Waiting on the Sidelines

By the time I was a full 20 miles out of town I started to get excited. This was the farthest I had ever been alone, on my own. It felt…amazing. I turned the radio up and rolled down my window to let the warm sunshine-baked air touch my cheek and arm. The small hills on either side of me were speckled with cactus and desert brush, green from the recent rains. The blacktop had recently been paved on this stretch of the roadway and the jet black looked cool against the dusty brown of the surrounding landscape.

I was already halfway there and still had nearly an hour to make it to my appointment. I could stop at Starbucks, I thought. I always wanted to do that. It felt like an adult thing to do.

I was startled a little when the radio cut out a few times. The speakers were making loud popping sounds every time, almost like the radio was shorting out. I shut it off thinking maybe if I turned it on again in a few minutes it would kick in – that’s how we usually fixed things on the Olds.

When I killed the tunes, though, I became very aware of the sounds the car was making. Almost sputtering. I tried giving it more gas, but it just sputtered more, jerking and whining, louder and louder. Finally, everything on the car just felt limp. I forced my steering wheel to the side of the road, but it was hard to turn. I was traveling at a crawling speed by the time I got to the dirt area off the road and out of the way of traffic, not that there were many vehicles traveling on this stretch at 10:15 a.m. on a weekday.

Son of a… I hate this f**king car!

I got out on the passenger side; at least one thing my dad told me stuck. I pulled the hand towel from the glove box and headed to the hood to unhook the latch. The hood was always blazing hot, so I wrapped the towel around my hand while I held it. I had no idea what I was looking at, but something smelled burnt even though nothing really looked out of place. I walked back to the driver’s seat to try to start the car again and it just clicked and then sat there silent.

I beat my hands on the steering wheel a few times and threw the towel up on the enormous dashboard. I put my head down and looked at my watch. I had 45 minutes. OK, I just need to get Mike here in time. I can still make it.

I dialed Mike’s number and held my breath as I counted the rings. When it went to his voicemail I hung up and repeated. Each time I called, I got his voicemail. I finally left one begging him to call me as soon as he could and pleading with him to rescue me.

I stared at my watch waiting. I would give it until 10:40 before I called the pool number and pathetically explained my situation. Always, it’s always this stupid car!

I was entranced by the second hand and didn’t notice the giant, black Chevy truck that had pulled in front of me. I looked up only when I heard the crunch of boots on the roadway. My heart jumped and bile hit the back of my throat from panic at first, but when my eyes finally focused I realized who it was. Buck Johnson was walking my way, a toothpick hanging out of the side of his mouth and the world’s biggest coffee cup loading down one hand.

“Hey, sugar. I thought that was you! Come help me pop this baby up so we can see what’s doin’,” he said, the words melting from him with charm.

“Oh my god, I’m so glad you drove by,” I fumbled my way out of the car and grabbed the towel. I lifted the hood and watched as Buck stared at it, chewed on his toothpick and then stared some more. He lifted a few things and moved some pieces that I, frankly, didn’t know could move.

“Smells pretty bad, don’t she,” he said, taking the hood from me. “I don’t know for certain, but it looks like you’ve got a blown alternator. Probably a whole host of other things, too. I’m shocked this puppy’s still runnin’.”

I must have looked like I was about to cry because he immediately went into rescue mode. “Where you headed? I can take you home, but I’ve got a meeting I have to get to in Tucson shortly.”

“I have an interview in Chandler,” I said. “It’s just a summer job. It’s… it’s ok. I can reschedule, I hope.” I threw the last part in unconsciously.

“Nonsense,” he said, pulling his phone from his pocket and holding up a hand telling me to just wait a minute.

I just stared as he paced through the desert brush a bit while his phone rang someone on the other end. “Hey, you bozo. Are you still sleeping?” he laughed. “Shouldn’t you be at the gym?... Yeah, well, I need you do to something for me.”

He looked up at me and gave me his famous wink and half grin. “You know that girly friend of yours? The one that has great taste in cars? … yeah, Nolan. Well, she’s out here on highway 89 stuck in the middle of nowhere.”