Never the Same IC#12 Changes

Kirk sees an inkling of his future self and a sighting of her.

 

Cue: “Melancholy Man” https://youtu.be/z0SFTA24M-M

 

Kirk tried in his damnedest inner dialog to alter his self-defeating negative mindset, but he just couldn’t snap himself out of his downcast emotional outlook. After his loss of Dee, now over a year past, and living without another girl to care about, no decent money-making job nor even a non-paying job he might have half enjoyed, and no significant fun outlet, Kirk remained stuck in his own distressing cycle of despair. Kirk knew that it was time to move on, but he just didn’t know how. Kirk needed help�"a push�"to go forward.

Cue: “Step into the Sunshine” https://youtu.be/hvpJUBSGNAA  

            Providing some additional facts pertinent to Kirk’s pitiful condition, we briefly review Kirk’s father’s situation. As mentioned in an earlier episode, Kirk’s father worked the two farms, his parent’s (Kirk’s grandparents) single-handedly running a dairy operation and their homestead which was just a crop farm producing mostly hay, corn, and grains. It meant his father commuting and also the transfer of farm equipment between the two farms on a seasonal basis. After both of Kirk’s grandparents had died, his father continued working the dairy farm until he had an accident. One early morning, as dairy farmers rise before the sun, Kirk’s father fell down the silo shaft. Afterward, he was unsure if he had lost consciousness when he hit bottom besides taking a significant gouge out of his cheek. Shaken by the accident and most likely a bit nervous about the early mornings by himself after that, Kirk’s father gave up milking cows, and they decided to sell the grandparent’s farm though considering the massive dysfunction within the family it would take time�"and quarreling.

            Part of selling the farm, the family, some of the family at least, thought the farm would sell better if the house was connected to the city water instead of the old well water. This involved Kirk and his other brother-in-law, Joe digging a trench from the road to the house. Joe had proven a stable guy who held a long-term job with General Motors, so was rather mechanically skilled and knowledgeable as well. So, on an excessively hot two days they labored on the trench for the town to connect the water. A few days later, Kirk’s aunt said she didn’t want the house to ever have city water and told Kirk’s cousins to fill in the trench. Kirk’s father didn’t protest against his sister, so there it was. Kirk and Joe were mighty pissed off doing all that work for nothing, but such was the way the family operated.

            Anyway, the grandparents farm didn’t sell right away due to the familiar squabbling and a desire to get the maximum amount of money for it possible. Because Kirk’s father didn’t have the dairy income, he began to take menial jobs such as working on other farms and doing after hours lubrication on concrete trucks at a local firm. Kirk thought perhaps his father took the job to get back at him not having a “real” job and/or getting back at the aunt who filled in the trench who, according to Kirk’s father, was a millionaire and might feel sorry for Kirk’s father and give him a major handout. Kirk never thought the family hurt for money even though his father hounded him forever to pay him back. The one major thing that bothered Kirk was that his father took and worked those menial jobs, and Kirk sure did not ever want to emulate his father. Never. Whatever. 

            Meanwhile, Kirk’s only real outlet was to hang out and work at his brother-in-law’s garage where something automotive always happened. Mike kept his somewhat unimpressive stock car outside the garage during this period off season. From Kirk’s perspective, a stock car of any kind is something he wanted for himself, but he couldn’t say Mike’s stock car was exciting at all. Because it wasn’t. Kirk couldn’t admire the car other than the fact it went to the track and raced around with the pack. It was a battered 1936 Ford body that sat rather high on the frame looking a bit top heavy. Painted a medium blue, it had a blocked number thirteen on the sides done in white with black shadows. Probably a throwback from Mike’s earlier racing days, the car had an old Ford flathead V-8 engine. A note of stock car folklore followed that a race car should never be the number thirteen or the color green. Bad luck, you know?

Anyway, Mike had scoured the region for any performance parts for that type of engine and had acquired a sizable stockpile. In the particular racing class, a racer was limited to either a six-cylinder engine or a flathead V-8. It would be logical to think the V-8 would make more horsepower, though that wasn’t the case because first, primarily, the two types of engines were the same size in cubic-inch displacements. Second, additionally, it seemed much more difficult to extract horsepower from the V-8s despite the fact they were allowed more carburation and other modifications. At least Kirk had to admit the old V-8 sounded cool going round the track. Kind of like a deep-throated diesel truck/tractor. However, Mike’s car overheated a lot, steam boiling from the radiator during longer races, while never finishing in the top three. Nevertheless, Kirk helped Mike in the pits and learned a bit about racecar set ups, inspections, and how races ran, which no doubt whetted Kirk’s appetite for racing. At least by this point, a little older Kirk felt he didn’t have to sit in the car hauler when Mike stopped off at the racers’ bar after the races.  

So as covered in the episode before, Kirk helped Mike get a car ready for sale by working on the engine with a promise of a cut of the sale. When Mike put that car up for sale, it didn’t sell really quickly, so he ended up trading the refurbished car for a sweet little Mustang. I say sweet, though at first the Mustang didn’t look so great even though it was a V-8 with a stick shift. The pair jumped in cleaning up the body for a fresh paintjob, and it went pretty quickly because the body was in good shape, basically only needing paint. Mike always opted for the flash on his paint jobs and the Mustang being no exception, he decided on a flashy pumpkin orange. Kirk had his doubts though when finished it looked really good and eye-catching.  Mike added some shiny loud exhaust pipes that exited straight out the back, and he mounted some nice spoked wheels on it. All done up nicely now, the Mustang appeared quite sweet and sounded good, too!

