He was somewhere between the dream of chugging a gallon jug of water, the long cool satisfying drink all the while letting its excess flow down his face and chest, and of the thought of shutting off an annoying light now producing a visual red effect in his line of vision. Opening his eyelids to the offending blast of brightness, causing a flaring blast of irritation, he blinked quickly then brought his hands up to shield him from the sun’s rays.
He had awakened with a start. He brought his head forward for a tense few seconds then eased it back as reality materialized.
For a brief moment he sat perfectly still, allowing his conscious brain to connect with the surroundings. He looked out through the windshield, the flat transparent plate covered with carcasses and splatter of hundreds of insects, and the accumulation of dirt and dust from his many miles of travel. He made a mental note to wash them clean at the next gas station stop.
He had to think briefly on why he was sitting in the passenger side of his car when remembered that the driver’s side seat no longer reclined to any extent.
He kept the thin cotton plaid blanket up around his neck, hoping it would keep out some of the chill of the outside. It was fairly worthless but better than nothing. Since the entire back window was non-existent due to that damned tree falling on the car, the weather came and went as it pleased. Jack sat quietly and tried to remember the previous night.
He shuffled his feet just a little and heard the rattle of cans hitting each other.
“I need to dump out all those empties.” Jack said out loud to no one.
His cottonmouth and parched dried lips unwetted by saliva, offered the impetus to search for one of the beers that may have been untouched. No such luck. And not a drop of water in the car either.
Jack started to wonder what had possessed him to leave the well beaten path after sailing along from Barstow to Baker; most probably because he was well into the twelve pack of sixteen-ounce Coors Light and the brain wasn’t functioning properly.
“Screw it, I think I’ll take 127 to Shoshone through the Mojave Desert. I’m going to take the road less traveled.” He remembered saying.
“I’ll be like Jack Kerouac in that book On the Road once again. Just doing my thing.” He had continued.
Dumb idea. Bad choice. He ran out of beer, had no food, and was sitting in Old Blue in the middle of a desert.
Jack needed to relieve his bladder and pushed open the door.
“Shit, shit, shit!” he muttered to himself.
He looked down to see the loose, soft, ground level was even with the bottom of the door. He quickly got out to see that his beloved 1957 Belair Chevrolet had sunk in the desert sand right up to the chassis. He walked completely around the car examining his situation.
“Crap.” He muttered remembering he had pulled off the road near the Dumont dunes as it was late at night and he felt sleep was taking him over. He barely remembered rocking the old car back and forth in an attempt to free the vehicle from the grips of the desert, then most probably had given up and jumped back the car for the night.
Jack stood emptying his bladder and watched as the yellow stream disappeared immediately into the godforsaken dry earth. Why anyone would want to even live in this country was beyond his comprehension. It was seven o’clock in the morning and he was already sweating. Sweating out the ton of brew he had drunk the night before, he was sure.
He took one more look at the car’s predicament then slid back onto the car seat. He thought briefly that he might be able to stretch out in the back then quickly remembered there was no back seat. He shook his head as he thought about how that had disappeared.
It was one thing after another these past six months or so. Some good, but most not. He pulled his blanket up and closed his eyes to the world. He decided he needed more sleep.
***
“Mommy, where are we going?” little Jackie asked.
The five-year-old was sitting precariously on a plush pillow. It raised his body just high enough so he could see out the window of the big Ford station wagon.
“Don’t worry about it, just enjoy the ride.” Came the answer from his mother, Mavis.
“Where’s Daddy?” came another question.
“Honey, he decided he didn’t want a family anymore so he just left.” His mother said.
The boy turned in his seat to look out the back. He wondered what she meant.
“Mommy, he’s right behind us on the road. I can see Blue.” remarked Jackie.
“No, my friend, Louis is driving that car. Your Daddy said he wanted you to have it so we’re taking it with us.” His mother remarked.
“That’s Daddy’s favorite car. He loves that car.” The boy explained trying to understand.
“Well, I guess you are just wrong, aren’t you.” His mother retorted.
“Now turn around here and sit down. We’ll stop for a hamburger and fries pretty soon.” She added.
****
“Mom, its time to get up. You’ll be late for work.” Jackie yelled through the bedroom door.
She had been warned that the waitress job included being on time for work many times.
