Never the Same #87 Kirk’s Penultimate Episode

Feeling really low, Kirk aims high on the cusp of forging a new Kirk.

Cue: “Learning to Fly” https://youtu.be/nVhNCTH8pDs?si=cWkN251PZ7SO8euU

 

            To briefly recap, Kirk went to Chuck’s house to verify what he already knew from the newspaper article. For Kirk, the introverted individual, Chuck remained Kirk’s only real contact with the goings-on within the local stock car scene. As expected, Chuck didn’t have any reassuringly favorable news for Kirk.

            “Yeah Kirk, the article in the newspaper only confirmed what we had already known or, at least suspected, from the rumors.” The two racers sat down on red padded stools at an immaculate work bench, that, to Kirk’s perception had never held a greasy automotive part on its surface. “Even before last season ended there were rumblings about NASCAR’s concern about losing money in this down economy.”

            Kirk shook his head. “I never got wind of that buzz. Yeah, of course, I always kept my head down, ignoring any scuttlebutt that floated out there.”

            Chuck quietly shook his head for a couple moments. “Sure, in most circumstances that’s the best policy to distance yourself from idle gossip that may or may not come to pass. And in this case, most of the guys thought NASCAR was just posturing themselves to raise prices on tickets and entry fees on us racers in the next season.”

            “I can understand that thinking and could also see that possibly happening and how people would think long those lines while maintaining a positive outlook,” Kirk said. He swallowed. “While attempting to not,” he paused. “To imagine what NASCAR actually decided according to the article.”

            Chuck’s wife opened the door and stepped into the garage with a tray. She paused. “Kirk are you a coffee drinker?”

            “Yes, probably to a fault�"usually drinking too much.” He noticed the steaming cups on the tray.

            She resumed her approach. “I thought to bring you two some coffee and cookies at this�"unhappy juncture.”

            “Thanks, hon,” Chuck said, as she set the tray on the counter.

            “Really sad to hear the bad news for you two. I know both of you, and all the other racers who are heavily invested in racing.”

            “You can say that again,” Kirk said, taking a cup of coffee following her gesture of insistence.  “Thanks, for the hot coffee, I could use a warming up inside.” He hoisted the cup, put it to his lips and took a sip of the scalding hot coffee. He squeezed his lips together.

            After she departed, Chuck asked Kirk if he had found another job knowing that the Georgia Pacific plant had shut down a while back. Kirk told him no and that he was collecting unemployment while working on his car. Unable to restrain himself, he snatched a cookie and took a bite.

            “So. What are your plans with the new car considering the recent news?”

            Kirk studied the floor and felt his eyes getting watery while grasping the half of the cookie resting on his knee. He thought the cookie might crumble or he’d drop it as his brain tried to rationalize out a possible coherent answer to the question.

            “Not sure,” he said succinctly. He made an awkward elbow shrug. “I’d like to keep working on it.” He paused. “I’m learning a lot.” Looking down lying, trying to justify that actually occurring. “I’m applying what I’m learning in welding class.” Kirk wished he hadn’t said any of that as soon it came out of his mouth.

            “You’re taking a welding class?” Chuck said, taking pause himself.

            “Yeah, I thought I’d pick up a few technical skills, but it seems the class is mostly basic stuff.” He shrugged. “Stuff I already know, but I guess it wouldn’t hurt to brush up on some basic skills and maybe learn something I don’t know.”

            “Sounds good. And I suppose it could open employment doors for you as well.”

            “Kinda’ of what I thought as well going in.”

            They sat there a few moments sipping coffee and munching cookies. Kirk gazed around Chuck’s immaculate garage and settling his gaze on Chuck’s immaculate race car. He garnered an optimistic thought.

            “So Chuck. You’ve been racing for a while. Before NASCAR came about?”

            “Yep, back in the bad old days before NASCAR is when I got started. They had kind of rinky-dink operations on the dirt tracks back then with so-so rules and so-so adhering to those rules. Some private person funded it, I forget who, and the name of the game in my perspective was that they liked seeing lots of crashes. The more crashes the better they figured was what brought in the crowds.” Chuck took a sip. “Maybe it did back then, I don’t know.” He thumbed towards his car. “I didn’t have a nice car like that one, no one did back then.”  

            “The reason I asked, I wondered if there’s a chance someone or maybe a business might take over the sanctioning of the tracks?”

            Chuck shrugged. “Your guess is as good as mine. I haven’t heard any speculations about someone interested in doing that. So it’s up in the air for sure. Who knows? Maybe someone could step up and get things going as late as early summer. You know, the facilities are good, the track is great. Who knows?”

            “Sure, I understand the possibilities, but…I don’t know about sinking time and money into a new car when no one knows or no one is stepping up to say that races will run now.”

            “Right. It sort of sucks your motivation and enthusiasm from the car,” Chuck looked away and took a sip. “I don’t know what to tell you, Kirk.”

            They sat there a while silently drinking coffee and nibbling cookies. Kirk suddenly acted as if he recalled something. He stood up. “Oh, thank Margie for the coffee and cookies. Nice to sit around and chat even if the subject matter is less than encouraging.”

