Kilgore
and his brother Boo Hutch were two of the roughest customers in the Dismal
Swamps. Both wore their hair long and combed back into a 'Ducktail'. They
always had a pack of Bull Durham tobacco in their shirt pockets and the
string with the round paper tab was always hanging on the outside of that
pocket. They wore heavy engineers boots that were shod with steel toe and heel
taps and the boys called them 'stompin' boots'. Their shirtsleeves would be
rolled up two laps and you would never find them without a toothpick stuck in
the comer of their mouths. If a moonshine still got robbed or a hog stolen or the
general store broken into, the High Sheriff always paid them a visit first, but
he always had 2 or 3 deputies with him when he went.
One hot summer day,
Kilgore came riding up Main Street in Selma, NC on one of the prettiest
motorcycles I have ever seen and was it throwing up a nice plume of dust
behind him. He revved the motor and kicked it into a slide and skidded right up
to the boardwalk in front of the General Store. What part of the
motorcycle that wasn't chromed was pure, snow white. It had a 2 cycle, upright motor
on it and had 2 spark plugs even though both of them were on top of the
only cylinder on the motor. It was some kinda pretty and would do a top speed of 45 mph. This was in the days when the national speed limit was only 35. On
the side of the gas tank was emblazoned "Simplex Service Cycle" with
the wings of eagles sprouting behind those words. A belt ran from the
motor up to a clutch assembly and then a bigger belt went from that clutch to a
big pulley that went around the rim of the rear wheel. I wanted that
motorcycle some kinda bad.
About 3 months later I was over to the roadhouse and
a few of us boys were in the back room, tugging on a little shine and
playing poker. About 10 that night here come Kilgore. He joined in the game and
it won't very long till it was just him and me playing stud poker, no limit (which won't very much for us). We had a couple of good hands between us
and finally up came one hand in which Kilgore was showing 3 of a kind
and I was showing an Ace high spade flush. Kilgore bet a couple of times
and on the last card I hit it with everything I had. Kilgore studied long and
hard and finally in the face of that flush he folded. As I was raking in
the pot I let my hold card "accidentally" turn over and it showed the
3 of hearts. I had won that pot on a busted flush. Kilgore got really
quiet and I could see that he was about as mad as I have ever seen him get
without someone getting hurt. He didn't say a word and we kept playing. About
7:00 am I was starting to get a little tuckered but Kilgore would not stop.
Then on the next hand he was showing 4 cards to a straight and was betting
pretty heavy. I was showing 4 cards to a diamond flush and didn't raise any,
but wouldn't fold. On the last card I placed a modest bet and Kilgore called
and raised by sliding all of his money into the middle of the table. I
called, then I raised by putting my Winchester 30-30 on top of the pile.
Kilgore had to call or fold. He got a thoughtful look on his face and slowly
slid his wallet out and took out the registration paper to the Simplex motorcycle. I
nodded my acceptance and with a chortle he turned over an Ace to give
him a high straight. The boys standing around all sighed and it looked like my
Winchester was going home with Kilgore this day. With fingers that trembled
ever so slightly, I turned over the Ace of Diamonds for a straight
flush. If you would ever like to see that Simplex Motorcycle, jest stop on
by. It’s as pretty as the day I got it.
Bob Gurkin
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