This is a work of fiction. Any similarity between characters in this story and any person, living or dead is purely coincidental. I swear. Would I lie???
Apart from the mention of
Oggbashan
- he's real, and I wrote this pastiche of his "
Car Maintenance
" story to commemorate his volumes of excellent work, and his humour and guidance on these pages.
A side note. Ogg writes for the third puffin over there by the sixth rock. Without really thinking about it, I wrote this story for his friend two puddles over munching on a herring. You know, the one with the webbed foot and leg fetish...
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Tony looked up from his book as the commuter train pulled into the station, late as usual. This was a major transport interchange and a significant number of commuters pushed their way off the carriage so they could either push their way on to a connecting bus or push their cars nose to tail out of the car park. He watched the crowd leave with no real interest. It was just part of the day. Every bloody weekday. He slowly looked around at the remaining passengers, more to give his eyes a break from staring at the paperback than to see who was there. He recognised most people. He didn't really know them, and the unwritten commuter protocol was you didn't even acknowledge the other person's existence, even if you have been catching the same train as them for the last five years.
He sighed and thought "A total of ten years in the same fucking job. How's that career ladder working for you?"
Now the crush of people had eased, a lady sitting diagonally opposite caught his eye. Tony hadn't noticed her before today. Probably early-twenties, short curly red hair, round freckled face, dressed in a blue corporate uniform of some sort. Cute. The thing that actually grabbed his attention was she was reading a book as well. That was pretty unusual in the time of e-books and listening to Spotify. It looked like it had a dragon on the cover, but he looked away before she noticed him watching. Protocol...
Four stops later, they both got up and moved to the carriage door. Tony stood behind the redhead and watched her slip the book into her handbag. He was impressed. There were dragons on the cover. Dragons of Pern. Anne McCaffrey was one of his favourite authors. His eyes flicked up as she turned slightly, sensing him staring. Looking out, the winter darkness had closed in and it looked like rain. Again.
The train slowly halted at the platform and the impatient passengers hauled the door open, then bolted to the station exit. The redhead turned left to the buses, and Tony went right to the car park. He risked a quick glance in her direction, but she was lost in the misty rain that had started. He quickly walked towards his car, trying to dodge the puddles that had formed in the unsealed section of the parking area. Development at the station lagged years behind the explosion of housing, but if you wanted a relatively cheap house, you put up with the inconvenience.
He saw the unmistakable silhouette of his car right where he left it. All curves at the front, then a box at the rear. A 1963 Morris Minor panel van. Tony wasn't too worried about someone stealing it. Very few of the local yobbos would know how to drive a car with a manual gearbox, and as for starting it...
He opened the door and tossed his briefcase onto the passenger seat. He deeply inhaled the typically British car scent of leather seats and leaking engine oil. Smiling, he pulled out the choke, turned the key, and pulled the starter cable. The little engine coughed, then crackled to life. Lights and wipers went on - neither really doing the job they were supposed to, into first gear and out to the queue for the exit. Driving past the bus interchange - that was a laugh - he saw the redhead standing miserably in the rain, along with a few other poor sods.
"Poor girl. Bet she missed her bus." Tony thought. Along with the rubbish car park, connecting buses were practically non-existent. Their timetables hadn't caught up with the population explosion, and the public transport authority hadn't gotten around to installing shelters either. Tony pulled up to the carpark's intersection with the main road, pushed the choke in, and after a couple of blips on the throttle of the transplanted MG engine, pulled out and headed for the twenty-minute drive home. Tony furrowed his brow and sighed. Spag Bol for dinner. Again. He really needed to learn some new dishes.
He saw the redhead on and off over the next couple of weeks. She seemed to have settled on the same carriage as him each way but got off three stops earlier in the city. She was pretty cute. Seemed slightly lost though, as if she wasn't sure of her place in the boonies. Tony had the suspicion that she wasn't used to the long commute. It took him a fair time to get used to the mind-numbing grind after working for five years so close to home. Then the promotion, well, the relocation to head office. That was a disaster in more ways than one. 'Don't dwell on the past. Not worth the pain,' he chided himself.
One particularly trying day took a nice turn. He had a meeting with a grumpy client at the other end of town, near where his normal commuter train originated from. He got into a practically empty train and found a nice corner seat which he could wedge himself into, and promptly fell asleep.