He turned back around and sat at the kitchen tablet eating some cold cereal when a big black man walked past him without a nod and left the house. His mother came through the door as she wrapped a house coat around her body.
“I see you found another bum to spend the night with. Which bar was he in?” came an obviously angry and disgusted voice of the teenager.
“Don’t you start on me, young man.” Mavis said as she grabbed a bottle of vodka from the cupboard and poured herself a healthy shot.
“I work hard and I’m entitled to have friends.” She explained.
“Yeah, Louis, who cleaned out your bank account, Maurice, who got you a job in a strip joint so you could keep him in booze, Freddie, who tried to steal Blue but not before slapping me around because I wouldn’t give him the keys, and that greaseball, Vincent, who gave you a chance to be a quality hooker.” Jackie said.
“Who did I miss?” he continued.
“Now, you bring home the flavor of the week after you get piss faced,” He added.
His mother just stared at her son, downed her drink then stormed past him back into the bedroom.
The boy wished his father had never left. He remembered listening to his parents argue at night but didn’t know what about. He would look for him when he got older, he decided.
***
Jack finished putting the tires back on the Chevy after replacing the brake shoes, checking the fluid levels, and replacing a burned-out headlamp. He backed the car out of the garage, walked completely around the vehicle doing a body inspection, then went to work with the car wax.
He had just gotten his driver’s license and took the classic out for a drive that very same day. He found his girl, Mary, walking down the sidewalk, and proudly gave her a ride to her home.
“This was my dad’s pride and joy. He really took good care of it and I thought I would follow his lead.” Jack explained.
“Where is your dad?” came the obvious question.
“I’m not sure, but I have never seen him since my folks split up.” The boy explained.
“I’m so sorry, Jack, that must be kind of tough on you.” Mary said with a sympathetic tone.
“I’ll find him, though, and I’ll drive Blue right up to his front door and blast the horn to let him know his son and his car have arrived.
***
High school graduation was quite anticlimactic. After all the years of study, moving from school to school, town to town, Jack wasn’t really connected to a single classmate. He thought of Mary and the other girls he had gotten to know, but they were far, far, away.
His mother didn’t attend the ceremony. She was in the county jail on a drunk and disorderly charge, not her first one. She claimed some guy had stolen a large amount of money from her purse at a bar, and she started beating on him. Mavis never had a large amount of money, ever. She mooched, begged, then propositioned guys to buy her alcohol. She was a mess and had no desire to change.
“Mom, you’ve got to quit the drinking.” Jack had begged her one evening.
“You’re just like your father!” she screamed in a slurred fog.
“He was always on my case, that’s why I left his sorry ass!” she continued then seemed to freeze at the thought of what she had just said.
“Wait a minute, you left him?” Jack asked.
“All of this time you let me believe he was the bad guy. And you stole Blue from him, too, didn’t you?” he continued.
“Oh, you wouldn’t understand.” His mother said, waved him off, and grabbed her glass half full of whiskey.
Jack reached for the glass out of her hands and threw it at the wall. It shattered and scattered shards everywhere.
“I’m out of here!” screamed Jack, and walked toward his room in the tiny apartment.
He began packing immediately with all his worldly possession. They fit in a large back pack. All he had to show for eighteen years of life.
In twenty-four hours, Blue and Jack were cruising down the highway headed for northern California. The radio was blaring, the windows were rolled down, and the sun reflected spectacularly off the brilliant waxed car hood.
He had withdrawn all of his job earnings, money he had earned from work as a mechanic’s assistant. He figured he could get quite a distance before it was depleted. He’d find a job along the way if need be.
He was free of his mother’s shenanigans, the creeps she would pick up, and the lies he had grown up with. He was going to find his father.
***
The drive through the redwood forest was awesome. The size of the trees was unbelievable. Jack walked around the quiet, almost eerie surroundings, and felt an odd feeling of peace. Absolutely stunning sights of those tall giants filled his vision. He continued down 101 to Trinidad, a small community close to the coast. He slowed in the city limits and saw a couple of young women walking along side the road. He stopped.
“You guys need a ride into town?” Jack asked.
The two girls, flashed big smiles at him. They were dressed simply, loose fitting sandals, no adorning jewelry, long straight hair, and a floral crown on each.
“We just finished selling all of our flowers for the day and are headed back to the community. A ride would be really nice.” one of them suggested.
