The Blue Ribbon

"Hey Jace, what're you up to tomorrow?" crackled Joey's friendly voice over the phone line.

"Going to the Concours. What else is there?" Jason replied with a laugh, not surprised at hearing from his best old car buddy.

"I figured that and have a little proposition for you to consider."

"Shoot."

"You know that we're taking four cars there tomorrow."

"Yeah. You were saying so the other day," Jason commented remembering their phone conversation from a few days earlier.

"Well, Little John's mother-in-law passed away and he can't make it. I was wondering if you would want to come along with the crew in his place."

It took Jason all of a split second to make up his mind.

"I'll be there. What time?"

"Can you be at The Shop by 6? We have to be on the road by 6:30. The Old Man gets pissed if we're late."

"That's pretty early, but I can do it."

"Great! It should be a terrific show."

"Always is."

The two old friends went on to talk over the cars they would be in charge of showing and a few other details. Jason had to admit that Joey had a great job working for one of the area's wealthiest real estate entrepreneurs who just so happened to have the area's finest collection of antique and classic automobiles. We're not just talking some really neat old Fords and Chevy's, of which he did happen to have several, but full blown classics from the golden age of motoring, Packards, Cadillacs, Pierce Arrows, Mercedes, Rolls Royces, Cords, Auburns, and of course three or four Duesenbergs.

The Concours d'Elegance is one of the top three or four shows of its kind in the world. Over three hundred of the world's most collectible cars would be displayed on the grounds of Meadow Brook Hall, the former estate of one of the areas automotive pioneers. The beautiful Tudor styled mansion and the lush rolling grounds made a perfect backdrop for the jewels of automotive styling and performance.

This year The Old Man had been invited to bring four cars: a big old green Locomobile from the teens, a dark blue 1941 Cadillac convertible sedan that had been used as a parade vehicle by Eisenhower after the war, a sharp red and white Mercury convertible from the fifties, and a long dark green Duesenberg Town Car. Joey had recruited Jason in the past to help transport the cars to this and other shows, unload them from the hauler, drive them onto the show field, give them a final shine, and see how the judging went. It was a great experience to become a part of such a prestigious event, and Jason hoped that one day the old Cadillac that he was currently restoring would be invited onto the field at Meadow Brook.

"Thanks for helping out, Jace," Joey said gratefully.

"Thanks for inviting me," Jason replied. "See you in the morning."

The rest of his Saturday flew by. Inspired by the prospect of taking part in the big show, Jason spent a little time putzing around in his garage working on his restoration project. Since his divorce it was about the only fun thing going on in his life. He had his work and a few good friends, but there was something missing from his life and spending a few hours each week painstakingly restoring his grand old Cadillac seemed to fill the void.

Even though he got to bed at a decent hour, the alarm shooting off at o-dark thirty the next morning caught Jason by surprise. With a sleepy excitement he tumbled out of bed and headed to the shower. Toweling off afterwards, he appraised his naked body in the mirror. Not bad for an old man, he chuckled to himself. Tall, trimly muscular, a nice healthy tan, sandy brown hair bleached blond by the sun, and green eyes, Jason was okay with his looks. Not wickedly handsome, but none too shabby either. Although nearing his mid fifties, people often remarked that he looked thirty-five. Good genes, a healthy diet, some regular exercise, and an upbeat outlook on life had helped him maintain his youthfulness. Now if he could only find a woman who appreciated his finer qualities, his life would be complete.

Noting the time, Jason quickly shaved and dressed, opting for a light colored golf shirt and a comfortable pair of slacks. He tossed a pair of shorts into his camera bag just in case it got really hot and headed off to The Old Man's shop.

Just a few miles from his house, The Shop was in a nondescript brick building with a small office in front. Driving past you might think it was a modest tool and die operation. But once inside that first impression was quickly proven wrong. There were a dozen bays where cars could be stored and serviced. There was a machine shop, a paint booth, a woodworking shop, a metal working shop, everything you would need to completely disassemble and restore an automobile. Jason always felt a twinge of garage envy when he walked inside. If he had a place like this to work, his own project would be quickly finished.

"Hey, Jace! What's up?" Joey said greeting his old buddy. He turned toward Billie Sue and Dave Bob, his co-workers "You remember my friend, Jason, don't you?"

