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Spaceways, v. 4, issue 1, whole no. 24, December 1941
4
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SPACEWAYS 4 THE LOG OF THE FOOFOO SPECIAL or THE FANTASY BOYS OUT WEST by ART WIDNER JR I could never feel the same about an automobile as I did about The Skylark of WooWoo, so I cannot dedicate this article to its successor. The FooFoo Special is just another car. Instead, this article is dedicated to one of my companions on the Denver expedition. A swell guy; one that I am proud to know. Altho the hardships we endured were entirely new to him, he went thru it all uncomplainingly and with good humor. The easiest guy to get along with that I ever met, but never a yes-man in any sense of the word. A wicked hand with the roadmap, his aid was invaluable in getting thru large cities with a minimum of effort and lost time. And so I deem it only fitting and proper that I dedicate this account of our Denveride To Milty ........................................ June 29th-Up betimes, and in my haste did shake hands with my mother, pat my father on the back, and kiss the cat goodbye. Then I did start the engine of our noble craft and dashed to the Towne of Whitman for first passenger John Bell. Because of recently installed new Bergenholms we could not attain a speed of more than 40 mph without endangering the motor. New York was reached without incident, and we circled around Riverside Drive and environs for 15 minutes, before locating L.S. de Camp's address. We were cordially welcomed in and had the pleasure of meeting Mr. Isaac "Nightfall" Asimov, better known in the fan underworld as I, Asimov. It was most difficult to break away after an hour or so of typical de Camp conversation. We were initiated into many of the mysteries of fonetix, naval equipment and tactics, and yhos became even more of an admirer of his host when LS presented him with two steinies of his favorite brew. In fact, we were just getting warmed up when Time decided we had better leave for Futurian Embassy and then Philly. Outside of de Camp's we had been unable to find a parking space other than a a 90° hill, and all the gas drained back from the carburator. No start. Widner hunted a garage, stood around waiting for someone to appear, and was mistaken for the attendant by five other customers who wanted their cars out, and snappy too. Working in a service station for a year must have given him a certain look. He politely told them to go to Hell, and snappy too. With Unger aboard, conversation assumed a machine-gun quality, started by Julie and adopted in self-defense by the other two. So we ran off our route for three or four miles into the wilds of Moskoville. We arrived in Philly just in time to witness Bob Madle and Johnny Baltadonis finish off a game of darts and a large pitcher of beer. Several more pitchers were obtained, and a bull session ensued, lasting until 1 AM. Y correspondent spent a restless night pushing Unger back to his side of
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SPACEWAYS 4 THE LOG OF THE FOOFOO SPECIAL or THE FANTASY BOYS OUT WEST by ART WIDNER JR I could never feel the same about an automobile as I did about The Skylark of WooWoo, so I cannot dedicate this article to its successor. The FooFoo Special is just another car. Instead, this article is dedicated to one of my companions on the Denver expedition. A swell guy; one that I am proud to know. Altho the hardships we endured were entirely new to him, he went thru it all uncomplainingly and with good humor. The easiest guy to get along with that I ever met, but never a yes-man in any sense of the word. A wicked hand with the roadmap, his aid was invaluable in getting thru large cities with a minimum of effort and lost time. And so I deem it only fitting and proper that I dedicate this account of our Denveride To Milty ........................................ June 29th-Up betimes, and in my haste did shake hands with my mother, pat my father on the back, and kiss the cat goodbye. Then I did start the engine of our noble craft and dashed to the Towne of Whitman for first passenger John Bell. Because of recently installed new Bergenholms we could not attain a speed of more than 40 mph without endangering the motor. New York was reached without incident, and we circled around Riverside Drive and environs for 15 minutes, before locating L.S. de Camp's address. We were cordially welcomed in and had the pleasure of meeting Mr. Isaac "Nightfall" Asimov, better known in the fan underworld as I, Asimov. It was most difficult to break away after an hour or so of typical de Camp conversation. We were initiated into many of the mysteries of fonetix, naval equipment and tactics, and yhos became even more of an admirer of his host when LS presented him with two steinies of his favorite brew. In fact, we were just getting warmed up when Time decided we had better leave for Futurian Embassy and then Philly. Outside of de Camp's we had been unable to find a parking space other than a a 90° hill, and all the gas drained back from the carburator. No start. Widner hunted a garage, stood around waiting for someone to appear, and was mistaken for the attendant by five other customers who wanted their cars out, and snappy too. Working in a service station for a year must have given him a certain look. He politely told them to go to Hell, and snappy too. With Unger aboard, conversation assumed a machine-gun quality, started by Julie and adopted in self-defense by the other two. So we ran off our route for three or four miles into the wilds of Moskoville. We arrived in Philly just in time to witness Bob Madle and Johnny Baltadonis finish off a game of darts and a large pitcher of beer. Several more pitchers were obtained, and a bull session ensued, lasting until 1 AM. Y correspondent spent a restless night pushing Unger back to his side of
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