The tall blonde jumped into the front onto a recently installed bucket seat Jack had installed to accommodate the four on the floor gear shift. Proof of the new the transmission Jack had swapped out after work at the garage. They other, a pretty brunette, in the back.
“Smooth ride, dude.” The girl named Moonbeam said.
“Thanks, I’ve had it for a long time and try to take care of it.” Jack said.
“Where did you say you were going? The community?” Jack asked.
“That’s what we call it. A bunch of people who need to get away from the downer society and just enjoy freedom, friendship, and love.” Moonbeam explained.
“If you aren’t headed in any place in particular, you are welcome to hang with us for a while. Everyone would be glad to see you. What’s your name?” the other girl, Sarah, asked.
“I’m Jack, and yeah, I might just do that.” He said with a bit of enthusiasm.
Jack enjoyed the community. They all worked in wood shops, gardens, or kitchens all the while keeping a happy continence about them. Most of the people were young, older than him but not ancient. There were babies, little kids, and no apparent leader of the group. Jack was given the duty of loading bunches of flowers and wood projects onto ancient pickups that would take the products to towns to be sold. A way of making some money for essentials, they explained. It wasn’t hard work and he enjoyed it.
He saw no evidence of alcohol consumption, but teas and fruit were a typical drink. He laughed along with the others and felt comfortable where he was. Quite different that living with his mother.
One night he sniffed an odd smell that was new to him. He walked down toward the beach and saw a group from the community sitting around a beach fire. They were passing a pipe back and forth from one to another.
“Hey, Jack.” One of the guys said.
“Come on over and sit by the fire. It gets cold when that wind whips in from the ocean. Care to imbibe?” he finished and pointed toward the pipe.
“Guaranteed to smooth things out. Get rid of the kinks of the brain. I mean far out.” He continued.
“Is that marijuana?” Jack asked.
“Dude, it is fine Mary Jane, weed, pot, ganga, dope, hash. Call it whatever you want.”
Jack sat amongst the people and gave it a try. Some chuckled as he coughed and hacked, but told him it was perfectly normal for first times users. In less than an hour, Jack was feeling a new, odd, sensation, of relaxation. In a little more than an hour he was fast asleep on the beach.
Jack would go on to try the drug a few more times but wasn’t that enamored by it. Just part of his traveling experience he decided.
Things continued smoothly for more than a month. One particular night, a huge bonfire was built near the community buildings, a celebration of some celestial happening. There was more than marijuana being passed around and some people were getting a bit crazy. There was a consensus that a few more chairs were needed around the fire as the group stared at the stars. Suddenly the back car seat of Blue was pulled out and set on the ground facing the fire and the ocean night. Jack was a little concerned but knew he could put it back in the next day.
People wandered around the grounds, dancing, singing to guitars, flutes, and drums when suddenly there was a scramble back to the fire. An ember had apparently landed on the car seat and ignited it. The upholstery was quickly disappearing into flames. The seat became no more than a frame and springs attached to it by the time it was extinguished.
The group apologized profusely, but they had no idea how important the car meant to the owner.
Jack sat lamenting the situation a bit away from the group when suddenly Moonbeam and Sarah came and sat next to him.
“I know you must feel bad so Sarah and I wanted to make it up to you.” Said Moonbeam.
“Come with us, but don’t say a word.” Sarah added.
The three stepped into one of the rooms off of the main meeting space. They started to take their clothes off.
“Wait, what are you doing?” Jack asked.
One of the girls put her finger on his lips in a shushing gesture. Soon they were taking his clothes off, too. It was a memorable night for the lad. He had fooled around with a girl in school, but this was on a whole different level. They kept coming at him and didn’t let go until he was completely empty and exhausted.
Jack woke up to an empty bed, found his clothes, and tried to sneak out of the building.
One of the older women, holding a small child, smiled at him.
“I hope you have enough energy to do your chores. They wait for no man.” She grinned.
That was all anyone said. Jack had a few repeat adventures with one girl or another. They were all different, yet content with the openness of sex. That was alright with Jack.
A three month stay proved to be long enough. Jack’s hair was long enough to have a ponytail, he had grown a short scruffy beard, and was deeply tan. He announced his departure, was wished good luck with his quest to find a missing father, and he and Blue slowly drove the winding, dirt road out of the commune.
