Several thanks to the folks who helped me with suggestions on various makes/models of cars, and to the mechanics that helped when I picked their brains! Thanks to estragon, copy editor and other Litsters that took the time to read this for me prior to submission. All of the characters are fictional, as is the story. I hope you enjoy my 2012 Earth Day entry. One one vote per person if you do decide to vote - mostly if I stir some fond memories of your past, especially the cars, please share them with me. Thanks, Red
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Two middle-aged men and an older teen stared at the car pulling into the lot. All three were protected from the pelting rain and melting snow by the shop window. The vehicle was not though, and for that all three men pitied the driver behind the wheel.
Jack, the elder of the three men turned to young Tyler.
"You better go get Betty, she's gonna wanna see this," he said, before spitting his tobacco into a bucket in the corner of the garage's office.
Tyler nodded his head and left in search of their boss. The other men, Jack and Willie, waited patiently for the driver of the car to step out, brave the elements and come inside. When he did, both eyed him questioningly, as he shook off rainwater, shivering from the 30°F temperatures outside, and took off his hat and gloves.
"That is something I'm not used to," the stranger said as he shoved his hands through his hair.
"Don't get much rain where you're from?" Willie asked.
"No, not the rain, the cold air. I'm from Florida, heading up to University of Pennsylvania for a lecture," the gentleman answered.
"And you drove that," Jack pointed to the 1949 Kurtis Kraft Sport that had just been parked outside, "all the way from Florida? What are you, an idiot?"
The man looked stunned by the mechanic's blunt words. He glanced out at his car and frowned. "It wasn't the smartest thing I've ever done, but I had no choice," he countered. "I own other vehicles, two of which would have been a more ideal choice, but unfortunately, one was totaled when I loaned it to my daughter's husband and the other -- believe it or not, I went to start it and the damn thing wouldn't start."
"You could have borrowed a friend's, couldn't you?"
All three men turned at the sound of the feminine voice entering the shop office. Willie and Jack smirked, stepped back and gave plenty of space for Betty Diane Miller, the owner of Miller's Auto and Detailing.
"I was in a hurry," the man admitted. "I was running late, and didn't feel like going through the hassle of arranging transportation. What does it matter though, I'm here now and I need some work done."
Betty shrugged her shoulders. "It doesn't matter to me, I guess. But your car is a classic and shouldn't be out in this type of weather. The salt they use on the highways is going to eat at that paint and...."
"I'm sure it will be just fine. It's a one-time trip and it'll only be a couple of weeks; your concern however is noted and appreciated. If you don't mind, I'm trying to explain to these gentlemen what is wrong."
Willie, Jack, and Tyler all smirked as Betty ran her gaze up and down the man's imposing figure. The gentleman quickly did the same.
Betty saw a man in his early fifties, dark hair, with a salt and pepper mix of white and gray attempting to take over the natural coloring of youth gone by. He kept a well-trimmed goatee, and had blue eyes, that on a bright day would be the color of the sky. The wool trench coat he wore was partially unbuttoned and showed what Betty assumed was a tailor-made suit.
The stranger saw, a young woman with bright red hair, almost leaning toward orange. It was pulled into a ponytail that hung down her back. She had brown eyes, the color of chocolate, and was the shortest and smallest person in the room. She wore a dark blue top that had the name Betty written in cursive over her left breast. He saw her pants were loose, and hung from her slim hips. The material was dirty and stained with what he assumed was oil.
When their assessment of each other was over, he realized that she was one of the mechanics and he had probably just insulted her intelligence. Instantly he regretted his earlier dismissal of her. She said nothing as his lips formed a frown and his hand reached out to shake hers.
"My apologies Miss...."
"Betty," she said, "and none needed." She shook his hand, and walked to stand in front of the window. "Most folks traveling through here have the same reaction as you. My father was the original owner of Miller's Auto and Detailing; he passed away when I was eighteen, shortly after that my mother passed. I inherited the shop, and have kept it running ever since."
"Wow." He shook his head in amazement.
Betty turned to her employees. "Jack, if you'll drive Mister..."
"Moretti -- Frank Amelio Moretti," Frank said as he pulled his keys from his pocket and passed them to Jack.