"Sure do," said Billie Sue, a short skinny gal who was the designated detailer. She was legendary for being able to coax a trophy winning shine from even the most weather-beaten old heap.

"Hey, Jace. How you doing?" said Dave Bob, shaking Jason's hand. Dave Bob was a wiry dark-haired guy who was in charge of the shop. He was a fine all around mechanic but his forte was paint and finish. Several cars that he had painted had taken top honors in the car show circuit.

"I'm doing great," Jason replied. "Looks like we have a great day in store."

"Should be. Supposed to be warm and sunny. No chance of rain," remarked Billie Sue.

"So what's the plan?" Jason asked.

"We've got the Duesenberg and Locomobile already loaded in the trailer," Dave Bob said pointing toward the long two-car trailer parked outside. "Skippy here is going to drive the Caddy. Are you up to driving the Merc?"

Jason had figured that he would ride along with the others. He hadn't planned on driving something, but jumped at the chance.

"I sure am," Jason said.

"Great. Then let's do it!"

"We've got a long day," Joey remarked.

"Say, what's that Skippy business anyway?" Jason asked his buddy as they walked toward the cars as Dave Bob locked up.

"That's my new nickname, Skippy Whitebread. Long story. I'll tell you sometime over a beer."

Jason chuckled.

The plan was to have Joey lead the way in the Cadillac, Jason following in the Merc, and Dave Bob and Billie Sue bringing up the rear in the rig hauling the trailer. Jason found the keys already in the ignition as he slipped onto the firm red and white leather set. The car was a beauty, a 1956 Mercury Montclair convertible, the closest thing to a Lincoln that Ford made that year. It started right up and purred like a kitten, well, actually it purred like a big old tomcat.

The drive out to the show was uneventful. It was a crystal clear Sunday morning and the car was running superbly. They rendezvoused in a large parking lot on the estate where a hundred other trailers were parked. Several other cars were in various stages of being unloaded and driven onto the show field. A spectacular Delahaye and an equally impressive Bentley were parked right next to them.

It took several minutes for Dave Bob and Joey to cautiously unload the Locomobile and the Duesey from the trailer. Billie Sue must have spent a week polishing all of the brass trim on the big old Locomobile. It must have made an impressive sight on the roads back in 1915 because it looked spectacular in the early morning light. But Jason's favorite was the long dark green Duesenberg Town Car that Dave Bob patiently backed out of the trailer and down the ramps. It was the epitome of classic elegance. A huge powerful engine that was years ahead of the competition in power and design coupled to an elegant and luxurious body, trimmed in black leather in front for the driver and in sumptuous cloth in the rear for the passengers. In an era when a fully loaded Ford sold for $500, the Duesenberg sold for nearly $20,000 and it looked like it was worth every penny.

The party of four formed up and paraded onto the field, queuing up to check in and then being split up and escorted to their parking places. The cars were arranged in circles, each of which contained cars of a similar class. They were backed in behind a rope that was staked around the perimeter to hold back the viewing public. An errant belt buckle or swinging camera bag could quickly damage a ten thousand dollar paint job. Jason was pleased to see that his spot was the best vantage point of the entire group of cars he was joining. There were maybe fifteen other Fifties American convertibles in the group, Chryslers and Caddies, Lincolns and Packards. He climbed out and found a stack of clean towels in the truck and quickly went around the car wiping off the road dust and cleaning the chrome. He stood back and admired his handiwork.

"Looking good!" said the marshal, a young college kid recruited as a volunteer to help keep things in order.

"Thanks!"

"What is it?"

"Fifty-six Mercury Montclair convertible," Jason replied.

"These cars are so awesome. I can't believe it. Did you see that black and orange one over there someplace? Unbeliveable."

"No, I didn't, but I plan to," Jason said.

Jason joined the others up on the patio for coffee and a cruller. While it was still early and before The Old Man showed up, they decided to cruise around the field and look at the other entries, but still keep an eye on their designated cars. The Locomobile and Duesenberg had been selected for special segments of the event and Dave Bob was the designated driver. They split up in pairs, Billie Sue and Dave Bob, Jason and Joey, and began their walk through, greeting friends and taking pictures and marveling at the gorgeous rolling sculpture on display.

"So what do you think?" Joey asked as he and Jason walked around a circle of magnificent open classics.

