The Irrational Fear of the Human Mind

Flirtation and Seduction

School wasn’t open. In fact it hasn’t been open for a week now. Lightning struck the big oak out the front of the school and a gale pushed it over – bringing it down on the main office. Other than that, the weather has been clearing up, the news said that it was a freak-storm that passed through most of Louisiana, and that it was gone and we should be expecting clear and sunny weather with tops of 800F. But then again you can’t trust the news these days. The shop has also been closed most of the week, due to water damage in the roof. Today, it was open and I offered to come in since Jerry isn’t in because his wife is having a baby. Gary gladly accepted my offer and was happy for the help. White River Mechanic is the only mechanic in town. Besides auto repairs, we supply gas and oil, tiers and air, and a full car clean and polish. We have a monster double sided garage with two giant roller-doors, with a single automatic-opening door at the right end, which leads into the cashier station and office. We also have another garage that is to the left of the repair one, which we use as a holding area for fixed cars – it can hold ten cars at a time. The two gas pumps are at the front of the main building, while the wash is on the left side of the building.
      “Mornin’ kiddo.” Gary calls from under the hood of a car, as I get out of my car.

“Mornin’. Where do you want me to start?”

“You can have a look at that.” He uses a spanner to point to the other side of the garage. “I haven’t had a chance to look at it yet.” He mumbles as he puts the spanner to use. I pull on my grease-stained overalls over the top of a white shirt and black slacks. I wander over to the second door of the garage and hit a button to open it. It beeps and begins to roll, creakily up. I gasp in wonder and excitement and run to the car that awaits my attention. Gary pulls is head out of the bonnet and laughs. He’s not a small guy, rather chubby around the edges with a small beer-gut hanging over his overall pants. He wears a white shirt like me and the standard work overalls, except Gary doesn’t adjust the top part of the overalls – he just curls them up and lets it hang down the front of him. Jerry and I joke that is because they won’t reach over the top his gut. His hazelnut hair is receding and greying slightly, and his fingers are always black with grease. “I thought you’d like it.” He wipes his hands with an old rag that hangs from his waist. “Your dad was crazy about these cars. Almost as crazy as he was about your car there.” He inclines his head to my packed car. My dad used to own the shop before he died. Gary and he had been friends since primary school. That’s why Gary took it over after his death. He says he’ll return ownership to me if I want it.

“Whose is it?” I bask in its cobra-black hue.

“Ah…that new girl’s. You know, the one that just moved to town?”

“Vidia?” I look up.

“Yeah…I think that’s her name. Anyway she called and complained that she was having trouble starting it.” He walks over to the glass case that hangs on the far wall, containing every car key that we have in the shop. He unlocks it with a key that he pulls from his key-holder on his belt, and throws me a single car key. I catch it and read the plastic tag. V. Everleigh. Is scribbled in Gary’s handwriting. “Do you know what year it is?” He crosses his arm and smirks, testing me.

“You know I do.” I grin and unlock the car. “It’s a 1967, Ford Shelby Mustang GT500.” I say as I slide into the driver’s seat, turning the key in the ignition. It splutters and then slowly drowns out. I start it again, same reaction.