Days are flying past now and things are going really good! Door 42 is a rockin’ joint! The band is tight now and we’ve started playing Friday and Saturday nights and it’s really packing the house. I’ve even got other groups coming in wanting to play here, so I’ll try ‘em out on a Wednesday night and see how they do. If they suck I’ll give ‘em some pointers and tell ‘em to come back in a month or so and try again. A couple have gotten pretty ok and I’ve put them in a rotation of Thursday and Sunday shows. Letting the other musicians see that I’m open to this is really getting them to step up their game. Let’s face it, one of the whole points of playing music is to be able to play out and maybe get high and get laid after the show. If it’s not like that for you, you’re doing it wrong.
Todd has developed a new golden rum that is getting really popular. It’s not just gold colored, it’s got real gold in it! He managed to combine the rum he and Christi have been making with the alchemical technique I helped him figure out, and now produces a rum with nano particles of pure gold that stay molecularly bonded to the liquor. They do not settle out, ever, and it gives the rum a really cool, mildly sparkly, light golden hue, and an interesting, pleasant twang. When he first brought it to me, I poured some in a glass, threw in a couple ice cubes and some pineapple juice, then took a gold foil umbrella toothpick, opened it over backwards a bit so it looked like a satellite dish, stuck a cherry on it, put it in the drink, called it a Lunar Lander and handed it to Christi. I just did it on a whim because I thought it was funny. It is now one of our most requested drinks!
People are using the pool and card rooms now. I taught a few people to play, the ones who really liked it showed their friends, and it’s starting to catch on. Some of them are starting to talk about tournaments already, but there aren’t enough players for that yet. I’ve no doubt there will be though.
The classes are still going really well, too. In fact, a few of my students have gotten it down so good that they’re now developing their own examples that are at least as good as mine, maybe better, and are starting to further expand the understanding, really studying it, and teaching master classes of their own. Some of which I think are better than mine. Everyone still wants to take my class though, it has developed the aura of being ‘The Original’.
We’ve got enough extra help at the bar now that me and the girls have moved into one of the fancy townhouses down past the gas station. We still stay at the bar some nights, but when it’s not too busy it’s nice to come back here to just be able to relax in some peace and quiet, and flop around, and even sleep in our own bed by ourself if we want to. Defying all expectation, we are still getting along. Yeah, there’s some friction here and there, show me a relationship where there isn’t. But we’re all happy with our life and what we’re doing, and we each understand that we wouldn’t have that without the others. So it works out.
We each have a bike and a jeep now, so getting around is not a problem. Bethy has become a freaking fighter pilot in her jeep. Fast, skilled, and precise. I haven’t put her in Sleepy Jeepy yet, but I won’t be able to put it off much longer. For now, I found some pinstripe brushes and paint and scripted her name on the side of her jeep with little licks of flame coming off of it. It took a few tries, but it looks good. She’s very proud of it and shows it off whenever she gets the chance. Bethy, in fact, is the one who taught both Al, and Trina to drive, and they’re both doing great. She’s giving Christi lessons now. Al and I are working with Todd, though. You know, bro time.
I finally got Trina to tell me why she wanted to lock doors when I first got here (of course, down here we all have doors that lock now, with knobs and keys and everything, you know, Ye Olde Earthe style). She sheepishly admitted that she didn’t really have a plan, it just seemed like some useful information that nobody else had, and there had to be an angle in it somewhere. When I asked her what she thought that angle might be, she just said, “You wouldn’t show me, so I never really got any farther than that. Besides, I like your angle better,” and snuggled up a little closer.
A lot of people have started calling me Chief now. Which is fine, just a little… unexpected, maybe? It all really started with Al after the first ride in Sleepy Jeepy. Then Bethy picked up on it, mostly just to fuck with me at first, I think. Then Trina, Christi, Todd, Michael and all his kitchen staff, all the other help in the bar, the guys in the band, the guys in the other bands, all the regulars, and it’s just kind of spreading around like a social disease. I always introduce myself as Aaron, but if anyone else introduces me now it’s usually Chief. It’s alright though I guess, you never get to pick your own nickname, and it could be a lot worse. At least they’re not calling me Cocknocker. It’s just that, this connection between me and the old Chief, it’s there, and it’s undeniably real, and I absolutely do not understand it at all, and it really bothers me if I think about it too much. It’s why I haven’t woken up Miss Chief yet. I’m afraid of what I might learn about myself when I do.
