He has so much stuff in his house, said Jean.
But with a mind like his you never know how that stuff will be used, said Regis, I mean using a hairdryer as a bellows or a dildo to agitate water and oil or vice grips as a steering wheel. We look at an object and see one or two uses for it, and he sees five or six.
Like I said, I think he looked at the trestle, and knew he could do it, said Jean.
I’ve never heard what gave him the idea, said Regis.
The story around town is it was a bet of some kind, said Jean, I bet Frenchy could tell us.
When Frenchy stopped being busy, the men waved him over.
Frenchy, do you know anything about how Bronson got the idea for the fly under? asked Jean.
Ah, oui, he was sitting where you are now, and Mike O’Toole said that the railroad was shutting down, and unless the town wanted the trestle, they would tear it down, and Bronson said he could fly a plane under it, and O’Toole laughed at him, and Bronson got mad, and said,
I’ll bet you a hundred dollars I can,
and O’Toole said,
You’re on.
The wager was all anybody could talk about, and it was the talk of the club for about a week after that – many of the jokesters saying how Bronson couldn’t stay sober long enough to catch a bus, never mind, fly a plane under the trestle. I watch these men laugh, and I know they are jealous of him because the truth is, he was successful and wealthy, and I had no doubt he knew what he was doing because he is un homme intelligent.
And O’Toole is the biggest blowhard in town, said Lyle.
He was drunk, I know he was, grumbled Claude.
See what I mean? asked Frenchy.
I wonder if O’ Toole ever paid off? questioned Jean.
Are you serious? He’s as tight as a crab’s ass, and that’s waterproof.
The men laughed at the bartender.
Actually, I’d heard another version of what happened, said Lyle. There was this man named Eugene Flatters who was an elderly flight instructor at the Fitchburg airport who taught Bronson how to fly. Bronson and this man developed a very close relationship – I’m thinking he was a surrogate father for Bronson, that sort of thing. Eugene died, and Bronson was heart-broken, and vowed never to fly again. He wanted his last flight to be a spectacular one and flying under the trestle would certainly be that.