Block · one region of the page, as the scanner read it. It may hold a whole story, part of one, several, or an advertisement; stitching blocks into articles is the next step. Text is supplied OCR.
Page 6 · column 2 of 5 · from the scan, no model involved
“WELL, CHARLIE,” Ed said, “what do you think? The way this rain’s coming down there’s no telling how high the water may get.”
“Ed,” I replied, “I’m going to move the trailer. Have you any idea where I can take it?”
“Hell, yes,” he bellowed. “If you can back this rig up the road I’ll show you a level spot in the road where you can park it for the night.”
It was necessary to shout in order to be heard above the noise of the falling rain and the cascading river. The water was now beginning to break over the deck of the bridge.
RETURNING to the trailer I called to my wife to get dressed and help guide the movement of the trailer as I backed it up the road.
When Beverly got outside she said, “What a mess! Mr. Pawley, do you think the water might reach the road?”
“Most assuredly, Mrs. Jackson. Would you want me to take you to a neighbor of mine on higher ground?”
“No, thank you, sir. I prefer to stay with my husband.”
They took places along the road while I started the Ford and began to back out.
DURING the 20 or 30 minutes it took me to back up that hill, the rain never let up. The, driver’s side of the car was getting soaked inside. I had to drive with the window open in order to see where I was going. Cold water was running off my hat and down my neck and I felt miserable. With a little jockeying I had the trailer and car off the side of the road, leaving plenty of room for any vehicle that might come by.
It was now nearly 7 a.m. and we three thoroughly soaked individuals decided to split company.
DAYLIGHT had not yet come, so, we switched on the parking lights. This lit up the trailer’s outside like a Christmas tree. This was for our own safety.
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