I’m not avoiding Miss Chief though. I go down to the clubhouse pretty regular to hang out and let her know I still care. Don’t want her getting pissed off at me, and as far as I can tell she’s not, but I have the feeling she’s getting a little impatient. Al comes down a few times a week, sometimes Todd comes along to sit in the lounge with us and listen to us older guys talk shit and tell lies. I think Miss Chief enjoys having people in here again, makes her feel like she’s part of the world instead of just some old, forgotten relic gathering dust. Most times we’ll take one of the other rods out for a spin and burn through a tank of gas. They each have their own, unique personality.
Sleepy Jeepy, as I’ve mentioned before, is fun. Quick and slippery, not the fastest but fast enough, maneuverable, and surprisingly forgiving. 2 For Fun! 4 To Run! is painted on the dash.
Dragon Wagon, on the other hand, is like driving a heavy metal concert. It’s big, loud, heavy, and hardcore through and through. It has the most radical cam of the three, and idles like something big is broken in the engine. The weight, stance, wheelbase, and suspension really make the duals hook up, and the monster cam makes you launch at a high rpm. You either stall, or lift the front wheels off the floor. There’s no middle ground with this one, it’s either on or off. It’s also hard to maneuver, but goes really well in a straight line and is incredibly fast for what it is. It tops out at 120, but will get there in about a quarter mile, lift the wheels with every shift, and carry them as far as your balls will let you. It’s badass, but you have to drive it like a MAN! BALLS OUT! is painted on the dash.
This novel's true home is a different platform. Support the author by finding it there.
Moon Draggin’ is the most refined combination. It has less cam and idles like a rowdy street car. It has good bottom end, longer legged gears, and gets off the line quick without all the drama of the Dragon Wagon or the tire smoking frivolity of Sleepy Jeepy. The lowered, nose up stance and softer suspension means that you spin the tires and raise the nose until the back bumper drags the floor and then you flat out hook up and go! The wide powerband is a good match with the three speed transmission so there’s not a lot of drama on the way to the 140+ top speed. At least from the drivetrain end. The suspension is a little wallowy though, and it can get a little twitchy at speed, so you have to pay fucking attention about your steering inputs. Don’t Flinch! is painted on the dash.
And then there’s Miss Chief…
“Wait, so you haven’t even sat in it yet?” says Todd. We’re sitting around the lounge talkin’ smack after having a little fun in Sleepy Jeepy. Al has a little pocket smartglass out and is using it to copy the clearer photos to see if he can track down some of the other descendants of the guys. Since only nicknames are used on any of this stuff, their true identities are lost to the sands of time. Except for maybe Crank, but I get the feeling that even Sweet Thing just knew him as Crank, but probably mostly Daddy. We think it might be neat to recreate the photo of Miss Chief at the T with everyone when I finally get her out.
“Nope, not yet. And don’t let Her hear you callin’ her an ‘it’. If you piss her off she’ll make you pay for it.”
“I’ll go sit in it right now!” says Todd.
“No you wont!” says Al, “She’s not like the others, not at all. I don’t know what it is with Miss Chief, but she’s not just a hot rod. She’s Miss Chief.”
“Wait a minute now, Al,” I say with a knowing smile between grown ups, “Maybe the boy should give it a try. He might know somethin’ we don’t.”
“Chief I…”
“Aw, she ain’t gonna eat him. She’ll probably just chew on him a little bit.”
“You guys are so full of shit!” says Todd with an arrogant smile as he walks over and pulls open Miss Chief’s driver’s door.
The door swings open wide with a sound that sounds a lot like ‘Fuck Off!’ Todd jumps back, shocked, looking at his hand. The door swings shut with a ‘Punk!’
“What the hell?” Todd gasps, ”That felt, hor… I think I’m gonna be sick!” and dives for an empty bucket on the floor and retches. When he recovers and stands back up he says with wide eyes, “That thi…,” and catches himself, “Sorry Miss Chief,” then back to us, “She’s alive!”
“Told ya,” I say with the smile of experience, “Maybe next time you’ll shut the fuck up and listen when grown folks are talkin’.”
“I can see why you won’t sit in her, that’s gotta be…”
“Oh, she’s not like that with me. We get along fine.”
“Really? Prove it.”
“Ok you little shit.” I stand up.
“Chief wait!” says Al.
“Look Al, don’t worry. I like Todd. He’s a good kid. Right now he’s acting like a snot nosed punk, but the real problem is… He’s right.”
They both look at me in astonishment.
