Jim Lowe a écrit une histoire retraçant la construction du Spumoni Flyer à la manière de Moore. C'est bien entendu complètement intraduisible, mais nous vous la livrons in extenso pour le plaisir de compléter l'article paru dans Voie Libre n°121.
The Spumoni Flyer
An E. L. Moore style Story
Now, if E. L. Moore had written an article about how he had built the Flyer back in his 1960s heyday he would have introduced the project with a little fictional story something like this one:
Cousin Cal and the boys pulled my old Coach into the siding even later than usual last night. This time though Cal didn’t blame their extra lateness on hooch. It turns out the old 0-4-0 was on its last legs and stalled twice on the way back from the Red Eye Saloon. I was out by the track, waiting, dozing in my rocker under the moonlight when that clunker pulled in and woke me with a terrible racket. Cal jumped outta the loco’s cab and asked me,
“Can you fix her just one more time? Please.”
“I’ll do ya one better”, sez I. “I’ll build ya a brand new one. I gotta nice, new motor bogie all the way from France, and I’m just itchin’ to build somethin’ with it.”
“A new steamer?”, asks Cal.
“Nah, a new Flyer to match that them there Coach,” replies I pointing to the Coach the boys arrived in.
Cal gave me one of his patented beady-eyed squints and asked, “What’s it gonna cost?”
“We’ll talk about that in the mornin’. Right now I’m getting to work.”
About halfway through an article Moore often would continue whatever story he had started in the Introduction. Something, maybe, like this:
It was a long, long night, but I got a good start on the chassis. When Cal wandered by I was dozing in my chair.
“Hey, wake up! I’ve got ya lunch from Ma,” announced Cal and added, “Have you had breakfast?”
Cal handed me a big picnic basket whose delicious aroma could drive a man wild. I ripped into it like a starving wolf. “Thanks” was all I could mumble.
Now that I was distracted by coffee and savoury victuals Cal asked, “How much for the Flyer?”
In a moment of smoky bacon weakness I replied, “Consider it an early Christmas present”, and in a flash of coffee induced sense added, “but give me a couple of those Oom-pah records of yours I like.”
According to the dots and blots I stamped on the calendar it took me two weeks to build the Flyer. Some assemblies were tricky, but the French motor bogie worked great. I had just finished cleaning up the workshop and was leaning against the frame of its open door, staring at the Flyer over on the spur, when Cal walked up with a bag under his arm.
“Do ya got the keys for the Flyer?”, sez Cal. “Do ya got my records?”, sez I. Cal gave me the bag he was carrying and I gave him the Flyer’s keys. We exchanged thank-yous.
I opened the bag and there were the Oom-pah records. After glancing at the liner notes I looked up and saw Cal headed for the Flyer. I shouted after him, “Do you need the training wheels?”
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