One day, Mike and Kirk had the stock car in the garage welding up some new nerf bars on to replace the scraped up and bent ones. Mike explained how correct placement of the bars kept other cars’ wheels from connecting with his wheels. If solidly connecting wheels on two cars at speed, one wheel could ride up over the other and most likely flip the car causing a rollover�"definitely not a good thing. Mike had a “thing” about belonging to the “Upside Down Club” which membership meant that if you didn’t flip over in your racecar, you weren’t a real racer. Kirk didn’t know about being flipped over in a racecar, and if he ever raced, he would try his utmost to avoid that situation, so he paid close attention to the lesson about nerf bars. Interesting note here, Mike carried a compact tape recorder in the racecar and narrated the “blow by blow” action during races. Exciting stuff, for sure.

Anyway, during a day of fabrication and the welding of nerf bars, the guys got hungry. Having an obvious ulterior motive, Kirk volunteered to go and buy some burgers at the drive-in several miles away. After the menu had been decided, Kirk asked if he could take the sweet little Mustang. Mike probably knew the car request would be part of the deal when Kirk offered. So, Kirk took the sweet orange Mustang leisurely down the road from Mike’s garage, though he wasn’t fooling anyone about taking a leisurely drive. Even taking it easy with the car, Kirk could sense the power under the hood, especially going through the gears. He realized that the Mustang had at least five times the horsepower of his lowly pink Bug which he left behind sitting there all lonely in the driveway.

When well beyond earshot, every stop sign encountered after that was an open invitation to put the Mustang through its paces, so to speak. It meant every start was like a run down a dragstrip. Kirk hadn’t been behind the wheel of a fast car for how long? A fast car? Probably never. Kirk became instantly addicted to the sound, the power, the acceleration. He quickly found that he had a real knack of speed shifting through the manual gears and being in control of that car made him feel really good. And that good feeling was what he really needed to try and out run and leave his dark days far behind. As he drove soaking in the positive thoughts, he went past Babe’s house, but without hearing a word about her in years, Kirk figured she and that older guy were already married with a little one on the way.

That terrible eternal fate could have been me! He thought before snorting out a laugh through his nose.   

With that feeling of being in control of the hot car, in control of his life for a change, Kirk felt like Steve McQueen in the movie “Bullitt” driving a hot Mustang in an on-road duel with the bad guys. He could be a stunt driver; Kirk knew he could pull it off with ease. Finally at his destination, he drove in the drive-in restaurant parking lot which was moderately busy. He pulled up and backed into an open slot. He blipped the throttle a couple times, maybe to draw attention which it did, or maybe just because it sounded cool, which it did. He got out and strode to the open order window. He had to wait for one customer.

Suddenly out in the open, in the public, and feeling a bit self-conscious, he realized that his clothes were a bit greasy and dirty. And as he stood there, Kirk sensed he was being scrutinized, stared at or talked about. He had experienced that feeling before which had in fact proven reliable. Instead of dwelling on it, he concentrated on what he needed to order. Soon, the other customer finished and slid over to the pick-up window. Kirk gave his order of three cheeseburgers, two fries, a Dr. Pepper, and a Coke with no ice for himself.

After paying, he slid over to the pickup window, but the feeling of being watched niggled at him. As he waited, he could feel the gaze bore into him off to his right. Out of his peripheral vision, which had proven quite sharp, he scanned without appearing to scan. His stomach flipped with who he thought he detected.

Couldn’t be�"what would be the chances?  

His completed order slid out the window. He took it carefully. Pivoting on the balls of his work boots, he swiveled to the right instead of the left, the direction he needed to go back to the car. Kirk slowly turned the 270 degrees with his eyes scanning but not pausing on the targeted person. He then stepped out toward the Mustang.

Damn! It was her! What are the damn chances? He repeated to himself. Just when I felt good about myself, forgetting about her for a while, she had to appear in my sphere of existence with another boy, of course. This occurred just to torment me, to torture me with the memory of her.

Kirk opened the door, sat down, and set the bag of food on the Mustang’s seat and the carrier of drinks on the floor. Knowing the awkward situation, he lingered a minute on the floor with his eyes before looking up. Problem was, the way he had parked, he faced dead ahead at her. Kirk forced himself to not see her, to not even acknowledge her existence. He fired off the Mustang. A burning arose in his chest, and his heart rate went up. He slowly drove out the parking lot to clear his head, to think, the Mustang’s V-8 throaty throbbing the way they do.

Carefully, remembering traffic safety, he sat there for a car that approached that was so far away he could have pulled out on to the highway and backed into the lot three times without risking a crash. His heart thumped hard. After the car went by, he ensured that the Mustang was in first and checked for traffic again.

Bullitt! By ear, Kirk revved the engine up to near the redline. The engine came to life and screamed like a banshee from hell. He swiftly released “popped” the clutch. With the engine screaming and tires squalling and burning, the Mustang’s front end lifted with the sudden acceleration. The Mustang shot out onto the street. He cranked the steering wheel and the car went completely sideways. He counter-steered to keep from going around and out of control. He kept his foot to the floor as the car found traction, picked up speed, and headed straight down the road. He slammed second gear breaking the tires loose again as the front dropped and bobbed with the gear change. Hitting 60 miles per hour in second gear, he slammed third but let off the gas pedal. Calmly, he slipped it into fourth gear to cruise.

Kirk noticed then that the drinks had fallen over, but hadn’t spilled so keeping an eye on the road he righted them and pulled the bag of food out from between the seat and the door. His heart calmed. He smiled a little smile and asked himself after seeing her�"

Am I sad, mad, or glad?  Glad for being able to handle the car the way I did.  Maybe all the field cars, donuts spun in parking lots gave me the experience, the ability to drive. I am a wheelman.  I need horsepower and need to DRIVE! Was it childish to show off like that? Yes, but so what! Am I mad and sad that I saw her again, just to remind me what I had lost? Yes!

Cue: “Against all Odds”   https://youtu.be/CkGg1bzfSys