Jack sighed as he looked at the missing back seat, but smiled at the flower crown that Moonbeam had placed on his head. He would never forget that place.
***
Jack continued his travels down 101, just taking in the scenery and sights. Back roads intrigued him and he took them often, sometimes driving to dead ends and having to back track. Reaching Garberville, he consulted a map and decided to go straight east through hills and forests. He bought some sandwiches, drinks, and munchies to keep him nourished in case he got stranded with an overnight stop. Unfortunately, sleeping the back seat was not an option, but a blanket and a jacket in the trunk would certainly suffice this time of year to keep him comfortable.
Jack rounded a narrow corner and was stopped by a large truck that was blocking the entire road. It appeared to be an older model logging carrier and a man had his head under the hood looking at the engine.
“Engine problems?” Jack said loudly from a distance as to not startle the worker.
“Yep, old truck may have seen it’s last days.” Came an answer from a middle-aged man.
He stepped down off the rig. He was a large man, big arms and working hands. Dirty denim jeans cut high at the ankles, tee shirt, and large suspenders completed the look of an obvious hard-working person.
“You don’t see many Peterbilt trucks that old in the working field anymore, but we’ve nursed this one along for a long time. Was the first big truck my dad bought for his business. I have to say it’s part of the family.” The man said as he walked toward Jack, wiping his hands of grease.
“Names Kaplan, like the sign on the truck door. Gabe Kaplan. I have a logging business in this area.” He added.
“Jack Sundstrom. Glad to meet you.” Jack said and extended his hand.
The man engulfed it with his massive mitt but didn’t squeeze at all.
“Damned muscle nerve problem. Not much of a grip anymore.” He explained.
“What’s going on with the truck.” Jack asked.
He had worked on all kinds of vehicles at the shop the past three or four years. He thought he might be familiar with what was under the hood of the Peterbilt.
“The old thing just started losing power, sputtered, coughed, sighed and died.” Kaplan said with a smile.
“Mind if I take a look?” Jack offered.
“Be my guest, young man. I can cut down a tree from any stand, but I’ve never been a genius with engines.” was the owner’s answer.
Jack climbed up and looked around the engine cage. His suspicions were confirmed.
“Nice Hall-Scott 400 with a Hemi Head.” Jack said mostly to himself.
“One of the best big gas-powered engines made. Let’s check some things out.” Jack said settling into a world of his own.
Thirty minutes later Jack jumped off the truck and told the owner to turn over the engine.
The sound of the roar was magnificent, and the smile of Gabe Kaplan was from ear to ear.
“Well done, boy. What was wrong.” Gabe asked.
“Your points are shot, spark plugs definitely need to be changed, a couple of plug wires were shorting, and the distributor was full of dust.” Jack pointed out.
“You need to get this to a mechanic for a tune-up if you want to keep running the hills with it.” Jack added.
“Thank you, by the way, what are you doing in this neck of the woods, sort of speak.” The older man asked.
“I’m just kind of drifting right now, seeing this and that, learning things, living free. Just spent three months at a commune. That was quite an eye opener. Not for me but I enjoyed my stay. Mainly, I’m on a mission to find my dad. I haven’t seen him for fifteen years and would like to connect.” Jack said, wondering why he would share all of this information with a stranger.
“I’d like to reimburse you for your time and expertise, but I’d rather offer you some employment for a good month or so. I pay well, and believe me, you would learn a ton about logging and loggers. Three meals, a roof over your head, and cash on the barrel head. Interested?” The boss man asked.
“I need a fella that knows his way around machinery. It might be things you’ve never worked on, but they all basically need a power plant to function. I want you to bring that equipment up to snuff.” He added.
“Sure, why not.” Jack said.
“Let’s seal the deal with a cold one.” Gabe said.
He got into the cab and came out with two cans of beer. They were dripping with ice dew. Jack took a sip, then another. The coldness felt good going down.
“A logger’s requirement. Always keep a brew on ice for the end of the day.” The man said and raised the container to Jack.
***
Working for Kaplan Logging was quite an experience. Jack found the entire crew were hard working, down to earth guys who were also no nonsense. He had been cussed out more than once for something or the other. He tried to stick with engines and equipment but got pulled into all the aspects of the job. Cursing was a requirement, apparently, to work in the trees. Safety, above all, was the main theme of the operation. Anyone who didn’t adhere to the rules of security and safety were usually let go that day. Mr. Kaplan did not mess around.
