Wife Wants a Hall Pass

In April of 1989, Linda and I had planned to have Bobby Wilkinson and his wife, Michelin, visit with us. They live in Scotland. We received a phone call from them. They informed us that Michelin had finally become pregnant and Bobby didn't want her to travel. We all agreed to postpone their trip to some indefinite time in the future.

I had commissioned the re-build of an old English sports car by Michelin's Uncle Artair during a previous visit. He phoned in the middle of June and said the car was ready for shipment to me.

Previously Linda and I had planned to visit them in November or December after Michelin's baby was born. We wanted to see the baby and yes, I had some designs on some interaction with the baby's mother. We had been lovers in the past. Linda of course, had a relationship with Bobby that had been ongoing.

I argued that I didn't want to wait until December to visit. I wanted to go right away. Mid-Winter would not be the time for playing with my new toy on the back roads of Scotland. Mid-Summer would be perfect for Linda and me to tour part of Great Britain in the little car. We could have the time together in a foreign land, fix any problems with the car and have it shipped immediately.

I called Bobby and then Artair. Everyone was exuberant about seeing us again. Bobby talked to me privately. He made me understand that there could be no playtime with Michelin during her pregnancy and we needed to agree to put all our activities on hold until our next visit. I agreed to that.

When I informed Linda of that development, she only showed minimal disappointment. Her Idea was to have a nice visit, pick up the car and spend three or four days sightseeing together before shipping the car and coming home. It would be a vacation just for us. I liked the idea.

On the following Monday, I had my secretary call our travel agent and set an itinerary. I then called Bobby and told him our arrival time. He agreed to meet us in Edinburgh as he had done the last time and assured me that Artair would have my car prepared for our use.

Linda and I left Texas on the nineteenth of the month and landed in Edinburgh at about ten AM on Tuesday the twentieth. I had left our return date open but I intended to be at home no later than the twenty-ninth. That was Thursday of the following week. That would give us seven complete days on the ground in Scotland if we needed it. I had found that weekday travel was always easier.

Bobby and Michelin were there to meet us just as planned. We walked away from customs and Linda greeted Bobby with enthusiasm. Michelin greeted me with great enthusiasm. She let her lips brush mine and whispered, "I dream about you," as she hugged me. I held her longer than I should have. The monster moved.

We collected our luggage. I only had one bag and my small carry-on. Linda had brought three large bags and her carry-on was twice as big as mine was. I thought, "She is a girl." The girls walked away holding hands, talking and giggling among themselves. I thought Bobby and I would have to carry everything but he acquired the help of a porter with a cart. I felt reprieved from a bout of hard labor. Bobby had parked in the same place as the last time. We loaded the Bentley and the girls climbed into the back seat together. Bobby and I seated ourselves in the front.

He put the car in motion and asked if we wanted to do anything before going to his home.

I answered, "I want to see Uncle Artair and my TR3 as soon as possible.

Linda giggled and said, "First, I want to have another helping of Cullen Skink at that same little roadside inn we stopped at before."

Michelin seconded Linda's motion and Bobby moved us in that direction at a high rate of speed. I thought, "I guess my car can wait another hour."

The girls chattered and giggled like schoolchildren. There was no way for Bobby and me to have any conversation. After about ten minutes, Bobby tripped a switch. A glass window rose from behind the front seat and effectively sealed them off. I looked back at them through the glass. I intended to stick my tongue out at them but they didn't even look at me. I don't think they noticed.

It became very quiet in our half of the car. Bobby said, "Once you told me that you would stick your tongue in their mouth to shut them up. My tongue wasn't long enough. I had to close the window." He was speaking with the accent you would find on the campus of Texas A&M University. He had the ability to switch from a thick Scottish Brogue to American English at will. He used American English with me so I could understand him. He used the brogue with Linda because it turned her on.

I laughed with him. After a moment, I said, "Michelin certainly looks good. I expected to see her all puffy and swollen out of shape."

Bobby answered, "The doctor thinks she is between ten and twelve weeks along. In our little village, he has no way to test her except for his eyeballs. He assured me that she is healthy and the baby is doing well. He says she will start to show her condition soon."

