuck it, let’s cab it, but then Z says, Ten minutes is just enough time for a track hang.

-Oh no.

-So we climb down to the tracks. It was so easy, there’s a mofo ladder right there and, in FACT, it’s retarded that more people don’t do this ‘cause it’s easy and awesome. So we’re hanging on the tracks and Z’s dancing like a lunatic and these girls on the platform are into it, taking pictures and shit, and Z gets all on fours and kisses the track.

-He kissed the rail?

-Track, rail, whatever, he kissed the track, he Frenched it. And so did I. And one of the girls taking pictures climbs down and mounts the track. So Z’s kissing it, I’m kissing it, this girl’s riding it, she’s holding Z’s hand, it’s amazing. All the city’s energy went into our mouths and it’s still with me, the exuberance of the city is in my mouth. Look at my teeth, it’s still there, you can see it. You want some Brooklyn exuberance in your mouth? Get over here.

-You’re disgusting.

-I see what’s going on here. You’re jealous that I was out kissing track and not at home kissing you.

-You’re absolutely right. I’m jealous of you and your subway-track orgy friends.

-[singing] Jea-jea-jealous WO-man! She’s a jea-jea-jealous girl!

-Is that even a song?

-Now it is.

-You are such a—

-What? An exuberant fellow? Why thank you. Why thank you, m’lady.

-Listen. I’m pregnant.

-[crazy laughter] This is so perfect!

-No it’s not. Stop laughing.

-It’s perfect that I come home all DRUNK and tell you this awesome story about kissing track and me being awesome and you’re all serious, I’m pregnant. I’m pregnant, honey. It’s a perfect scene. Good, I’m happy for us, bring on the children, we’re starting a family band. Little Ann, wake up! You’re learning bass tonight. I’m the frontman and this new cat’s the drummer. [rubs her belly]

-Do you want more kids?

-Fuck it, sure.

-FUCK IT, SURE is your answer?

-[singing] Jea-jea-jealous WO-man. She’s a pre-pregnant WO-man. Fu-fu-fu fuck it, sure, man.

-I’m not actually pregnant, you dick.

-Phew. Close call. Time for the post-pregnancy-scare sex, come here. [he's grabby]

-Jesus, stop. See, this ridiculous display is proof that you’re not an adult. What if I were pregnant, huh, and I needed to go to the doctor and I call you and you’re MIA and I have to call a friend and they say, Where’s your man? and I have to say, Who knows, he could be out kissing track with Z. Do you know Z, the guy who gives girls novelty T-shirts and then fucks them and doesn’t call them?

-Z calls them. He takes girls out, his parents are loaded.

-That’s not the point. The point is, I don’t know, but Jesus, you’re such a momma’s boy but you treat women like shit! Do you realize that? This whole neighborhood: fucking momma’s boys who treat women like shit. It’s maddening.

-No I don’t treat them like shit.

-Yes you do.

-I love all the girls.

-Now why would you say THAT right now?

-OK. Let’s calm down. We’ve been through a lot. A minute ago we thought we were pregnant. Breathe, take my hand. Walk with me to the station and we’ll kiss some track together and it’ll all be cool. Take my hand.

-Don’t touch me, you’re covered in grime.

-Take my hand. Let’s kiss some track.

-Goodnight. I’m sorry for yelling at you.

-[singing] Sorry is a word for the unmindful.

-So help me God.

[Ann goes to bedroom]

-Yo, Little Ann. Wake up. Come kiss some track with your pops.

Next: Don’t Let That Cat In The Clubhouse

Anyone who has read newspapers from 1900-’09 knows about The Black Horse Choker, a serial rapist and murderer who rode around Columbus on a black horse and choked his victims after raping them. Dispatch reporter/cartoonist Hal Johnston coined the nickname because Reginald Droms, the madman’s real name, didn’t sell papers. The Black Horse Choker wasn’t Reginald’s first nickname. As a young man with a squeaky voice, he was called Squeaks. He was also called Wheels for being a star sprinter at Westerville High and The Pit for drinking more than anyone he ever drank with. Reginald’s fifth and final nickname was Stephen Carrot. That’s what he began calling himself once he grew a beard and fled to Toronto in 1912. His boss at the quarry called him Stephen Carrot. So did his wife and mother in-law and daughters. Stephen Carrot was killed by a dynamite explosion in 1940; Reginald Droms died of liver failure in 1951; and The Black Horse Choker was considered a threat to Columbusians throughout the ’60s. Grandma’s Euchre partner wouldn’t shop alone out of fear of being raped and choked by The Black Horse Choker.

I had an extra ticket to the Hello Surf show so I posted “Who wants a ticket to Georgia’s show tonight?” Z was the only person to reply.

[In the back of the room, beers in hands, the dudes bob along to “You Are Good.”]

