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.