Jack learned how to sharpen chain saws but in most cases the tree fallers and sawyers took care of their own equipment; and you didn’t touch it. Work was grueling and hard, and it hardened up Jack’s body too. A lot different than sitting around weeding a garden or dancing to a flute.
“Jack, you want to give dropping a tree a try?” the foreman Phil asked him one day.
“Sure, I’m game.” Came a quick reply.
“We got a snag over by the cook hut that needs to come down. Not very big, but a leaner. I’ll show you the ropes.” Phil said.
Excited to try something new and different, Jack dressed in the safety gear, hard hat, and goggles and followed instructions. The tree came down to Phil’s satisfaction and he directed Jack to cut it up as they need some firewood for the main project house. He enjoyed the physical labor, but was constantly thinking about growing up with a selfish, mean spirited drunk for a mother. Believing the stories about his father and hating his situation. Each swing of the axe brought less frustration with his life.
The crew spent their off hours, rainy days, and days where there was no quotas or business, partying, playing cards, or sleeping. Jack had to admit he was enjoying the taste of beer and its effects. He would think, however, of his mother and her alcohol abuse all the while. He was careful and rarely went crazy with the other guys. Moderation became important to him.
One day he was given the task to fall a tree on the edge of the parking area, with the idea of dropping it on the wide driveway. He went about the routine, cut the required notch in the direction of the drop zone then began to saw on the opposite side to weaken the trunk hold. All was going well when all of a sudden, the tree dropped down on the notch side then fell backwards toward an unwanted direction.
Jack watched in horror as the tree, three quarters of the way up, landed on the back end of his car, which was parked nearby. The weight of the timber produced a big V-shaped bash across the trunk. The back window shattered, one tail fin bent in half, and a tire exploded just from the weight of the blow. He just stood there for the longest time, wanting to cry. He had wrecked his father’s car, the only real connection he had with the man who his family had abandoned.
Nobody laughed or belittled Jack. Some told the story of doing the exact same thing. Those tales didn’t help. Some of the others cut the tree trunk and limbs off and gave Jack a chance to survey the damage. It was even worse without the pine branch camouflage. He checked the undercarriage and determined that the frame wasn’t askew. Now what, he thought. Should I just junk it and find another beater to fix up and keep on traveling?
A week later he bid the logging business a goodbye, jumped into the decrepit looking Blue and limped down the road. A sad pair indeed.
***
He got plenty of stares as he drove down the highway. He was pulled over twice by the highway patrol, as they determined if he was legal to be moving down the road. He proved that he was each time and kept going. No particular direction of travel got him to a walnut farm. He stopped into the retail part of the operation and bought some nuts. The attendant was a full figured, woman, about forty, who showed a pair of boobs that wouldn’t quit. She had overdone her makeup, her hair was a bronze-colored dye job, and the low-cut, tight-fitting dress was for advertising. She was the consummate cougar.
“Hi, Hon.” She said, “Just passing through?”
“Yep, I’m just get behind the wheel and go where my car takes me.” Jack said nonchalantly.
“I would guess, by the looks of that poor vehicle, your travels are limited.” She said and smiled.
“Well, I’m just about ready to close up shop. I’d like to have company for a drink. Interested?” she asked.
Jack waited around outside the shop as she finished closing. She pointed to a large house about two hundred yards away.
“That’s my place. A bit too big for little old me, but I like it anyway.” She said.
The two walked up the wrap around porch steps of the home. It was well taken care of and reeked of big bucks.
“You must do alright with the walnut business.” Jack said thoughtfully.
“Not a lot of us growers around anymore, the big get bigger. I’m one of the big ones.” She said and laughed, then pushed up her boobs sensually.
“Just you here?” jack said as he looked around.
“Sweetie, it’s just me.” She said and slowly ran her hand across Jack’s rear end as she walked by.
“Let’s celebrate the end of the day with a little drink, shall we?” she stated.
“Have you ever had a Long Island Ice Tea?” was her next question.
“No, does it have alcohol in it.” Jack asked honestly.
“A little bit, but a perfect drink on a late warm afternoon. It’s my favorite.” She said and cocked her eyebrows up.
Minutes later she came back with a tall glass with a few ice cubes. She tipped her glass toward Jack.
