Spare Tire Blues

by Jeff Baker

“You’re kidding!” Jasper Wheeler said gawking at the old heap parked in the garage. “Old Man Kingston left you that?”

“Yeah!” Eddie Shooter said. “Isn’t it great?”

“Maybe about 1956 it would’ve been great, but now…” Jasper’s voice trailed off. He stared at the ancient garage, really a carport on the side of the old garage separate from Eddie’s parent’s house on the edge of town. The house had been rebuilt and refurbished, the garage just shored up. The carport looked like a lean-to.

The car wasn’t in much better shape. Rust seemed to be its best feature. Seats covered by towels, worn interior, dashboard looked okay at least.

“How’d you get this here anyway?” Jasper asked.

“Drove it,” Eddie said. “Well, kind of. Towed it last night but the engine works enough that it kinda helped to get the car right in here. It was Old Man Kingston’s son’s big project.”

Jasper nodded. Kingston’s son had died before either of the twenty somethings had been born.

“He rebuilt some of it, I know that,” Eddie said. “And he was working on the engine. I have a box of parts, and…” Eddie waved a roll of paper in the air. “…plans he wrote out!”

“It’s why his Dad never got rid of the car,” Jasper said.”

“Yeah.” Eddie said. “Look, I figure it’ll take a few months to actually get this in working order again. The wheels and all are okay…”

“Amazingly enough.” Jasper said.

“Look, when I get it running again, I want you to be my first official passenger. After the inspection and the licensing that is.” Eddie took Jasper’s hand and looked into his eyes. “There’s a big question I want to ask you. But not now.”

Eddie grinned. This was like the night they’d first kissed four years ago when they were both going to school and working and grabbing every moment together. He was sure what his answer was going to be.

—end—