A Dustland Fairytale

"Took her down to the carwash, check the plugs and the points - I'm goin out tonight I'm gonna rock that joint." - Bruce Springsteen

On Saturday morning, I woke up bright and early. The sun was shining blindingly through the window and reflecting off the hardwood floor of my bedroom, straight into my eyes. I rolled over, away from the brilliant sunlight, to pick up my phone. To my surprise, I had two voicemails. People usually didn’t call me, especially before nine on a Saturday morning.

I held the phone to my ear and listened to the voicemails. The first was from my sister, who’d called very late Friday night. “Hey, Dean! I know you know we’re playing tonight down at Peabody’s. I haven’t seen you in forever and it would be great to see you there. I mean, I left three years ago and when I heard you were moving out here, I thought I’d see you more… yes, this is a guilt trip. Be there!” She laughed and the message ended. A smile crossed my face as I thought of my sister’s delight at seeing me at their concert tonight.

The next message was from Zack. He’d called me at six forty-three this morning. I wondered how on earth he’d woken up that early before I remembered he played soccer, and they had practice every morning at seven. “Hey, man, I talked to my dad about a place for you to work on your bike. He said he’s got a friend named Leo who owns a shop on Young Street with plenty of room for you to work on your bike. He also said he might offer you a job – depending on whether or not you know what you’re doing. And you’re supposed to call if you decide to go up there. Here’s the number.” Zack paused, read off a phone number and address, and hung up the phone.

I rolled over again, the sun still reflecting brightly off the floor. Reluctantly I got out of my bed and got dressed before going downstairs. My dad was sitting at the kitchen table, his face hidden by the front pages newspaper while Stacy read the Style section. I cleared my throat, alerting them of my presence.

“Good morning,” Stacy said, her smile showing off her artificially whitened teeth. Her long, manicured fingernails clicked against the table as she turned a page in the newspaper.

“Good morning,” I responded, pouring myself a mug of coffee. “Hey, Dad, can I borrow the Corvette tonight?”

He allowed the newspaper to fall so that he could look at me, eyebrows raised. “I barely drive that car anymore. I’d check it out before you actually take it out on the road. And I think it needs to be washed.”

“But I can take it?” Since we moved out to California, my dad had hardly driven his once-prized vintage Corvette. He’d bought a Porsche Boxster and drove that daily, leaving the dark blue Corvette in our garage.

“I suppose,” he said, his attention turning back to the newspaper. “Just don’t bring it back totaled. I might not drive it anymore, but I still love that car. And the keys are on a hook in the garage.”

“Thanks,” I said, a wide smile crossing my face. “Do we have soap I could use to wash the car around here somewhere?”

“Check the garage,” Dad replied.

Stacy, surprised, said, “Why don’t you just take it to the car wash? I’m sure someone else could do a great job washing that car.”

“It’d scratch the paint on the car. Plus I want to wash it myself,” I said as I walked out the door, carrying my coffee with me out to the garage. I unrolled the canvas cover, revealing the midnight blue paint of the car I’d always wanted to drive. It was the reason I’d learned to drive stick shift and the reason I’d become interested in cars. I was heartbroken when my dad replaced it with a brand-new Porsche and left it in the garage to collect dust.

Setting my coffee down on an shelf full of gardening tools, I picked up the keys from the nail where they hung, got into the car, and put the keys in the ignition. With baited breath and my foot on the clutch, I turned the keys. The engine turned almost instantly, the comforting sound of an engine at idle filling the spacious garage. I grinned and turned off the car but left the keys in the ignition. After checking the oil level and the filters, searching for leaks in fluid lines, and inspecting the engine, I rolled the car out of the garage and washed it. It needed new oil and was almost out of gas, which meant I had some work to do today before I picked up Juliet.

The car sparkled brightly after an hour’s worth of washing and waxing. I walked inside the house and saw Stacy still sitting at the kitchen table, her laptop open in front of her. “Is Dad around here?” I asked.

“No,” she responded. “I think he went for a walk. Why, do you need him?”

“No,” I said, pushing my sweaty dark hair away from my face. “I’m taking the car over to a shop so I can do some work on it.”

“Are you capable of doing that?” She looked up from her laptop, her gray eyes doubtful.

“It’s not like I’m ripping out the engine and replacing everything,” I said. “It just needs new oil and probably a new filter and gas.”

“Fine,” she sighed. “Just don’t destroy the car. I don’t think your father would be too happy about that.”

“Neither would I,” I said. “I’ll be back later.” I walked out to the car and was about to start it again when I remembered I was supposed to call Leo before heading over there. I left a message with his secretary telling him I would be there soon before driving starting the car and heading towards the shop. I stopped at the first gas station I saw to fill up the car before picking up the oil and filters I knew the car would need. I was running low on money and would probably need to find a job soon – either that or ask my dad for more money, which I was not planning on doing.

After ten minutes of driving, I found the shop: Leo’s Auto Shop, in the middle of a strip of car dealerships. I pulled into the shop and left the car in the parking lot, walked into the office, and stopped at the desk. “Is Leo around?” I asked the girl sitting there.

“He’s in the shop,” she said. “You’re the kid that called, right? Don’s kid’s friend?”

“Yeah,” I said.

She nodded. “Go on in.” She gestured towards the door, behind which I heard Led Zeppelin blaring over the sounds of auto repair. I walked into the shop, the familiar smell of oil and gasoline filling my nose.

“Hey!” I turned to see a fairly young man with dark curly hair walking towards me, wiping his hands on a greasy rag. “You’re Dean, huh?” He spoke with a thick Italian accent, a smile on his face. “I’m Leo. You got a bike you wanna work on?”

“Yeah, I’m Dean,” I replied, shaking his hand, which still had grease around his knuckles and fingernails. “But I’ve actually got a car that needs some tuning up, if that’s okay.”

“Sure,” he said, a wide smile on his face. “Bring her in, we’ve got plenty of room in here. You’re not doing anything major, are you?”

“No,” I said, shaking my head. “Thanks for letting me work here.”

“No problem, kid,” Leo replied. “If you’re really good, I could use a kid to do some detailing.”

Smiling, I said, “I’ll think about it. But I’ve got some work to do.” I walked out of the shop and started the Corvette, bringing it into the shop to an empty space Leo pointed out to me.

“Nice car,” he said, popping the hood for me. “Hasn’t been loved, though, has she?”

“Not recently,” I said, wiping off my hands before disappearing under the hood myself. “I plan on changing that, though.” Leo clapped me on the shoulder and walked away from the car, leaving me to work in peace. I had all day before I had to pick Juliet up that night, and I planned on showing the car all the love she deserved. I smiled and hummed along to Led Zeppelin, feeling truly happy for the first time since we’d moved away from New York.