“Here’s to little things, she said, and if your little thing needs anything, my little thing ain’t doing anything.”
She gave Jack a lustful smile, laughed and drank most of her tea.
Jack watched her make the second one. A little alcohol my aunt Fanny, he thought. She dumped in vodka, tequila, rum and two or three other things. The booze was definitely making an impact.
The woman, Roxanne, put on some music, and started to sway to the song and move her hips to the beat. Her dress seems to raise high on her thighs as she moved. Jack just sat and gaped.
“I think we’ve had enough of this sweet drink, the woman said. Let’s switch to plain old shooters.”
The young traveler soon looked up to see a lineup of empty shot glasses, and an equally empty tequila bottle sitting on a table in front of Jack. His pants around his ankles and the woman’s head was pumping up and down in his lap. He felt a very pleasant sensation, then things went black for a while.
Throughout the night, Jack became aware of the contorted body gymnastics, then would fuzz out again. He heard her squealing and moaning, alternating with passionate strings of unladylike words. It was surreal.
Jack woke up early as the sun shone through a window. He was laying a large bed, his face inches from the crotch of his bedroom partner. He pushed her off himself unceremoniously. She didn’t awaken but muttered something as she continued sleeping.
His head was throbbing and he looked again at the middle-aged sex partner. He shuddered.
Jack found his clothes scattered in various corners of the room and got dressed. He walked downstairs only to see a young Hispanic lady cleaning up the kitchen. She looked at him just briefly.
“Mr. Boss will be here soon. If you do not want to be murdered you should leave now.” She said.
“You would not be the first boy to fall for stories told by Mrs. Boss.” She continued.
“Mr. Boss is an angry man and when he sees you, that is the end.” she added as she made the sign of the cross. The young woman turned to the sink and continued her work.
Jack didn’t need to be told twice. He basically ran to his car, started up Blue, and was down the road in less than two minutes.
I’m an idiot.” He muttered to himself. Alcohol did it to me again, he thought. Moderation my ass!
***
Money was a little tight, but thanks to the paychecks from Kaplans, Jack was comfortable with his situation. He decided to see the big city lights and head for Las Angeles.
Finally, one evening, he was cruising down Hollywood and Vine. He soon realized there was nothing special about the place. Graffiti, street people, litter, and tourists taking snap shots was all there was. They even took pictures of Blue. Hadn’t they ever seen a wrecked car before, Jack wondered. He left LA, realizing he hadn’t missed anything by not being there before in his lifetime.
He drove most of the night and pulled into a nondescript motel on the edge of Barstow. He needed to take some hours and just soak in a tub, relax, and watch the mindless tube. Tomorrow he would have to formulate a plan to search for his father. Right now, he didn’t have a clue.
The next morning, he found a greasy spoon nearby, ordered up a large breakfast and watched the endless string of truckers and cars go by. Soon he would be right there with them, only he didn’t have a destination. Jack came out of the restaurant and looked over his poor car, the same one he had lovingly washed and waxed just months ago. He noticed a bubble bulge in the passenger rear tire. Lucky that didn’t blow, he thought.
He found an auto repair shop just blocks away off the main road. A guy dressed in greasy coveralls came out to talk. He had just as much grease and grime and his face and hands. This guy would never be hired by my old boss, Jack thought.
“Looking for a good deal on a tire.” Jack said.
“Yea, I see that one’s about to end its life.” The guy said and turned to smile a mostly toothless smile.
He walked around Blue and started to point out problems with all of them.
“How many miles you got on them tires?” he asked.
“Don’t have a clue, but they’ve been on for a long time.” Jack answered.
“I got replacements that’ll fit but they won’t all match. Give you a good deal.” He said and smiled again.
The two finally agreed on a cash price that was reduced when Jack saw that one of the tires was a retread. Jack pulled Blue into the garage bay.
Work was done, money was paid, and Jack took off. He had two whitewalls, and four different brands of tire. They all had good tread. He was ready to travel. In about sixty miles, then left rear tire area was making a terrible racket. Jack pulled over to check out the noise. He looked at the wheel and sighed.
The dumb son of a bitch had forgotten to tighten up the lug nuts so they had now gouged out the bolt holes on the wheels. Only way to make it completely right would be to buy a new hub and wheel. He pulled out the lug wrench by crawling through the passageway from the back area into the trunk, and began to tighten things up. Satisfied it would hold until a fix, he took off down the road. What next, he thought.
