Blazer Boy

III

We were back at the parking lot of the middle school. Parents were pulling in, kids and bikes were going all over the place.

Within 5 minutes of getting back more than half the kids had left leaving the coaches, my dad and I, and three boys, who looked to be high schoolers.

What I found interesting was the car they were standing around - or should I say truck. Before, when I heard him talk about the Blazer, I looked it up. And surely enough, parked right in front of me was an '88 K5 Blazer. And a gorgeous one at that.

She was tall. She was built like a brick. And when he  fired her up... I melted inside.

She was a gorgeous dark blue with a light blue stripe. The blue stripe was edged with two smaller white stripes. A small amount of rust surrounded the Blazer badge on her side. Most people would see rust as a bad thing, but on her, it gave of a sense of prowess. 

You couldn't see the years dripping of her like other trucks of her age. 

She radiated the feeling of patriotism.  The American blood shed for her creation flowed from the exhaust. It oozed from the separation of panels. It screamed from the engine.

I didn't have to be American to see how much she meant to the American culture. 

All those country kids, longing for a C/K truck, and one of these boys was the proud owner - or at least the proud driver. I mean what high schooler can afford a Blazer that nice?

The three boys. One hovered around the other two, seemingly unsure of  what to do with the bright green bike he was holding. He was tall and lanky, like a tree sapling.

The two other boys were talking while putting their bikes on a bike rack which was attached to the back of the Blazer. Both boys were of an average height, although one was on the skinny side.

The other boy was pretty average looking. He wasn't skinny. He  wasn't fat. and he wasn't muscular.

Once they had gotten all the bikes on the car they all jumped in the blazer. The average height but skinny kid got in the drivers seat. He put the keys in the ignition and turned them.

She roared like nothing I'd every heard. 

By that time dad had finished talking to the coaches and we had gotten in our truck. The minute the Blazer roared to life I turned to my dad.

"I want one."

My dad leaned forward to see past me, "good luck getting one of those," and laughed.

The Blazer backed up, and then drove out of the parking lot. You could still hear her far after you'd be able to hear a regular car.

I fell in love with that truck. From that day forwards, every morning when I got to school, I'd look for it in the parking lot. After school, I'd listen for her.  And spoiler alert - I didn't get a ride in it till 3 months after the first time I saw her.