Going Home by Pete Conrad

Author:Pete Conrad [Conrad, Pete]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Publisher: Lulu Press
Published: 2014-08-09T22:00:00+00:00

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Modock, Maine was like any other small hometown in rural America: one Main Street in, one bitter and lonely death out. That was what Jennifer was thinking as she hopped into the old Chevrolet truck. She sat there for a moment. It was a mustardy yellow sort of intrusion that her father had adored. She caught herself smiling as she recalled the day he got the truck back from Tim’s Paint Shop over in Kennebunk. Tim was a noted specialist in the art of rebirthing tired and worn metal. Often, the old trucks and cars he restored would also be the rebirth of their owners. Owning a classic car, it seemed to Jennifer, was good for the entire family. It brought them together and families went on excursions because of them. She recalled one trip to Rutland, Vermont to a car show. It was a pretty place, Rutland was, and as she sat on the cold vinyl bench seat she wanted to drive that truck all the way back to Rutland, Vermont and get an ice cream cone from the Ben and Jerry’s Ice Cream Shop near the train tracks, if it was still there. Maybe it was — maybe it wasn’t. But how joyful her father was when Tim drove up in the newly painted Chevy. She seemed to remember that tears might have even welled up in his eyes when he saw the truck. She was only a teen then, perhaps even only a tween. But, now, here she sat in the truck. The truck seemed lonely, like it didn’t have much to give anymore. It looked like it could barely run and the paint, well, her father would be disappointed in the condition of the paint.

Jennifer looked around the inside of the truck. She felt the suicide knob with the black eight-ball on it and the eight-track cassette player. The seats were worn with patina, if vinyl can be described as having a patina, and the dogs had worn the paint off of the metal doors just above the window crank, where they rested their heads. Jennifer would have liked to tell Justine that she possessed a current driver’s license, if only to save Justine from the fretting and worrying, but one does not need to maintain a driver’s license when one is carted around in a car that cost more than most houses in Maine.

Jennifer turned the key and the truck fired right up, purring like the day it was born, except for the blue smoke that burst from its tailpipe. Oddly, there was an eight-track cassette hanging out of the player. The label was faded and illegible. Jennifer put the truck into drive and simultaneously pushed the cassette in. As she glided away from the house, Rod Stewart’s voice blared from the tinny speakers telling Jennifer to stay with him, sit down, get up, and get out. Jennifer cranked up the music and soared through her hometown, Modock, Maine, Rural America.

Driving a beater ‘72 Chevy

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