He arrived at Baker, grabbed some fast food, gasoline, and beer at a quick service highway stop. He didn’t even wait until he got into his car before he popped a top and took a long drink. He was still seething about the tire situation. He climbed in and took off toward the desert region.
***
Jack awoke to the sound of traffic going by.
Who would be racing down this god forsaken road at his time of the morning, he asked himself?
Most were pickup trucks hauling travel trailers, all terrain vehicles, or motocross cycles. He crawled out of Blue and sat on the hood of the car watching the caravans of people.
Soon a truck stopped and a group of two men and two women exited the vehicle.
“Looks like you’re in need of some assistance.” One of the men said.
“Well, I’d really like to get a drink of water, that is, if you have some to spare.” Jack said.
Shortly a quart bottle of cold water was thrust into Jack’s hands. He undid the cap and drank three quarters of the cool clear liquid.
“Thank you, I decided to make my own road some time last night and it didn’t work out so well for me.” Jack explained.
“What’s going on, there’s a lot of traffic all of a sudden.” Jack asked.
One of the guys explained that it was the annual Presidents Day, all-terrain vehicle rally. It brought people from all over the southwest. Swap meets, sales, and friendship renewals as well a competitive racing was part of the long weekend.
“We’ve got a friend with a pretty good size pickup and a killer winch that could probably get your outfit on more firm ground, we’ll head up and see if he’s around. Just hang tight and somebody will be around to help you out.” A woman explained.
Jack finished the handout of water and continued to survey the depth of his dilemma. Thirty minutes later he heard the sound of a diesel engine approaching. A big GMC Ram 350 pulled beside Jack’s car, then drove ahead positioning it front bumper to his front bumper. A huge winch sat in an extension panel at the front of the truck.
The passenger jumped out with a shovel and looked things over. He began to dig.
“Looks like you hit some quick sand the way that thing is stuck. We should have it out in no time.” The guy said.
Jack kneeled down and moved some sand away from in front of one of the crappy tires by hand. He moved to the side so that the driver could extend the winch cable to the undercarriage of his car. It was all hooked up and the winch began to tighten under the controls of the truck driver.
The driver gave a quick look back and began the procedure.
“A 57 chevy, huh., he said, I had one a long time ago. A great car.”
“Yeah, I’ve had it since I was a little kid, but Old Blue has seen some tough times recently.” Jack said.
“Old Blue, huh.” He man said, his back to Jack.
“That’s what my father named it.” Jack continued.
The man straightened up staring at the windshield of his truck. He was silent for a moment then turned around.
“Jackie, boy?” he asked it a quiet voice.
Jack stood up from the sand and stared at the man. His mind exploded with thoughts, and his vision danced for just a moment. The memory of a face came flooding back into his mind.
“Dad?” came a question of which he already knew the answer.
The two men grabbed each other in a fierce hug. Tears were rolling down their faces. Neither was ashamed.
“I looked for you for years.” His father said in a faltering voice. “Each time I came close your mother disappeared again.”
“We have a lot to talk about.” The older man said as he looked into Jack’s eyes.
“Let’s get you out of this sand and have you come up to the camp that’s set up. It’s not far, that is if Old Blue can make it.” He said with a smile.
“It runs great, it just got beat up a little lately, but everything can be fixed.” The son said to his father.
The rest of the weekend was a time of celebration, brief bursts of anger directed toward Mavis, sadness, and a constant stream of acquaintances and well-wishers greeting the long-lost son.
Jack told his story of the lies weaved by his mother, her downward spiral with alcohol and choices in life, his trip away from her, and the damages done to the beloved car. He touched his father’s hands, arms and shoulders every chance he got. The man was really there. He had found his father.
His dad told the story of coming home from a weekend seminar, only to find his family, money, and car gone. He talked briefly of the difficulties of living with Mavis and her drinking, and the arguments they got into.
They were finally done saying I’m sorry to each other, and began making plans to go forward.
His father was adamant that Jack should contact his mother to let her know that he was okay and traveling with his father. Jack argued that she didn’t deserve the call, but finally realized it would be childish and selfish not to. She, at least, deserved that.
Jack looked forward to get out of the desert and out from under the black cloud that had haunted him for years. And maybe he would wash and wax Old Blue.
Left To Write 