He awoke about halfway home and felt someone leaning on him. Annoyed, he looked over at the space invader, only to see the redhead asleep on his shoulder. This was a serious breach of commuter protocol, but Tony just smiled and went back to sleep. His fleeting thought before he dropped off was 'She smells nice.'
He woke up again four stops from home. The redhead was awake and flicked him an embarrassed look. He nodded at her, smiled, and shrugged. She, in turn, went red.
Pointing to her book Tony asked, "How many have you read of hers?"
She looked closely at Tony, decided he probably wasn't a good looking closet axe murderer and turned the book over. Looking at the dragon clad cover she said "Twelve, I think. I started reading them when I was in high school, and I decided to give them another go when I started catching the train."
"She's a good writer. I've read most of her stuff," Tony opened his briefcase and pulled out a copy of 'Dinosaur Planet'.
The redhead looked impressed. "I haven't read that one yet. I'm still with the dragons."
Tony laughed "That's not a bad place to be. Tony." He held out his hand.
"Hi. Vicky." She awkwardly juggled her book and handbag and shook his hand. Tony's hand completely engulfed hers, and he felt like he was holding a little, very fragile bird.
Tony released her hand, smiled, and turned slightly to look out the window. He really could only see reflections back into the carriage. Vicky was looking at her book but occasionally flicked a glance at him. The little looks made him feel good. It had been a long time since he had anyone take an interest in him.
The future had looked so bright at University. He'd taken up a Bachelor of Business scholarship, majoring in accounting. Was offered a job at a prestigious firm, initially close to home. Met a gorgeous fellow accountant, and after a short but intense romance, married - to the confusion of friends and family. They didn't see them together for any length of time.
Liz was wonderful, but apart from a shared interest in financial systems, they really had nothing in common. When Liz, who also worked at the same firm, got a promotion overseas that pretty well ended their time together. All the discussions about communication strategies and the declarations of love meant nothing when the reality of dealing with an extremely long distance relationship bit hard. It slowly just shrivelled up and died, leaving memories and a large home loan debt for Tony. And then he was transferred to Head Office. Promotion his arse...
The lights of their station slid into view, and the two moved to the door with the rest of their fellow commuters. Tony stood behind Vicky, towering over her. She looked up at him, smiled again and said, "I guess I'll see you tomorrow."
"More than likely," he replied, stepping onto the platform. Looking up, the sky was relatively clear for winter. "Have fun on the bus."
Vicky went out the exit gate and turned towards the buses. He could just hear her say, "Horrible things. Bye!"
He walked to his van with a bit of a spring in his step. He didn't even mind spag bol was on the menu for dinner. Again. He again thought that he really should figure out something new to cook.
Another week of routine went by, with the occasional word or just a nod from Vicky the highlight. The small interactions helped lift his whole attitude to the world. Tony had even started cooking slightly different meals. Minced beef and tomato risotto. He knew it was only bolognese sauce cooked in rice, but it was a start. He started ironing his shirts again, instead of just letting the creases mostly drop out, his personal hygiene got a lift, and all the takeaway wrappers in the Morry were disposed of. He'd even booked a haircut at a real barber, not just getting a shearing by his mate's mum who happened to own a set of clippers.
Vicky noticed the small changes in him. She had casually glanced at him practically from day one of her commutes and tried to sit somewhere she could watch him. Apart from his height, the book he was reading had caught her eye. He was also pretty easy on the eye but didn't seem to really be aware of that. She thought that was charming, and when the opportunity came to grab a seat next to him, well, no little old ladies were going to get in her way. Falling asleep on his shoulder was completely unintentional and very embarrassing, but nice. He had a gentle masculine odour, mixed with an old woollen jumper smell. He was a very conservative dresser, and Vicky guessed he was either an accountant or doing some other computer-based admin job.
One wet Thursday morning Tony was barreling along the road to the station when he saw a small, despondent pair of navy pants hiding under a very large golf umbrella at a bus stop. As he whizzed past he noticed it was a glum-looking Vicky. He shook his head, did a quick U-turn followed by another one at the stop.
He leaned over and wound down the passenger's window. "Hi, Vicky? Ummm, you're going to be waiting a while - the buses are on strike."
A shocked freckled face appeared from under the umbrella. "Seriously? That's just fucking wonderful!" A hand shot up to cover her mouth "Shit. I'm sorry, I didn't mean to swear... Oh..."
