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My father related the story to Officer MacAdoo. Mom and the kids were out, and dad was home alone. About an hour earlier, four Frenchmen in black and white striped shirts, red neckerchiefs, and black berets had barged in demanding to know where Reginald was. They all...

I was really starting to get the hang of this car—starting, stopping. We cruised along with the wind in our hair at double the posted speed limit but there was no one around to notice. My anxiety began to turn to joy feeling the intoxication that driving an extremely...

The engine roared to life like a rampant tiger. Birds fled screaming in every direction. Barn cats darted into holes and their blind kittens were sent tumbling. Even the trees wanted to pull up their roots and run, but instead just shivered in horror

Ringo picked up the kerosene lantern from the table and signaled Dimity and me to follow. He strode over to a storage vault in the dark interior regions of the barn, an area so cloaked in shadows that I had not noticed before. Rotting wood planks partitioned off a...

First, a word about my darling girl because, well, I was fourteen and every moment swirling around in a maelstrom of hormones. The look of fear and the tears streaming down Dimity’s face momentarily brought about a seismic collapse of my basic motor skills. I was...

Uncle Ringo stiffened but said nothing as the two men approached. When they came into our lamplight I saw that the taller one, his upper body approximating a rain barrel, was in a white button-down with the sleeves rolled up and somewhat comically sporting a black...

The overcast sky brooded low over us and I had to lock my fingers together around Ringo’s chest to keep from flying off the back of the motorcycle. “Where’s the Lancia?” I shouted, but even if he could have heard me he seemed to be in no condition to answer. In...

Most of us loved Uncle Ringo. He was the cool uncle if there ever was one. He'd lived in Venice for a couple of months last summer and brought back with him an Italian sports car—not at all legal on American streets—a Lancia D24 with the famous double wishbone...

The next morning was overcast and cold. Soggy trees dripped as mournfully as the runny noses of chastened children. The storm had been brutal. The earth held a grudge against the sky. Only the grackles and turkey buzzards hopped around gleefully in the gloom. Black...

The Saragossa Bottling Company began on a rainy Tuesday night in our dank cinderblock basement when my uncle Ringo mixed West Coast hop vodka, juice of dallis grass, greengage extract, lavender tea and a tablespoon of Marmite. An unusual combination, certainly. But...