2am Cruise

She's calling out to him

  He awoke suddenly and unexpectedly at 2am on that warm mid-summer night, he couldn't stop thinking about her.
  He tried distracting himself by staring out the bedroom window, but the bright full moon was only adding to his restlessness.
  Maybe some music would help. Nope, nothing but crappy songs on the radio. Okay then, how about some TV?  That was nothing but channel after channel of infomercials, forget that!
  Turning off the TV, he decided there was nothing he could do but go to her, even at this hour she wouldn't mind at all.
  He got dressed, went outside and walked towards the carport and there she was, right where he left her, chrome and highly polished stainless steel shining brightly in the moonlight, for she was no woman of flesh and blood, she was a 1966 Chevrolet Impala Super Sport that he had rebuilt and enhanced with his own two hands.
  She was painted Navy Blue, clearcoated, and polished to a finish that looked deep enough to wade in, her interior was redone in light blue, and she rode on 15 inch wire wheels.
  The transmission was a rebuilt four-speed automatic that had been salvaged from a half-ton pickup.
  He had removed her old worn-out heart and transplanted a 427 cubic inch big block that had been overhauled with all the latest and greatest parts and machine work. All this power was put to the ground by an aftermarket positraction rear axle that was made to take whatever the souped up engine could dish out.
  He slowly walked around her, lightly touching her, feeling the glass smooth paint under his fingertips, recalling the day he first saw her. She was sitting on this very property when he bought it, laying broken and forgotten in a row of hedge trees where she'd spent the last decade or so sitting on flat and rotted tires, slowly sinking into the ground, weather worn paint covered with dust, hedge balls, and bird droppings.
  Where most people would only see an old junk car, he saw a car that could be like new again, even better than new and knowing he had the means to make that happen, he took pity on her and decided right then to save her from her undeserved fate.
  He worked out a deal with the seller that would include car title along with the deed to the house, then moved her to a shop he'd rented in the city and as time and money allowed, restored her to her former glory and then some.
  He'd completed her resurrection just hours before he had to go out of town for a few days on a business trip and had only brought her home earlier that day.
  On sudden impulse, he opens the driver's door and slips in behind the wheel, then longing to hear her voice again, inserts the key in the ignition switch, cranks the engine to life. It caught instantly with a commanding rumble, not overly loud, just enough to make their presence known.
  After about a minute to warm up, she was ready to go, he eased her out of the carport onto the blacktop road leading to the main highway to the city three miles away.
  They glided along the road with the smoothness of flight, so once on the highway, he opened her up allowing her to take a full bite. Take a full bite she did, the speedometer quickly climbed. Seventy, eighty, ninety-five, one hundred-ten, still she wanted more, but the city lights were fast approaching so he reluctantly eased off the accelerator and stepped on the brakes.