I asked, "May I be straightforward with a question in regard to our no sex agreement?"

He answered, "Surely, as always."

I asked, "Have you quit having sex with her? It won't hurt her, you know. When Linda was pregnant, we had sex right up until the very end. Her doctor told me that women are designed to do that. We did abstain for a time after she gave birth."

He said, "It is hard for me, Luke. Hell, I am in my sixties and this is my first child. I can't help it. I am afraid for her. I know that I am probably being overly protective but I can't stop worrying about her and the baby."

We rode in silence for a minute. Bobby said, "When I first saw Linda and she kissed me, I was sorry that I had asked you to make that agreement. You are so lucky. She is such a beautiful woman."

I answered, "You are a lucky man too. I would probably run away with your young wife if I could talk her into it."

He chuckled and answered, "If anyone could do that, it would probably be you. She talks to you in her sleep sometimes.

I said, "I think we should stick to our agreement. If I had sex with her and she had a problem, I would never forgive myself."

He said, "Thank you for understanding and thanks for being my friend."

We pulled into the parking lot of the inn. We followed the girls inside. They never shut up. Ironically, we were seated at the same table we had used before, and the same sweet little old woman came to serve us. Bobby ordered the same meal that we ordered the last time. He ordered Cullen Skink for four and drinks. Cullen Skink is a thick fish served with the house bread. It was like déjà vu.

The severe looking old woman returned with drinks and gracefully danced around the table as she served them. A few minutes later, she returned with our food. She repeated her performance as she served us. She flirted with me as she worked and of course, I flirted back. That too was just as before. Linda and Michelin both giggled as she departed. The food was good like the last time. I was glad that we stopped.

Linda came close to me on the way back to the car and privately asked, "Do you want to ride in the back with Michelin? I can ride with Bobby."

I replied, "I think we should ride as before. We shouldn't build any fires that we can't put out."

She answered, "If Bobby builds a fire in me, I have you to put it out." She kissed my cheek and giggled but then she seated herself in the back.

Bobby opened the window and the four of us talked about what we wanted to do during our stay.

Bobby was going to coach a soccer match the next day. He commented that his team members would enjoy seeing Linda again. It would have been rude for me not to agree to attend the match.

I thought that I had better reserve my alone time with Linda or all our time might be used up with such trivial things. Driving the car was most important to me. I said, "Linda and I want to take a couple days for a driving tour. It can serve as a shakedown cruise for the TR3." I knew that I could stretch that into three days. That would leave plenty of time for Uncle Artair to fix anything I found wrong with the car and properly prepare and crate it for shipment.

Michelin said, "We can spend time together after you get back. Cooks wants you to pick a meal from her Texas cookbook. She will prepare it for us one evening." After a short pause, she continued, "I have planned a small going away party for you the night before you leave."

I said, "We have to be at the airport by three in the afternoon on Wednesday of next week. Your party will have to be on Tuesday evening."

Michelin said, "That was my next question." She hesitated and said, "Tuesday evening will work."

The afternoon flight on that Wednesday was one of our options. I could call and reserve our seats anytime tomorrow. That was another decision I didn't have to make.

Bobby asked, "Linda, what can we do to make you happy?"

Linda giggled and said, "I want you to give me and Luke the same room that he used last year. I want to sleep in that big fluffy down bed with my husband."

Bobby replied, "I can do that." He glanced my way and smiled at me."

Presently, we sat and watched as the main gate before the manor house opened. Bobby piloted the car forward to the large front entry. The staff was there to meet us. I remember our last entry here. The staff had greeted us with bows and curtsies. This time it was hugs and handshakes. Linda and I were both glad to see them too.

Bobby orchestrated a small work party to move our luggage into the room that Linda had requested. The rest of the staff melted into the background. He said, "The sun is under the yardarm somewhere. Come in and I will fix us all a drink.

I replied, "I really am anxious to visit with Artair and see the car."

Bobby said, "Okay we can go there and drink his whisky."

