Only Cheat the Cheaters

One of the fondest memories I have of my father, is when we loaded up his pickup with several jugs of water, and tried to pass it off to unsuspecting roobs as moonshine.

                You see, the way the con worked was you filled only the row of jugs at the end of the tailgate with actual moonshine – ya know so the marks can sample the product.

Oh and you needed a good tarp. It may seem like a minor detail, but the little things help, because you’d always have a local that would think he was clever and he might ask, “Why you haulin’ around moonshine out in the open like that, what if’n you get stopped by the law?” And trust me; the only way to respond to that question is by showing them a tarp, proving that you were hiding something.

 

The trick was to unload the whole lot to one unsuspecting customer. At a price that was a deal, but not low enough to draw suspicion.

If all went to plan we’d make a quick $100 off of $10 worth of mason jars and maybe $12 of shine. If it didn’t, say we got fingered by some lucky SOB that recognized us from the previous town…We’ll let’s just say it made for exciting times. Ever had a whole town turn on you, start shouting for your blood and calling you a snake oil salesman?

Really, those were the best times; it was just me and my father against the world. With nothing but our wits and each other to rely on, rarely have I felt so alive.

Dad would always make sure to pass on tidbits of knowledge to me from time to time as well. Gems like, “Only cheat the cheaters, boy. You can't cheat an honest man!” Ahh, the good times, I miss ‘em.

Does this scene sound familiar? If so, it’s because it is largely taken from the 1967 film “The Flim Flam Man”.  If you haven’t seen it, it stars George C. Scott (Yes, Patton) as Mordecai Jones a confidence man who takes a young army deserter under his wing. My dad and I never lived it, but we sure watched it together. It was one of the first movies I can recall seeing with him at home (on an archaic device known as a V-C-R).

Really, those were the best times; it was just me and my father. Now, he relies on me to keep his memory alive.