Young Paden's Dose of Instant Karma

When you're a kid life presents its little lessons to you in bite size portions. As I look back on some of these lessons, they weren't really as outrageous as they seemed at the time. And such was the lesson I learned about a not-so-honest business deal that quickly went south on me.

One of the seemingly permanent possessions that I remember my brothers and I had was a run out old '60 Allstate moped. At one time it had actually been tagged and it was Cole's transportation to school and work. As Holden grew into his own, it was his steed for a while. By the time my legs could reach the pedals it had fallen into disrepair. It suffered from the use and abuse that my two brothers (and every one of their friends) could dish out. It had been piled up against curbs and bushes and sported gravel rash from the many times we had slid it over in the driveway just for fun. Holden had parked it when an electrical problem robbed it of its lights and dependability. The engine was prone to quit mysteriously in an instant. It might restart in a minute, maybe it might be a day. It was fickle. It wound up leaning against the back wall of the garage with a rotted tarp draped over it.

Since it was now technically mine (by default) I hatched a plan to bring it back to life and profit from the sale. All I had to do was get it running again and then find a schmuck with money that wanted it. Nothing like a solid business plan, right?

I don't remember how I figured it out, but there was a short in the magneto and maybe a bad condenser. After I had done my best to rectify the electrics it was all just simple repairs. And before long the moped was ready for sale. Except for one thing....it didn't have much power. After all the abuse my brothers had inflicted on the poor thing, the motor was just worn out with hardly any compression. There was a hill or two in the neighborhood that it could not get up. The gasoline had to be pre-mixed with 2 stroke oil and it smoked like a chimney. About all I could do was install a new spark plug and hope for the best.

But there was one 'last resort' that might save the day...

Somewhere in the Cash boys' bag of secrets we had learned that mothballs added to the gas of a recip engine would boost its performance. I believe our first test platform was an old Clinton or Tecumseh engine on a go-kart. We had determined it would actually increase an engine's performance. We had also determined it worked better on two-strokes than four-strokes. AND we had also determined it would 'eat' the motor quickly from within. After a day or two of running with mothballs added to the fuel, the engines usually quit running with a hole burned in the top of a piston.

I recently watched an episode of "Mythbusters" on the tube where the two hosts weren't real sure if mothballs would increase performance. I'm here to testify it really does with two-strokes, but with dire consequences.

I found a suitable victim to buy the old moped. A kid down the street, Kenny, had more money than sense and wanted to get out on the street. I took his $25 and he rode off into the sunset with a blast of bluish white smoke (and the subtle odor of mothballs) trailing behind...we were both happy....until the next day.

Kenny's father appeared on our doorsteps the next evening. He and Pops stood out under the elm tree in front and talked about God-only-knows what. Afterwards Pops came in and told me to give back Kenny his $25. Kenny was pushing the scooter up the street and into our driveway. I had no options, Pops demands were edict. My get-rich-quick scheme quickly turned to easy-come-easy-go....But it really wasn't the mothballs that killed the sale; Kenny just didn't have his father's blessing for the deal. And when you're a kid, folks can pull rank on your business.

And of course the scooter had quit running. Apparently the mothballs and gasoline concoction created a caustic reaction and the little tin carburetor float bowl had developed a hole the size of a nickel eaten out of the bottom. And there was no telling what the brew had done to the piston. I was now the proud owner of a 1960 Allstate doorstop. Big whoop...

Twenty-five bucks was just about a month's earning with a paper route back then. I felt all sorts of screwed and hated how things turned out like I had been wronged with some great injustice. It took me a good long time to realize shady business dealings can blow up in your face...with nobody to blame but yourself. Karma was actually being nice to young Paden.

A lesson in life, well learned at a young age. 😉