Mozart, Bach and Nachmanovitch swirled in the heights of the Rockway Volunteer Fire Department’s two-story garage. Bill shuffled his feet side-to-side skipping about and around Big Ruby Tuesday with a polishing cloth in hand.

He gave rapt attention as the deafening ring and clanking chime of the fire alarm edified the classic crescendo in the air.

“We got a live one fellas!” squelched the intercom.

“Well what are we waiting for?” Bill said to himself, dropping the cleaning rag in a box at the foot of his locker.

His boots were on and he was about to buckle his coat, when the intercom squealed once again:

“It’s not hot. – Don’t worry ‘bout the coat, Bill. – But, keep those boots on, Billy – This one’s on the beach.”

Bill was in the cab turning the key and starting the Engine, before the Fire Chief’s playful taunting had half-the-way ended. He sat his Fireman’s hat beside him on the roomy bench seat.

Frank jumped onto the passengers’ side swinging the door closed as Big Ruby Tuesday left the station.