More Whips; Fewer Chains

Chapter 2

Chapter 2

The Test Drive:

"You must understand, though the touch of your hand makes my pulse react. That It's only the thrill of boy meeting girl, opposites attract."

What's love got to do with it? Tina Turner

The next day I posted an advertisement in the local newspaper for the Morgan. The ad read:

1967 Morgan Plus 4 Super Sports Roadster

Low miles, one owner, extremely well maintained.

$5700 firm. Call after 6PM

I had gotten a couple of calls; one from a guy who tried to tell me it was only worth $2000, and that he'd 'do me a favor' by taking it off my hands for $2500. Apparently since he could tell by the sound of my voice over the phone, that I was a woman, that gave him even more confidence. I politely thanked him for his offer and then promptly hung-up on him.

When the phone rang again, less than thirty seconds later, I yelled, "LISTEN ASSHOLE, THE AD SAYS $5700 FIRM!!!" A somewhat less smarmy and much deeper, in-fact-you-could-even-say-it-was-pleasant, voice calmly came though the receiver with, "I see. Well, you needn't be rude about it." As the realization hit me that this was not the same person, I could immediately feel myself turning red. I was completely flustered. Somehow, I think the person on the other end of the line could sense this. He, (for obviously it was a man) began to speak in a soothing but mirthful tone, "I take it you've had other inquiries." A wave of relief washed over me, and I let out an uncontrolled giggle. Once I regained my composure, I replied with, "You could say that." The soothing voice was back again, in mellifluous tones he said, "I'm interested in seeing the Morgan, can we make arrangements for later this week?" I gave him Grampa Charlie's address and told him I could meet him on Wednesday afternoon. (It was Tuesday)

When I awoke that Wednesday morning, for some reason, I felt like I needed to put a little more effort into my appearance. Since it was summer, I thought I'd wear the new A-line forties style navy dress with white polka dots, ala Princess Diana, that I found at the mall. I usually don't like wearing hats, but the panama with the matching navy-blue band completed the ensemble nicely. I was tempted to wear white gloves, but I felt like that was a little over-the-top. I've never been one to wear much make-up, so I went with the bare minimum, just moisturizer, eyeliner and lipstick. Of course, it being the 80's I couldn't leave the house without applying a little Chanel No. 5. I grabbed my satin beaded purse and a pair of strappy sandals and made my way over to Grampa Charlie's house.

At five minutes to two o'clock on Wednesday, a well-worn Volvo station wagon pulled into my grandfather's (now mine) driveway and came to a screeching stop. I could tell that the driver had cut the engine, but the car continued running for a few seconds afterward. The door opened and from the vehicle emerged a man in his early thirties. He was tall, I estimated about six feet and from the looks of it, in peak physical condition. His chiseled jawline had a bit of a five o'clock shadow and he had dark brown, collar-length hair that seemed a little unkempt, yet stylish. He was wearing a ridiculous tweed driving cap, elegant gloves, and a matching tweed jacket, with the patches on the elbows. As if this wasn't enough, he had even donned a blue ascot with yellow polka-dots on it. All he needed was a pipe to complete the ensemble. I giggled into the back of my hand, when he made eye contact with me.

"Pardon the car, it belongs to my mother.", he said. "It doesn't leak oil, from what she tells me, so it should be safe to leave it in the driveway.", he stated off-handedly as he removed the glove from his right hand. He then held out his hand, looked me dead in the eye. "Fletcher Chambers" Instinctively, I took his hand, but for some reason when I met his overwhelmingly intense gaze, I found it incredibly difficult to maintain eye contact. "Aaand you are?" "Kate Stephens" I quickly recovered. "A pleasure to meet you" he said with a smile. My heart skipped a beat.