So, the car had been sitting there for months, man. Wasps had already made it their home –right above the front tires. I had let it sit there on purpose, because I was under some delusion that I was on my way back to the States to make it big. I did have a plane ticket waiting, but I was low on funds, and I didn’t want to spend a buck to get a car I wasn’t going to use running. I was hopeful the writing job I applied to was going to come through, and I’d be back in Louisville to enjoy the Fall –and get back on track. But the lady never wrote back. I applied, sent in my résumé, cover letter, and a clip. I thought I did a good job, especially on the cover letter, but maybe my clip scared her away. Who knows?
I followed up, but I didn’t get as much as a thanks, but no thanks. Old acquaintances went cold. The ticket sat just like the car (still does). So, I ultimately had no choice but to get up my ass and get that car running. See, you don’t want to be stranded up in these mountains for long –you’ll be dead meat.
“I’d start with the fuel pump, kid, seems like it ain’t sending gas up on through here,” said the mechanic. Now this guy works up to all hours of the night –he’s soft-spoken, short in stature, and seems correct. So the same night, I went to get the fuel pump, prior to Turkey Day. So, on Monday I gave him a call, and he told me to try and drive it to his house. I knew this wasn’t going to work because I had tried many times before, but the car would always die on me. But, of course, I tried regardless. And of course, the car died on the driveway. So, I called up my mother-in-law to see if she had a number to a towing service.
A female voice came on the line, and I thought it was her, but it turned out to be my sister-in-law. Similar voices. She gave me a number. I called. That number lead to another number. I called –then I got called once, then twice, different numbers. I directed the driver who asked for directions until he finally arrived. I started getting the car going before it died again while he pushed.
“Alright, now get out and help me push!” I did, but shit, as I was pushing…”
“Hey, you guys need help?” Now guess who said that…. Shit you not, it was the mechanic’s brother in a station wagon. Now mind you, the tow truck was in the middle of the road blocking traffic this whole time. But the old man wiggled his way pass the tow truck anyway. His offer of help was appreciated, but the five seconds he distracted me almost got me mangled.
“Get in! Get in! Get in!” cried the tow truck guy. Man… I tried, but the space was too narrow, and the car was moving too fast. The door was shut too. If I had followed through with his cries, I would’ve gotten messed up. The car smashed into a tree, but nothing happened to it. Just a little scratch.
Now the old Ford sits next to a derelict cantina waiting for the surgeon.
