Souring Youth

Flowering in Adversity

The prattling of cicadas and the brush of soft breezes barely registered in your mind, which was focused on Mr. Morgan's malfunctioning car. A stinging sunburn was beginning to form on your nape, and sweat that clung to the baby hairs of your neck no longer alleviated any pain. The open hood of the vehicle stared up at you, steaming and sputtering its woes.

"Do you know what's wrong with it?"

Mr. Morgan was a jittery, nervous young man; the kind that looked like he must've been the weakest kid in his class growing up, and who always wound up in trouble for something he didn't do. Flaxen, stringy hair on his head was wildly tossed about by the gentle wind. His lanky body swayed with the tall stalks of corn that were in the surrounding fields. He wasn't born in this town; that much you knew. One day he just appeared, bought a snippet of land from your father, and had been living there in a little shack ever since. He kept to himself a lot, and being surrounded by miles and miles of land owned by one person meant that he didn't have to put up with many neighbors. You took pity on the man because of his anxious behavior, but at some point he would have to learn how to fix his own car. Understandably, Mr. Morgan was petrified of the burly and assertive resident-repair-man Mr. Mcguire, but to call you on your day off because of such a simple problem rubbed you the wrong way.

"Mr. Morgan," your voice lilted from exhaustion before continuing in a slow manner. "When you first purchased this car from Mrs. Myers did she tell you the importance of refilling the engine coolant every now and then?" He blinked dumbly as he wiped away fresh sweat with a soiled handkerchief. "Because to be quite frank, Mr. Morgan, I know that lady well, and I doubt she'd leave out something so important."

"Is that what those blue bottles of slush are for?" He asked, pointing back at his house a few feet away.

You nodded.

As if sensing your waning patience, Mr. Morgan scuttled over to the house, throwing a 'Lemme get one for ya!' over his shoulder before disappearing behind a mesh door. You were displeased with yourself for letting your annoyance get the better of you, but you didn't feel bad per se. Mr. Morgan reappeared almost as quickly as he had ran inside, and produced a bottle of electric blue engine coolant for you to handle.

"Okay, now watch what I do." Untwisting the cap, you showed him how to refill the coolant tank. "Like most other machines, cars are powered by engines. These engines convert gasoline into motion by a process called internal combustion, which essentially means that the engines generate power by causing a series of controlled explosions within them. The explosions happen at the top of the pistons and create huge amounts of expanding gas that push the pistons downward. That downward stroke is what gets a car's wheels to move. Then, the waste gas is removed from the engine via the exhaust, and the process repeats itself until you turn off the engine." He nodded, no longer looking at what you were doing, and instead stood gaping at you, unabashedly.

"Engine coolant is important because it keeps the engine from overheating. If the engine becomes too hot, engine failure will occur, and I'm afraid even I wouldn't be able to fix it after that. Lack of engine coolant can also warp the cylinder heads and the engine block, two parts that are difficult to replace depending on the car brand you have."

"Where'd you learn all that, Miss?" He looked at you in awe. What was a senior in highschool like you doing walking around with all that information in your head?

"I read it in a book, and still haven't forgotten it, thankfully." Smiling, you brought your hand to his shoulder. "I better get on back home now."

"Alright. Thank you for the help! 'N sorry for interrupting your day off."

You nodded your farewell before setting off up the dusty pathway. Being this deep within your father's property meant it'd be a long walk back home. You brought your hands behind your head and whistled a happy tune to pass the time, before looking up.