|Queen Of the Road. (standard:humor, 2311 words)|
|Author: Oscar A Rat||Added: Jul 09 2020||Views/Reads: 226/140||Story vote: 0.00 (0 votes)|
|The career of a special old Ford, as told by a junkyard dog.|
Hi there. My name's Homer .... Homer the junkyard dog. You might think I don't know nothin', being only a dog and not a very important one at that. But I do one hell a job, if you ask me, and have sired numerous litters a successful pups in my time. The girls love my brash, no nonsense, attitude. All us junkyard dogs get that way with the troubles that come with this job. What with rats ta catch, and burglars and kids ta chase away or they'll steal my master blind. Believe me, buddy, it ain't any easy job I done got. But my job and life, tough as it is, is nothin' compared ta the lives a some a my charges -- the cars and trucks stored here. Believe me, Jack, some a them have gone through hell before getting here, their final resting place. The end a the line, buddy. At least I can do what I can ta make their retirements peaceful an uneventful. I spend a lot'a time lying under them, watching for trouble. No sleeping on the job for me. After awhile, I tend ta hear these guys and gals whisper their stories ta me. Now cut it out, asshole, I'm not kidding or going nuts. They do whisper ta me. There's a lot a stories pent up in here, buddy, a whole lot. Like ... take this 1928 Ford, here. She's a shy little thing now, but that's only because she's old and a wreck. Betty's her name, but she prefers "Bootsy." Let me tell you Bootsy's story.... **** It was in late 1928 when she done rolled off the assembly line. I found out long ago that cars don't acquire any personality until then, when they finally hit the pavement at the end a that line – finished and ready ta roll. Anyway, Bootsy was parked in the huge factory lot, ready ta be shipped, the world at her feet -- or tires. She was full'a potential energy and raring ta go. You ever stand in a new car lot and feel the energy stored in those new vehicles, huh? Looking like they're ready ta take ta the air. I know you have. If you didn't have a good imagination you wouldn't even be reading this story, Jack. Well, in those huge parking lots, full a brand new cars, all anxious ta go out and conquer the roads and highways, the feeling is almost tangible. And new Bootsy was no exception. If she'd had any fuel in her she would have literally flown out onto the freeway, spreading rubber across the country. Bootsy had a long wait, though, champing at the brake, so ta speak. It took her a month ta be loaded onta a railcar for a trip ta Chicago, the Windy City. She enjoyed the train trip, studying the countryside, mostly the backs a houses and slum areas, all the way from Detroit ta Chi-town. Arriving in the Windy City, Bootsy found herself parked in a line a cars at a car lot. For the next couple a days, she was treated ta a lot'a loving care. She had people shining her up, even scrubbing her tire treads with a brush. Her insides were polished an re-polished, an her windshield shined ta reflect the sun. Little Bootsy felt like a queen, with all that attention. She had every good feeling but love. Bootsy realized it was only business but, still, it felt so good. People would open her doors an get inside, bouncing on her seats and turning her steering wheel, always telling her how beautiful she was. It felt so nice ta be in demand. But, as much as she enjoyed the attention, she wanted ta drive, drive, drive. Not sit, sit, sit. Then, it finally happened. For the first time, an employee took her ta a gas pump an filled her up with gasoline. Bootsy could feel all that power waiting in her tank, roaring ta get out. A few final checks an she was parked out front a the building, instead'a in her usual place. She could feel envy in nearby autos, most still parked in silent ranks, still'a waiting. Click here to read the rest of this story (187 more lines)
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