Michelin looked at Linda and said, "Don't worry. We won't have to drink it. Uncle keeps very nice champagne chilled in his fridge. It is especially for me. I know you will like it."

We all climbed back into the Bentley and Bobby drove to the front of the garage where Artair kept his office. He was not there to meet us. We left the car outside and walked into the open barn-sized shop and garage. The Lairds TR3 sat in the open but mine was not in sight. I went to the office door and knocked.

After I knocked about three times the door finally swung open and the crusty old Scot was standing there.

Artair said, "Oh, it's you. I thought someone said you were coming." He stepped out and beckoned for Bobby and the girls to come.

I Asked, "Uncle Artair, where is my car?"

He peered at me through squinted eyes as though I was a naughty and impatient little boy. He put his thickest brogue on display and said, "Pleasantries Luke. Always observe the pleasantries. In the long run, it makes life far more enjoyable."

He offered everyone a seat and a drink. He popped the cork on the champagne first and then poured for the girls. Then he poured a half tumbler of straight Scotch whisky for Bobby, himself and me.

I said, "Uncle Artair, Where is my car?" The girls giggled.

He squinted. His eyes and gave me the look again. He said, "Patients Boy. You need to learn respect for the rest of the group. They don't care about your little toy car. They just came here to drink my booze." He paused and then his deep accent filled the room again. He said, "That is alright though. It is not often that pretty girls come to visit me here."

I lowered my voice and put some threat into it. I said, "Artair, you are a straightforward shit. Even for a member of Clan Campbell. I want to see my car."

He answered with fire in his eyes. "This old man will kick your young arse for the slightest insult to the Clan." He took a step toward me as if he meant it.

I stood and squared to meet his attack. I actually thought it was coming.

He pulled up short and laughed at me. He smiled and said, "Okay Luke. I had to play with you some." He sat back on the edge of his desk, drank a heavy slug of his whisky as he pushed his call button. Everyone in the room was laughing except me. I relaxed a bit but didn't let my guard down completely. I can read men pretty well. I knew that if this old fart were really going to attack me, he would sucker punch me if I gave him the opportunity.

A minute later, there was a knock and then the door swung open. Artair's young helper stuck his head in, looked at the old man and said, "Yes Sir."

Uncle Artair said, "Park the blue one out in the sunshine next to the Bentley." The young man nodded his head and was gone.

I drank a heavy slug of my whisky and took the rest of my drink with me. I went to stand in the shade just inside the shop. I wanted to be there when my TR3 made its appearance. In another minute, the young helper parked ten feet from the Bentley and shut the engine down.

The little blue car was immaculate and beautiful beyond description but it didn't sound like a Triumph. The color was a fine powder blue with an asymmetrical set of three white racing stripes. They ran from the grill to the rear bumper and were offset to the left of center directly in line with the driver's line of vision. The center stripe was about four inches wide and the two outer ones were narrower. My observation of the stripes made me notice that the driver's seat was on the left.

The interior upholstery was very light but not white. It had to be Italian leather. The convertible top rested in its retracted position.. I could see it was made of military grade canvas and colored similar to the interior leather. I'm sure it was made from Dacron. The grill, bumpers and rally style 60 spoke wire wheels were all bright chrome. The hubs were quick change racing spinners.

I could see the oversized discs and calipers of the braking system through the spokes. An inverted U shaped chromed roll bar rose behind each headrest. From the outside, the car was almost as pretty as Linda was but in a different way. I noticed then that everyone was standing just behind and watching me.

The young man stepped out of the car and tossed the keys to Uncle Artair before he trotted away.

Artair came to me and put the keys in my hand. He said, "Take one of these pretty girls for a ride. Teach yourself to drive this machine before you push it the least bit. It makes much more power than the green one does. Come to me when we can be alone. I want to give you a few minutes of instruction personally. Please keep it under eighty, except for short burst for the first five hundred miles. This machine has a brand new engine."

My heart skipped a beat. I handed my drink to Artair. I grabbed Linda's hand and said, "Come with me, Sweetheart." I opened the door for her and helped her into the passenger's seat. The seatbelt was a three-point harness like you would see in an aerobatic airplane. I buckled her in before I sat in the driver's seat and buckled my own harness.

