The welcome arch spanned the two lanes and looked sturdy enough to drive a tank across. The rest of Church Street proceeds a half-a-mile or so from the sign to James Street and the middle of the village. This street and many of the adjoining side streets conjured up images of a quaint New England town with a profusion of oaks and maples surrounding well kept, two story, wooden-framed houses. The Village maintained a strip of grass between the curb and the sidewalks that run parallel to the street on both sides. The areas close to the houses typically displayed neatly trimmed scrubs and flowers.
“I’m ready to get checked into our motel then the rest of you can do whatever you want until dinnertime,” Mom said.
We turned left onto Crossman Street midway between the arch and downtown and proceeded to the Maple Crest Motel.
It was after five when we finished checking-in, which was a good thing because Mr. Root was only a part-time caretaker but had a full time job refinishing boats at Hutchinson’s Boat Works. His workday had ended at the same time we got to town. Consequently he was available to help us attempt to get the Buzz running. Mr. Root’s son, Wilford, and Wilford’s wife, Kay, owned the Maple Crest adding to the convenience and family atmosphere. The Motel’s location was just up the street from Otter Creek and Wilford’s dock where Buzz was tied up.
Kay called her father-in-law to let him know we had arrived. While we waited, my dad, Wilford, and I chatted in the motel