She smirked at his decision to give his full name. "Mister Moretti's car into the shop, spray it down and get that shit off the paint, I'll be in to take a look at it in a bit. Willie, you can finish the oil change on Miss. Thompson's Caddy and Tyler, if you'll call over to Tom's and ask if he's got the parts for Uncle John's Chevy, I'd appreciate it."
The men quickly left and Betty offered Frank a seat across from the only desk in the room. He pulled off his coat, hung it on a rack by the door and sat down on the worn vinyl cushion.
Betty grabbed a work order form and a pen. "So, what is exactly wrong with your car, Mister Moretti?"
"Please call me Frank," he said before adding, "I'm not sure."
Jack popped back in for a moment, carrying a drop cloth. Frank eyed it and the grimy clothes the mechanic wore.
Betty noted the concern on his face. "No need to get any dirt or oil on the seats," she explained. "Vehicles like that are special, we'll be sure to handle it with kid gloves."
"Well, it's a '49 Kurtis Kraft Sport, with a V8, manual transmission and...."
"Frank, I know all of the specs. I'm curious what trouble you're having. I heard you mention you drove it up from Florida, so obviously whatever is happening is sudden and I am sure as lovely as Elkton, Maryland, is, it wasn't your final stopping point. Was it?"
He chuckled. "No, it wasn't. I'm on my way up to Philadelphia. I'm one of the speakers for their Earth Week event."
Betty smirked. "Yeah, I heard about that," she shook her head in amusement. "You're all out to save the environment and protect our natural resources, right?"
Frank noted the sarcasm in her voice. "Yes, yes we are; we can't keep using and abusing the planet without suffering the consequences later. It may not affect you and me, but eventually it could affect our kids, or grandkids."
She shrugged her shoulders. "I have neither, so I think I'm pretty safe."
"Well, I have a daughter, and a grandchild, and they may not be."
She noted his frustration at her blasé attitude. "I'm sorry Mister Moretti, Frank. It's not my place to question your passion about something."
"No, it's not," he muttered under his breath.
Betty lowered her head to stare at the work order, but mainly it was to hide the grin on her face. "So tell me the problem."
"I was heading up on I-95 when there was this weird vibration. I pulled over and all the tires appeared fine, but the minute I'm up to speed it starts shaking again. I don't know cars. I drive them and buy them, but I don't know the mechanics of them. I knew though that that wasn't normal, so I slowed down and contemplated pulling over, or babying it to the next exit."
"And getting off the interstate, nursing it all the way to Elkton, instead of pulling over and parking it made sense to you? If you were looking to damage the Lady, then why not nurse it all the way to Newark, Delaware? It's a much bigger city, and there are plenty of garages that would be able to help you out. Why mine?" Betty asked.
"I bought that particular car a few years ago, and the guy I bought it from, he had purchased it from someone else, who had -- well, you know how it goes," Frank told her.
"I remember all the classics I've worked on. That is not one of my cars."
"No, but you did work on a '52 Hudson Hornet," Frank told her.
Betty grinned. "I did indeed; actually it was also the first car I ever allowed Tyler to work on. Don't tell Mister Gregory that though, he'd probably have a stroke. So he sold you that and mentioned me?"
"Well," Frank said, "he did sell it to me, but didn't mention you. He mentioned the garage. You were a," he smiled a lopsided grin, "pleasant surprise."
She laughed softly. "Yeah, I bet. So you were fortunate enough to break down near enough to us that you nursed your baby into my garage."
"Pretty much," he admitted.
"Well, I'll have to send Gregory a thank-you note, and then chastise him for allowing you to drive that beautiful automobile up here in the snow and salt."
"Is it really that bad?" he asked.
"It's not smart, not if you want to keep the body in top-notch condition. I doubt though that you've done too much damage. We'll clean it up, fix it up and have it back to you by the end of the week, next Monday at the latest."
Frank stared at her. "I need it back tonight at the latest."
She laughed, and then stopped when he continued to look imploringly at her. "You're serious, aren't you?" she asked. "Mister -- I mean, Frank, it's not that simple. You're not the only customer and that's not some brand new Plymouth you drove in for an oil change. I don't know what's wrong with it and giving you a week is being generous. If I don't have the parts needed for that particular vehicle, it could take longer."
