*cough, cough* Oh, my aching u-joints! I've been sitting here so long my tires have dry-rot. My windows are so dirty, they blur my view of the highway. Oh, the highway. I remember the day I came of the production line. Shiny, fire-engine red paint job with sparkling chrome. I was hotter than a two-dollar pistol! That new car smell would make your mouth water. When that young GI slid behind my wheel for the first time, I knew he was sold. Who could resist the purr of my engine? I could feel it when he rubbed his hands around my steering wheel. He was trying me on. I knew this one was special. I could sense a nomadic spirit that would take us from the lighthouses of Maine to the flat sandy beaches of California. He treated me with kid gloves. Every week, he'd pull out the bucket and sponge and rub my surface until it shined like a diamond. Armor-all for the tires and dash were like Oil of Olay for my complexion. That first road trip was the best. It was scary leaving the warmth of my garage, but as soon as we passed over the Mississippi and into God's country it was as if the horses were unleashed. The radio was playing the soundtrack of our freedom. I could feel him relax into my seat as he put his arm out of the window. I loved those trips! Once a month, the same thing, I'd get my weekly bath, then he would load up a duffel bag into my back seat and we'd set out to see the country that he served for so many years. Sometimes, he'd bring a friend. They would laugh and talk about Europe, farming, women, football. The three of us - wild and free. Then one day, he brought along a new friend. A girl. She smelled sweet and her scent overpowered the new car smell that you could just barely make out. Eventually, our weekend road trips became fewer and far between, replaced with drive-in movies and cruise-ins. One day, we drove to the church, his friends tied string with tin cans to my bumper. My windows were painted over with words - "Just Married." Shortly thereafter, a baby was joining us on our trips, then a second baby. I was moved out to a new garage. This one was scary! The warmth of my old garage was gone. At night, I could hear creatures scurrying around, checking me out for nesting. The weekly car washes were gone. Every once in a while he would come out to the shed and open up my doors. He'd slide behind that wheel, but it didn't feel quite the same. He was older now, I could tell that he had more responsibility and didn't have time to take me out the way we used to. Then one day, a much older version of my driver came out to the shed. I could tell that the years had been good to him, much better than they had to me. He tried to turn over my engine. Embarassingly, I sputtered. No more purring. Another gentleman appeared with a tow truck. They hooked me up and I saw them pass something between them. My driver handed over the keys and gave me one last parting rub on my rear fender. My new owner pulled away with me hooked up to the tow hook. We drove for a while, the wind rushing over my curves reminded me of those road trips. My axles started to ache after a few miles. Finally, we arrived at our destination. As we pulled through the gate I couldn't believe my headlights! There were hundreds of other cars just like me! As we passed down the aisle, they looked my way. The sadness in their headlights spoke volumes to me. I knew this was it - the end of the road.
*cough, cough* Oh, my aching u-joints! I've been sitting here so long my tires have dry-rot. My windows are so dirty, they blur my view of the highway.
ReplyDeleteOh, the highway. I remember the day I came of the production line. Shiny, fire-engine red paint job with sparkling chrome. I was hotter than a two-dollar pistol!
That new car smell would make your mouth water. When that young GI slid behind my wheel for the first time, I knew he was sold. Who could resist the purr of my engine? I could feel it when he rubbed his hands around my steering wheel. He was trying me on. I knew this one was special. I could sense a nomadic spirit that would take us from the lighthouses of Maine to the flat sandy beaches of California.
He treated me with kid gloves. Every week, he'd pull out the bucket and sponge and rub my surface until it shined like a diamond. Armor-all for the tires and dash were like Oil of Olay for my complexion.
That first road trip was the best. It was scary leaving the warmth of my garage, but as soon as we passed over the Mississippi and into God's country it was as if the horses were unleashed. The radio was playing the soundtrack of our freedom. I could feel him relax into my seat as he put his arm out of the window.
I loved those trips! Once a month, the same thing, I'd get my weekly bath, then he would load up a duffel bag into my back seat and we'd set out to see the country that he served for so many years. Sometimes, he'd bring a friend. They would laugh and talk about Europe, farming, women, football. The three of us - wild and free.
Then one day, he brought along a new friend. A girl. She smelled sweet and her scent overpowered the new car smell that you could just barely make out.
Eventually, our weekend road trips became fewer and far between, replaced with drive-in movies and cruise-ins.
One day, we drove to the church, his friends tied string with tin cans to my bumper. My windows were painted over with words - "Just Married."
Shortly thereafter, a baby was joining us on our trips, then a second baby. I was moved out to a new garage. This one was scary! The warmth of my old garage was gone. At night, I could hear creatures scurrying around, checking me out for nesting. The weekly car washes were gone. Every once in a while he would come out to the shed and open up my doors. He'd slide behind that wheel, but it didn't feel quite the same. He was older now, I could tell that he had more responsibility and didn't have time to take me out the way we used to.
Then one day, a much older version of my driver came out to the shed. I could tell that the years had been good to him, much better than they had to me. He tried to turn over my engine. Embarassingly, I sputtered. No more purring. Another gentleman appeared with a tow truck. They hooked me up and I saw them pass something between them. My driver handed over the keys and gave me one last parting rub on my rear fender. My new owner pulled away with me hooked up to the tow hook. We drove for a while, the wind rushing over my curves reminded me of those road trips. My axles started to ache after a few miles.
Finally, we arrived at our destination. As we pulled through the gate I couldn't believe my headlights! There were hundreds of other cars just like me! As we passed down the aisle, they looked my way. The sadness in their headlights spoke volumes to me. I knew this was it - the end of the road.
Sorry, I know that was kind of a long story, but I got on a roll!
ReplyDeleteKristina that was so sweet and sad! I was teary-eyed at the end. Beautiful.
ReplyDelete"God bless America, Murphy! What the hell were you thinking? Hey Jim, I know where we can get us a truck. You moron."
ReplyDelete" Hey, don't blame me! How was I supposed to know?"
"I swear to god, could you just for once use that puddle of spit you call brains? Look at this thing! It ain't run for years."
"Okay okay, I said I was sorry. When I heard those old guys at the filling station talking about a sweet little red truck..."
"Yea, well we're here now. Way out of our way and it's almost dark. What brilliant plan d'ya got now?"
"Dark is good right? The cops won't be looking for us till morning."
"Hmm, maybe you're right. But I'm starving."
"Sure, me too. Let's head over to the farmhouse."
"I don't know. It's a risk."
"Oh, it's okay. I heard those geezers talking. They was saying, Yep, tonight Leslie's having the girls over for that famous pot roast.
"I could eat some pot roast. With some girls."
"Hahaha, you're funny Jim."
"Yea, a real Milton Berle. You just shut up and let me do the talking."
"Sure Jim, no problem."
"Hello? Anybody home? Miz Leslie?"
"Howdy there boys. What can I do ya for?"
"Um, we was lookin' for Leslie."
"That would be me."
"But you're a ..."
"Man? Yep, it sure was a hard name to swallow. Guess that's why I became the sheriff around here."
"..."
"Why don't you two come on in and meet my deputies. Folks around here call them the girls. Pretty funny huh?