-She sounds great tonight.

-Yeah she does. We used to go out.

-Cool.

-It was cool. Until it wasn’t, if you know what I mean.

-I do.

-I practically wrote this song, too.

-Oh yeah?

-Yeah. I mean, I would never ask for money or credit or anything. Knowing is enough.

-I kinda feel the same way about my shirts.

-I meant to say, I really like your shirts. And your website. The one with the big old computer is really good.

-The ENIAC.

-The what?

-ENIAC. E. N. I. A. C. The first computer, built in 1946 or ‘47 or ‘48 or whatever.

-‘48 sounds right. So how do you make them?

-The shirts? A company does it for me.

-That’s awesome.

-And you design them?

-No, this guy I used to live with does.

-Awesome.

-You want one?

-A shirt?

-Yeah, you want an ENIAC shirt?

-For free?

-Yeah.

-Sure, thanks.

-Well, not totally free. How about a free shirt for Georgia’s phone number?

-Dude. No.

-Come on, why not?

-You can find her online if you want.

-That’s too creepy.

-And giving her ex a free ENIAC T-shirt in exchange for her phone number isn’t?

-She doesn’t have to know about the shirt.

-Are the shirts comfy?

-Super-comfy.

-For real?

-For real. People pay thirty bucks for these. What size are you?

-Medium most of the time.

-Medium it is.

[Both dudes do a phone-check.]

-Does she like to be called Georgia or Hello Surf?

-Hello Surf is the band, Georgia is the person. At least I think so.

-It’s hard to tell sometimes.

-Yeah. Like, Pictureplane: band or person?

-Who knows?

[Both dudes do a phone-check.]

-Person.

-Person.

Next: We Kissed The Track

Luke and Dr. Philbin are sitting on the driveway near the bobber. There is a case of Bud between them.

Philbin: Beer?

Luke: Yes, please.

[He hands him one and Luke opens it.]

Luke: Am I drinking alone here?

Philbin: I don’t drink beer. So I’m glad I came over. Looks like you need help with her.

Luke: She’s coming along OK I think.

Philbin: Coming. Along. What’s this stuff?

Luke: That’s bug and tar remover.

Philbin: Right. The old bug and tar. Bug. And. Tar. So. Let’s get to it!

Luke: OK.

Philbin: What are we working on today?

Luke: Cleaning the exhaust tube.

Philbin: Cleaning. The. Exhaust tube. Righteous.

[Philbin picks up the bug and tar and the rag and begins cleaning the exhaust tube.]

Philbin: She is quite the fixer-upper, isn’t she?

Luke: Yup.

Philbin: She’s a beaut, though. A rugged beaut. I suppose I could have spent more time on her.

Luke: Guess so.

Philbin: Hey. You know what you should do?

Luke: What?

Philbin: Once you get her in fighting shape, you should get some boots. For riding.

Luke: You think so?

[Philbin puts down the bug and tar.]

Philbin: Oh yeah. Get some Alpinestars. Those are the good ones.

Luke: Alp—what?

Philbin: Alpine. Stars. One word. You got a pen?

Luke: Yeah.

[He hands Philbin a pen]

Philbin: Paper?

Luke: No, but I could go inside–

Philbin: Give me your hand.

[Philbin writes Alpinestars on Luke’s hand.]

Luke: Thanks. Did you, or do you, have Alpinestars?

Philbin: Nah. I have Golden Geese.

Luke: Are those good too?

Philbin: Golden Geese are the best. Mine cost four hundred dollars, and that was in 1982. In today’s money that’s at least eight hundred. How about this: you buy them off me for six hundred.

Luke: I don’t think I need the best.

Philbin: They’re practically brand new.

Luke: I’m not even sure I need boots. And what size are you?

Philbin: Oh, you need boots. But don’t think it’s all ABOUT the boots. Because it’s not.

Luke: Right.

Philbin: It’s about the…

[Philbin picks up the dirty rag and stares into it.]

Luke: What?

Philbin: What?

Luke: What’s it about?

Philbin: That is for you to figure out. Hey-o!

[Sarah comes outside with a can of Bud and a cocktail.]

Sarah: Who wants some… oh, you already have your beer.

Philbin: Luke’s taken care of, but I could use some medicine.

[Sarah hands her dad the drink.]

Sarah: Look at my men. Working hard, getting dirty. I love it.

[She goes inside. Luke picks up the bug and tar and cleans.]

Philbin: Another thing to start thinking about: your jacket.

Luke: I actually have been thinking about the jacket.

Philbin: Good. You know what? It’s Golden Goose.

Luke: What is?

Philbin: The boot. Goose. Not Geese. I was saying Golden Geese but it’s actually Golden Goose.

Next: Medium Most of the Time