1 sister trying to catch the bus out of town + 1 dead battery + a 1976 ford Econoline - gasoline =
a phone call.
Maybe I should back up.. We thought the car would take her, and of course she was in a rush. Hurrying out the door with her backpack half packed and her hands full of every nearly forgotten thing. There is never a good time for the battery of a car to call it quits, but doesn’t it always seem to be at the worst possible moment that it rolls over and dies? Jumper cables wouldn’t work, not even with four of us coaxing and coaching “come on baby! You can do it!”. So on to plan B. We tossed my sister W’s stuff into the back of her bright orange Ford Econoline “Van Halen-Vandeliza-Orangina” that was deemed barely driveable only 1 day before. It was chaotic, and as W and my Mom rolled away. K (my beautiful cousin) and I waved goodbye.
5 minutes later…
We get a call. It’s my mom, Van Halen didn’t even make it 2 miles before she puttered out. So K and I run outside and hop inside the cab of our 1977 Ford Ranger. Honestly, it takes us a while to get out of the driveway (steep driveway). Then, when we finally get going and I make the daring shift into 3rd gear WHAM!!!! suddenly the hood of the truck pops up and we have to start all over again. By the time we finally arrive on scene W has hitched a ride to the bus station with some friendly neighbors.
15 minutes later…
For some reason or another we are bouncing along the back-roads towards home. Going yes, 35 MPH in the Big Daddy truck. It is hot and the windows are down. Somehow it’s the most poetic moment of my summer. I could drive 500 miles in your cab with the windows tilted toward my face, the old smell all over me, and both hands on the wheel.
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