I looked at the dash trying to figure out how to start the thing. Uncle Artair came to the rescue. He said, "Step on the clutch. Put the key in the ignition switch and turn it to the on position. Push the starter button and keep your foot away from the accelerator until the engine has settled into a smooth idle. The gearbox has five forward speeds and the pattern is depicted on top of the shifter." He paused and said, "Release the parking brake. Do not hurt this girl and do not bend this car."

I had followed his instructions as he gave them. We were sitting in a vehicle that vibrated sweetly to the tune of a powerful engine at idle. It didn't sound at all like any British sports car that I had ever been near.

I goosed the throttle just a little and the tachometer jumped quickly through the three thousand RPM mark. The engine sounded more like a Detroit muscle car. I let the RPMs drop back to idle and slipped the transmission into reverse. The clutch engaged and we backed smoothly away from the big Bentley.

I changed to first gear, eased the little machine into the lane, and slowly fed in a small amount of throttle. We were going thirty miles an hour in a heartbeat. That was much too fast for where we were. I was definitely being ham-handed. In my mind, I could see Artair wince.

Linda left me alone and allowed me to learn. In a half hour or so, I was starting to be in control. The little machine was doing what I asked of it, most of the time. Linda had become giddy and was enjoying the ride. She had no idea of the difficulty that I was having. I never got above sixty miles an hour but that seemed fast on the winding two-lane road.

I turned around and headed back toward The Manor. By the time we got there, I was confident that I could land this magic carpet without embarrassing myself.

As I helped Linda from her seat, Bobby, Michelin and Artair surrounded me. Artair was inspecting the car for damage. Bobby was being quiet and nursing his drink. Michelin said, "Take me for a ride, Luke."

Bobby immediately said, "Nay Girl. Not today, maybe when we visit after the baby comes."

Michelin's lower lip popped out into the pout position but she bent to The Laird's will without argument.

Bobby stepped between the two women and gave them each an arm. He said, "Come with me girls. I sense that these two auto buffs want to be alone." They walked away toward the main house. He looked back at me and said, "Take your time, Luke. I can entertain them both."

I asked Artair, "Where is my drink?"

He said, "I finished it for you while you were gone. Come with me I will make you another. Artair's idea of making a drink is pouring a tumbler half-full of Scotch and handing it to you. I have learned to appreciate his skill in this maneuver. He rarely spills a drop. I noticed the whisky was of better quality than that served on my last visit.

I said, "Uncle, that beast out there is not the TR3 that I ordered."

He looked at me and his eyes narrowed for real this time. He said, "If you don't like it, I'll keep it and give you half your money back."

I answered, "That way, you will have a new car and twenty thousand dollars of my money. I will have twenty thousand that was mine to start with."

He said, "Yeah that's right. It's a bitch dealing with a drunken Scot, isn't it? What do you want to do?"

I answered, "Uncle Artair, I love the car. You keep all the money." I get to call him Uncle because the old bastard adopted me the last time I was here.

He laughed and said, "I knew you would be surprised, and I knew you would love her."

I said, "Seriously tell me how she came into being."

He sipped from his tumbler and said, "I really buggered you badly when we negotiated the money for your car. I really enjoyed screwing you that way. I wish I could deal with you Texas boys more often. You have far too much money and you don't have any idea what anything is worth. He paused and said, "You negotiated for a car like the Laird's green TR3. Then you agreed to pay several times, what it was worth. I was extremely proud of making that deal. That is until you fucked it all up for me."

I chuckled and asked, "Please pray tell, how I did that?"

He cocked his head, took another sip and squinted his eyes as he answered. He said, "Somehow you instigated my Michelin's marriage to The Laird of The Manor. She is my favorite little girl in the whole world. When you do nice things for her, I find myself learning to like you. I thought that adopting you would be enough but it wasn't. My conscience still bothered me about the money so I decided to put some of it in your car.

I said, "Well Damn, Artair. You could just give some of my money back."

He smiled and said, "Nay, Boy. That could never happen. A true Scotsman could no' do that."