Drive - A Memoir 78th Installment
and
a jigger of gas down the carburetor.” Russ checked off. Meanwhile,
I scrambled in the drivers seat and twisted the ignition. The engine
turned over, fired, ran a couple revs on its own, stalled, backfired,
blew a column of fire out of the carburetor and sat there smoking.
“See
that! It’s gonna run,” I exclaimed laughing. This struck us both
funny, and we laughed until the tears rolled. I hit the starter again
and with the next cranking it sprang to life! Boy was it loud! I
revved the engine, my heart pounding, my grin so big my face hurt. I
let off the gas, and as the engine rumbled back to an idle, the
echoes and reverberation seemed to shake my innards, sending a
shivering thrill all through me. There’s nothing more exciting for
a fourteen–year–old than to control that much noise and power.
“LET’S GO!” I screamed over the roar of the engine.
“I’ll
do the test drive, I’m older,” Russ shouted, trying to shove me
over on the driver’s seat.
“What
difference does that make,” I whined.
“I’m
closer to getting my driver’s license, that’s why.” Russ tried
to drag me out of the driver’s seat. I had my feet hooked under
the clutch and brake pedals, and a very firm grip on the steering
wheel. It was going to be impossible to move me out of the driver’s
seat.
“Driver’s
License! So what! Living in this outback desert thirty–five miles
from nowhere, we drive underage; we drive fast; we drive recklessly;
we drive illegal vehicles; we shoot anything that dares to set foot
on our land; we lie; we cheat; we steal,” I was listing everything
I could think of.
“Shut
up, Casey. What’s your point?” Russ said clearly agitated.
“We
have NEVER seen a cop north of sage junction, never. The closest
copper is the mostly drunk sheriff of Jefferson County from Rigby.
Have you ever seen a policeman or his car in your life?” I
questioned through gritted teeth.
“No!”
Russ said simply. “But, none the less, I’ll drive the Gizzy and
test’er out.”
“Okay,
crap!” I let go of my grip on the wheel. “But as soon as I get
older
than you, I’ll never give in again,” I promised grimly.
“Move
over, shut up and hang on!” he shouted and took the control of our
powerful, marvelous and probably deadly machine. He got on the gas
quickly so the engine wouldn’t die as the idle was set too low. He
shoved it in gear, tromped the throttle down, and dumped the clutch.
We felt a lurch and some shaking, but we weren’t moving. I flipped
round on my knees to look behind. The wheels were turning in the
dirt, but the Whiz Gizzy wasn’t moving.
“Ha
ha, the Gizzy has been sitting so long the front wheels have sunk in
the ground and the ‘front to rear
500 more words tomorrow
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