In Memory of J.B. Milano


Floyd Braswell gets his Revenge

Floyd Braswell was several years younger than John Milano and me. John and I worked part time for the Johnson brothers at their service station washing cars and pumping gas. We were seniors in high school and Floyd was a sophomore. His dad had died and Floyd was always trying to find ways to help his mother out with finances. The Johnson brothers hired him on Saturdays to help us wash cars. Floyd was an avid baseball player and had dreams of making the big leagues. His neighbor Mr. Clarkson on the other hand was a mean old man that complained about everything. Mr. Clarkson drove a four door 1948 Buick straight eight and bought his gas and had it serviced at our gas station. We never did anything right. When we serviced and washed his car he would complain and knit pick our work. More that one time Pete Johnson the younger brother who was part owner came close to tell him to take his business else where. Mr. Clarkson sold real estate and drove customers around in his car making sells. Floyd from time to time would hit a ball over the fence into Mr. Clarkson's back yard and Mr. Clarkson refused to give him the ball back.

One Saturday Johns old brother David came by the station on his way home from hunting to get gas and show off his kill of rabbits. John went out to pump gas for David. He came back with a grin on his face. Whats up; I ask John? John made a deal with his brother to bring his car back for a free wash and in return to bring us rabbit guts. What are you going to do with the rabbit guts I ask. Mr. Clarkson's Buick is sitting out on the lot to be washed and I'm going to give him a little gift. About an hour later David came up in his Chevy for the free car wash and John put it at the front of the line. We washed it and removed the rabbit guts. The next car to be washed was the four door 1948 Buick of Mr. Clarkson. While in the wash pit the hood was opened and rabbit blood and guts were poured into the oil spout. The rest was stuffed of the tail pipe. The car was returned to the station lot clean and ready for pickup.

Monday morning Mr. Clarkson pulled into the station and told Pete that he must have run over an animal and stink was so bad you couldn't stand to ride in it. Wash it while I wait I got a full day and need my car. Pete told him to pull it in the wash pit. He got Melvin and Larry to give it a quick wash to remove the smell. No matter how much they scrubbed the smell would not go away. Finally Pete told Mr. Clarkson that odor had got in the pores of the metal and there was no way to get the smell out. Mr. Clarkson left with all the window down headed to the Buick dealership. As to what happened to the Buick I don't know. Mr. Clarkson traded for a 1954 Buick Roadmaster.

Floyd Braswell was never told of his revenge and we started servicing the 1954 Buick Roadmaster.