“I mean, yeah, she’s powerful in both obvious and inexplicable ways. And she has the potential to be exceedingly dangerous. But that also means she has the potential to be exceedingly wonderful. That’s the law of balance. One’s capacity to do bad is precisely equal to one’s capacity to do good. And she loves me. She’s been waiting for me. She’ll do good by me.”
Taking her keys out of my pocket, I walk over and lean lightly on her cab, gently grasping her door handle.
“Ok baby, be gentle with me.”
Her door opens smoothly with ‘Ok’. I carefully move aside the aviation harness and slide down into the legit bomber seat behind her big, truck steering wheel. The door shuts with a warm ‘Yeah’. She feels like she was molded around me. The short gearshift is in just the right place for my hand to fall on it naturally. The knob on top looks odd, but when I grasp it, though metal, it feels like a lump of clay that I squeezed and molded to my hand. The placement of the pedals, the steering wheel, the line of sight to the gauges and out through the windows is the same way. It’s a perfect fit.
On the top of the dash directly in front of me is painted in bold lettering ‘REMEMBER THE BRAKES SUCK!’ In the dash just below is a huge tach that only goes up to 4,000 RPM. It has been relabeled as the Pucker Meter, with marks at 3,500 RPM (Pucker Factor 10!) and 4,000 RPM (Change Drawers!). I glance at the fuel gauge on the dash, there’s not enough in there to go anywhere, but there’s enough to fire her up for a minute or three. Without even realizing it I have inserted her key into the ignition, switched it on, and my thumb is pressing her starter button.
Her cranking engine seems to say ‘Oh.. it’s so.. good.. to have you.. inside me.. AGAIN!!!!’ She ROARS to life!
Outside, Todd and Al are pressing their hands hard over their ears and doubling over as if to take cover, like the ceiling is falling in. The whole room outside seems to be vibrating shrilly, but in here it is calm. Her vibration speaks to me through my bones.
YOU.. I.. WE ARE HALVES.. TOGETHER WE ARE WHOLE.. COMPLETE!! WE BECOME THE SOURCE!! LIFE IS OURS!! GO.. FAST.. NOW.. BE FREE!!!!
I realize that I am depressing the accelerator, her massive engine is screaming! Flames are jetting out of the zoomies, reaching for the ceiling! Though the transmission is in neutral, she seems to be surging forward, towards the open door. This bitch wants to GO! NOW! And so do I! As I look out the windshield everything outside seems to be shaking violently at unlikely angles. As if the entire building is being shaken from its foundations by some giant hand. And maybe it is. But inside Miss Chief, there is nothing but the calm, warm stillness of a lover’s embrace. A deep, all consuming feeling of being centered, focused, complete… in tune.
It takes everything I can muster to reach out and switch off her key. It seems a thousand miles away. And it’s so hard to turn. And I don’t want to. Ever… Ever.
But I do.
Her engine spins to a stop with a satisfied sigh. ‘Ooohhh. Mmmmm.’
I never want to leave. I want to stay here forever.
Todd finds his feet and is walking purposefully towards my door. He looks kinda pissed.
“WHAT the HE...”
One of Miss Chief’s cylinders backfires an orange flame that singes off his eyebrows.
He looks comically up at his smoldering eyebrows, holds up his hands, and steps very slowly backwards, “S... Sorry Miss Chief. I’ll be good now. I promise!”
Al, on the other hand, is positively beaming, “Holy Christ on a Crutch! That was AMAZING!”
I open the door to get out. She says ‘Thanks!’
The clubhouse is now an absolute shambles. Everything that was on top of anything has fallen off of it. I don’t care. That was fucking Rad!
In Door 42 people are ordering tables full of drinks, in case the end of the world is just pausing for a commercial break and will be back right after this word from our sponsor.
In her quarters off of the sixth floor promenade, Sweet Thing watches the smartglass screen on her wall grow a mesmerizing spiderweb of cracks as her coffee cup and the table it’s sitting on rattle off in two different directions at once, and just smiles, “Took him long enough,” and goes in search of her jacket, stopwatch, and starter flags.
Meanwhile, we all tidy up the clubhouse a bit, putting stuff back on top of other stuff and sweeping up broken stuff and throwing it in a trash barrel. During this I locate a heavy tow strap with big clevis’s on the ends under one of the workbenches. I know exactly why it’s here, too.
“Ok, lesson learned,” I say, “Next time we use this and pull her out into the hall with the mule before we start her.”
Al and Todd both agree that is a wise course of action.
“Now, what do you guys say we go get a drink?”