The Jalopy
It sat there, rust crumbling and moldering in the hot July sun. It had grown itself a new paint job, a thick coat of green fungus the color of baby poop. One headlight hung down by its wiring and the other had broken glass. All the tires were bald and flat. One door hung ajar and askew. The interior smelled like an old gym sock and was faded more than an eighties pair of blue jeans.
Carl never wanted anything more in his life.
This car was perfect! Sure, it needed some work but when he got that baby done he would be the envy of everyone in town. The cruise circuit would be blinded by his wheels. Ladies would chase him down the street just begging for a ride!
First things first, he needed to call a tow truck.
A hundred dollars later and a couple trips back down the road to pick up parts that had fallen off, his machine was finally home.
Carl pulled up a chair in the grass a few yards from the car and began to make a game plan. He should probably get it running first. No, it needs to be washed and shined.
One has to keep their priorities straight.
Carl clapped his hands together and jumped out of his chair. It was time to get his trusty Dock Freight tool kit. As he walked by his beautiful automobile he patted the hood.
His hand slammed back down like it was metal and the hood was a magnet. Or maybe his hand was the magnet and the hood was still metal? Anyways, when this happened, Carl had the strangest vision.
In this vision, Carl Maloney, age 18, had this car purring like a kitten and shining like an Apollo Rocket leaving the launch pad! He was cruising down main street with the seat leaned back, DMB blaring on his brand new stereo system, and the girls were absolutely falling all over themselves. Even Debbie Fineover was drooling! God, what he wouldn’t do to see those..
Wham!
Carl was thrown onto his keister and felt like wile e coyote had just slammed his head in between two trash can lids. He rubbed his forehead with one grubby hand and got back onto his feet.
As he made his way back to the house to get his tools, he kept an eye on the car. There was just something fishy about it and not just the smell under the seats. Carl wasn’t certain, but he didn’t think that cars normally did the sort of things his just did.
After grabbing the best tools China had to offer and grabbing a diet pop, Carl made his way back to the car with determination in his blood. He dropped the tools down on the hood and went for the door handle.
Wham!
Carl’s hand was drawn to it like a rabbit to a carrot. Like a horse to water. Then it came to him, another vision.
It was dark and the stars were shining like thousands of white Christmas lights hung on a porch at midnight. Debbie Fineover was looking at him from the passenger seat of his beautifully upholstered interior.
God, she was beautiful!
She leaned across the seat to move closer to him. Carl could feel the heat coming off her. He brought one hand up to her heaving chest. He started to slip a hand under her shirt and grab a handful of…
Wham!
Carl was once again on his keister. Only this time it was worse, he spilled his diet pop all over his pants. Looking at his soaked pants made his face turn red and it wasn’t just because of the soda.
Instead of getting all the way back up to his feet, Carl rolled up onto his knees and sat back on his legs. He studied the car very carefully this time. Why was it showing him these strange visions? Were these things that were in his future? Or were they all just fantasies? The same fantasies he thought about at night when he touc….
Wham!
Carl has let his head get too close to the car and it slammed into the door like a watermelon meeting a sledgehammer.
The visions came again only with that weird kaleidoscope quality to them. This time he was sitting in a room. It was a living room. There were empty pizza boxes, beer cans, and overflowing ashtrays everywhere. Across from him sitting on a dingy sofa was one of the largest women Carl had ever seen. She had a long skinny cigarette hanging off her ruby red lips. She gave him a very cross look and began yelling at him. At the same time two children ran into the room. One was chasing the other with a baseball bat and
trying to knock his brains out. He kept missing the other kid and instead smashing every piece of furniture that got in his way.
The woman was still yelling something at him and he got the feeling that this wasn’t the first time. As he sat there staring into her face he realized it was Debbie! My god, how she had really let herself go!
Wham!
Back on his keister and soda now all over his face too he let out a long groan. Instead of sitting up, Carl rolled onto his side in the fetal position and just stared at the side of the car. He was afraid to get too close to it again. At first the visions were nice and he will admit, arousing. Now they were beginning to become a little on the scary side. Maybe he was just worn out from all the work getting the car back home? It would probably be best if he just called it a day and went inside and watched some raw wrestling.
Carl finally stood up and brushed himself off. He gave a heavy huff and started to turn and walk away. His foot caught the toolkit that he had dropped on the ground after his last vision. Carl’s whole body fell towards the car.
Wham!
Carl’s body slapped the side of the car like a beluga whale hitting a cruise ship! Like a sack of flour hitting an oak tree!
The visions came once more.
Carl was sitting at a bare metal table, sitting in a circle of a rough looking crowd of men. Straight in front of him was a very big man with tattoos all over his face and arms.
The man said something that Carl could barely translate in his head. From what he gathered it was something along the lines of “make your play, cuz.”. Carl looked down at his hands and saw that he was holding poker cards.
Carl had no idea how to play poker. All these guys seemed so big and strong. They also looked kinda mean. From the corner of his eye he saw someone moving towards him. He turned his head to see Rick, Debbie’s brother, coming straight at him holding what looked like a piece of orange plastic in his hand. The end of the orange plastic looked like it would be sharp enough to stick someone with.
Rick has been in prison most of his adult life up in the River Valley correctional facility. Then it dawned on Carl that he must have done something to get himself thrown in the slammer. The clink. The can. The big house. The concrete hotel.
“Let’s see how you like getting fuc…” Rick began to say as he drew the orange plastic above his head.
Wham!
Carl is back on his keister. At least now he is back in his yard and not in that awful place. He looks up again at the junk pile he calls a car and slowly the gears start to turn in his head.
Carl looks up at the blue sky and the fluffy white clouds and begins to speak to them and maybe god too.
“You know, maybe not everything that is blonde and beautiful is actually what you want. Maybe not everything that’s broken down and rusted is actually what you want either.”
Carl feels like he really came up with something there. Something of a lesson in life. He feels like the visions have helped him grow as a person and as a man. He has matured. He is ready to take on life with this new knowledge that has been given to him. This wisdom will not be unused.
“Maybe I should make a decal with that saying…” Carl said proudly as he touched the back glass to see where it would look best.
Wham!