"I think I'm in heaven," Jason replied, standing in awe of the sparkling automobiles on the show field.

"Hey, what about that one?" Joey asked, obviously checking out more than just the finely restored cars.

Jason looked over in the same direction to see a walking wet dream of a girl on the arm of an older man. She was blonde and trim and walked with a certain assured saunter that told him to forget it, she was already taken. He smiled and looked anyway.

"Hello, Sugar Daddy!" Jason cracked.

They enjoyed this part of the old car hobby. Being admirers of beautiful cars often spilled over into admiring the women who always seemed to be in attendance. And Joey, a guy blessed with a tremendous gift for gab was never at a shortage for words and had found some success at meeting and mating with a few of the ladies. Jason had never enjoyed the same success but grudgingly admired his friend's sexual triumphs.

The guys continued on through the other circles. Every circle of cars brought new and delightful sights. There was a ring of fantastic GM show cars from the early 1950's. There were dozens of Classic era Packards and Cadillacs and Lincolns. There were high-powered muscle cars from the 1960s. There were several circles of European sports cars and Classics, including dozens of Ferraris, Masteratis, and Lamborghinis.

"Eleven o'clock," Jason said, his eyes trained on a gorgeously tanned brunette, her long hair sweeping back and forth over her back. She paused with her guy and listened intently as he gestured toward the gleaming silver Stutz and made some sort of comment.

"Oh, yeah! Oh, yeah!" Joey replied. "Now, that's what you call a high maintenance baby doll!"

The guys chuckled and continued walking. There were so many gorgeous examples of automotive art on the field, many that they had never seen before. They slowed as they admired the circle of Auburns, Cords, and Duesenbergs. Each vehicle was like a gleaming jewel, the chrome highly polished, the deep dramatic paint glinting, and the wire wheels sparkling.

"Whoa, dude! Check it out! Duesen Daughter!" Joey remarked.

Jason looked where Joey had trained his eyes. Sure enough, Rob Michaels was in attendance and had brought along his family. Rob had the most enviable collection of Duesenbergs in the country. Not the largest, just the best. And his daughter outshone every car in his collection. She might have been all of eighteen or nineteen but was mouthwatering; tall and slender and raven-haired with a remarkably pert pair of breasts on prominent display in a skimpy strappy top. Her short shorts were skintight and barely covered her lower essentials, and what gorgeous essentials they were!

"I'm picking up a camel toe," Joey cracked, looking skyward prayerfully. "Thank you, Jesus!"

"Oh, my god! I think I'm in love!" Jason cried out when he saw Michaels's daughter. Sure she was barely legal and he was an old fuck, but that never kept him from admiring a beautiful young girl. Put him in the grave when he stops looking, was his motto.

They continued to circulate, browsing around a circle of fifties era convertibles, and then a grouping of pre World War II European Classics.

"Say, what about those two?" Joey said, nodding toward a pair of girls walking in front of them.

"Hmm," Jason replied. "Very nice. Good eye, Skippy."

"You can put a lid on the Skippy business," Joey remarked curtly, shooting Jason an unappreciative look as they paused beside a startling handsome foreign car, a Horch from the late 1930's. After quickly admiring the long sleek dark European beauty, Jason looked ahead to admire the striking pair of American beauties. Somewhere in their twenties perhaps, They were walking along and talking a lot more than they were looking. One was tall and slim with long jet black hair and creamy mocha skin, wearing a white halter-top and short denim skirt, that showed off a fine ass that sat high atop a long, long pair of legs. But as exotic as she was, it was the other girl who drew Jason's eye. She was shorter with shoulder length honey blonde hair, a great looking rack, and a round firm little ass. Her silky turquoise camisole top and short black skirt fitted her figure perfectly. Although the girls were dressed similarly, their individual looks, the different way each strolled along, and the colors they were wearing made for an interesting contrast.

Just as Jason was appraising the figure of the shorter girl, she paused and glanced back in his general direction. For a moment he caught a glimpse of her dark blue eyes and her pretty face. At first her look was blank and distant, but then she seemed to notice him and her face warmed into a shy smile. That sweet smile faded when she turned back toward her friend to catch a snippet of conversation, but for that fleeting moment, Jason saw something, something strangely familiar.

"You know, Skippy, if I'm not totally off my can, I think I know that girl," he said to Joey.

