Ira Lee talked about his ‘moonshinin’ days. Told me they took some of that cane buck and decided to fortify it. Went and found an empty lard can to cook it in. That thing went to cooking real good - steam flowing up through the copper tubes, when all of a sudden there was a loud bang! The lid blew off - cane juice everywhere! So they got some old bricks and piled them on top to hold it down. Pretty soon it got to cooking again and this time the lid stayed down. After awhile, there was a good bit of distilled cane juice in their jar.
Then, they tried to drink it. What went down had a way of not staying down, and what stayed down had a way of making you not remember much the next day. Plus, it tasted horrible! After the first testing, that stuff just sat there for the next few months, shoved way back under the house. Somebody said to put peppermint candy in it, to help the taste and ease your stomach. So they did. Let it sit again. Tried it one summer night when there wasn’t much to do. Sat out in the watermelon field under a full moon, eating the sweet, pungent hearts. No need to tell you what happened next!
Back under the house it went. About six months later, somebody came up with the bright idea to put fresh apple peels in it. So they did. Let it sit till Christmas. It was cold outside and that great, big white moon was hanging like a pearl in the sky. They took what was left of the cane buck concoction and went down to the boat ramp, where the river danced and sparkled and made the air smell real good. This time, they just sipped a little instead of chugging it. In fact, they got to feeling so good, they lost track of time.
By the time they got started home, it was real late. And just a little bit down the road, they ran out of gas. They knew they’d all be in trouble if they didn’t get home soon, being as how it was Christmas. But, if they all started walking now, it would be morning before they got there. That’s when Ira Lee had his brainstorm. He got the rest of the cane buck out of the trunk and began to pour it into the gas tank. One of them went to hollering “You can’t do that!” But he did anyway. Poured a little in the carburetor, too, and hit the key. The cane buck got them home that night, fixed whatever was wrong with the carburetor, and ran that fifty-four Ford till New Year!