"Who?" Joey asked.

"The little blonde over there. Damn, I wish that I could place her."

"Well then, let's get closer," Joey suggested, stepping up their leisurely pace.

Jason followed along close beside his old buddy. The guys quickly closed the distance between them and did their best to act casual and nonchalant, pretending to be paying close attention to the gorgeous black Bentley roadster in front of them when they were really checking out the pair of girls who were now standing beside them, talking between themselves.

"So are you sure they're going to be here?" they overheard the honey blonde groan. "I don't want to be walking around here all day looking for your boyfriend and his deadbeat friend."

"They'll be here. I just know it," said the tall, dark-skinned girl. "Johnny is just so fucking cool. He promised he's going to be here. I just know it."

"Okay. If you say so," said the honey blonde, rolling her eyes.

"Let's keep moving, okay," the tall dark girl said.

As the girls began to move, Jason looked over at the shorter girl again. When she looked back toward him their eyes locked together. Damn! She was so familiar. Maybe five-six with a curvy sexy figure, she had dark blue eyes and a cute little button nose and high rounded cheekbones. She grinned again slightly when her eyes caught Jason's. What a terrific smile! She couldn't have been more than mid twenties, but that didn't matter. Jason felt his heart snap.

"Damn!" he muttered under his breath. "I do know her. Can't remember where or when ... but I know that girl."

Joey had heard him and leaned over. "If it makes you any more comfortable, I would love to know her friend," Joey quipped.

"Just give me a minute, okay?"

Jason's mind flipped through his memory. She looked so damned familiar. It took another second for Jason to place her. Then it hit him. He really did know that girl. He had to picture her a few years younger, and a little skinnier, but he realized who she was. Maybe ten or twelve years before he had hung around with a great bunch of guys he worked with. One was named George Lovett, nicknamed Big George, a big hulking guy with a gentle spirit. Standing now on the show field at Meadow Brook Hall, Jason was certain that he knew the girl standing a few feet away was George's daughter. But how she had changed! He remembered a skinny little girl playing Barbies with a friend but now here was a grown up beautiful young woman and for a moment he was speechless. He double-checked his memory. The body was all grown up and new, but the shape of her face and the eyes and the smile reminded him of her mother and confirmed his suspicion. Then he took a deep breath and found his nerve.

"Excuse me," Jason said haltingly as he and Joey approached, catching the girl's eye again.

Her taller friend looked over at him with a disapproving look on her face and shot him that old "get lost quick" look. The object of Jason's attention smiled softly and ran her hand up through her hair. Her smile faded and her hand came to rest on her hip.

"I don't mean to intrude into your thing, but you look really familiar to me," Jason said, his eyes locking on the short blonde with the big dark eyes. "I think I know you."

"And what makes you think that?" she replied.

"You remind me of the daughter of an old friend of mine," Jason said. He tried flashing his best boyish smile but she didn't seem impressed.

"What's his name?"

"George. George Lovett."

"That's my father's name all right, but I don't remember you," she said. Her voice was soft with a slight sexy rasp to it.

"You sure? You used to live on Warner Street over in Warren," Jason added.

"Used to. A long time ago," she said, her hand still resting on her hip that jutted out to the side almost defiantly.

"So ... you don't ... remember me at all?" Jason asked. He could hear Joey chuckling at his stumbling and bumbling pickup attempt.

The girl just looked at him, her dark blue eyes looking him over up and down. There was a slight shake to her head.

"Sorry," she said with a smirk and a slight shrug of her shoulders. The movement of her shoulders sent a jiggle to her breasts, which in turn sent a tingle straight to Jason's groin. It had been a long time since he had felt that sort of visceral feeling. It wasn't just that her shapely body was sheathed in a skimpy silky camisole and a short flirty skirt. There was something about the way she carried herself, something that drew him instinctively to her. Pheromones or hormones or some sort of mystical attraction.

"Come on, Ashley," said her friend. "Let's go."

The girl shrugged again and moved off with her friend.

Ashley. Ashley Lovett. That clinched it in Jason's mind. It was her, he was sure of it and he felt his heart sink just a little as he watched the girls saunter away after getting blown off like that. He admired the swish of their short skirts as their asses swayed back and forth while they walked. Neither girl glanced back even a peek. Jason sighed deeply and felt Joey's hand patting him on his back.