            “Agreed. If I hear anything good or bad, I’m sure to let you know.”

            “Thanks. I’d appreciate that.”

            They shook hands. “Hey, I hope your welding class pans out for you. Maybe it’ll get you a job, huh?”

            “Yeah, maybe,” Kirk said, but he wasn’t feeling it at all.

            “Don’t be a stranger, stay in touch,” Chuck said, as Kirk walked through the door.

            He turned back. “Will do, Chuck. Take care.”

            So the two racers parted ways. Kirk went to his pink van which was stone cold again. One thing he could tell himself as he started it, the van had a hell of heater to warm up the van’s big empty interior expanse. He took his time driving in the dark of night taking the long way home to just think things out. Being a believer in fate or Karma or Kismet that might have thrown opportune circumstances his way to guide him on his way in quite a few instances during his life, but what could he believe in now? What possibly does this bad news do for his chances and his future? He dreamed of being a stock car driver most of his life and then lately, a top tier, big time driver, but that dream seemed to have withered away, been smashed to bits just like that. His mind remained a mush of conflicting negative thoughts; he couldn’t come up with anything positive about the news that could be good for his future. He drove on into the dark with just his immediate path lit.

            Thoughts of being a lifetime farmer with/for his father boiled up. It soured his stomach. Marrying Sarah Elizabeth like she indicated a while back? Would she want to marry a FARMER? Maybe she would, being a country girl with horses and all. He admitted that he couldn’t marry anyone without a real job and farming on the home farm wasn’t what he would call a real job. More like an eternal debt cycle. The only girl he would’ve married up to this point would’ve been Dee. He wished so, so hard for that, even though he sensed their breakup was imminent. Now she’s gone forever out of his life and their hometown somewhere out there in the US Navy. That decision of hers was something he’d never would have thought of occurring in HER future, but he had to smile lit by the van’s dash lights and wonder if she was awfully cute in her sailor’s uniform.

***

            Heading to bed, Kirk wasn’t overly tired and rather troubled over his new totally disheartening circumstance. Glancing about in the bedroom’s low light, he espied his garaged shelf of plastic model iconic hot rods, dragsters, the replica of his stock car assembled by Sarah Elizabeth, and the one aircraft he though embodied maximum speed in the air, the experimental aircraft designated as the X-15. Not being a big reader, he picked up one of his favorite biography books on Chuck Yeager sitting on the sparse shelf along with a few James Bond novels.

            In his formative teen days, he read a lot of biographies on heroes of World War 2 like Eisenhower, Patton, and Kennedy, but he gravitated to aviation and space icons like John Glenn and Neil Armstrong, who he thought only got lucky to be the first man to step on the moon. He thought it could’ve been any other astronaut placed in the same situation which meant to Kirk that Armstrong’s fame wasn’t due to any singular heroic action on his part. Which leads us back around to Kirk’s fascination with Chuck Yeager, a true aviation hero that put his life on the line many times.

            All about speed, Kirk gravitated to Yeager's story upon hearing about the pilot being the first man to break the sound barrier, a brave accomplishment when some scientists believed an aircraft would not withstand the transit beyond the speed of sound.  It took an act of bravery, to be sure.

***

            For the week’s welding class, they began studying arc welding. Kirk half-listened in case there was maybe something covered he didn’t already know. Not much new covered with the actual skill of welding, so Kirk just followed along with the professor’s flow. In the practical exercises, he pretty much welded as he always had much to the exasperation of the professor who tried to pass some helpful hints to haphazardly welder Kirk whose mind drifted elsewhere.

            After the class, Kirk drove Rich to his house before going home as he had for the classes so far. For some inexplicable reason only known to Kirk at that particular moment, Kirk said, “I’m dropping the class, so I won’t be picking you up next week.”

            Rich reacted with surprise. “Really, Kirk? What, why? Are you not getting anything out of the class? I thought it was a pretty good class.”

            In the dark of the van, Kirk shrugged. “I don’t know, maybe. I’m just not going to go to the rest of the classes.”

            “Oh. Okay. Well, it was good to see you all these years after high school.”

            “Yeah, likewise. Take care, Rich.”

            “You too, Kirk. Maybe see you around.”

            “Yeah. Maybe.” Kirk said, just as Rich shut the van’s door.

 

            A few days before Christmas, the despair hit Kirk really hard. Christmas had always been an unhappy time for him, perhaps it stemmed from the time when he, as a child, had to be removed by his mother from the grandparents’ Christmas festivities due to his being greedy and impolite. He would never forget that. Maybe another time affected him when he laid under a tree listening to “You Can’t Always Get What You Want” thinking it was all about him or maybe generally Christmas never turned out as cheery and fun as he anticipated.

            Wandering outdoors, he opened up his garage within the barn and gazed at his fleet. His Firebird sat shoehorned between the entry door and the stock car frame. His stomach sank a bit more remembering that his once ferocious, unbeatable ‘bird now had a weakness in that spun engine bearing. Stepping to the back of the garage, he looked over his stock car that now, almost assuredly, perhaps, was rendered useless in one newspaper article. The garage felt extremely cold, colder than ever, which it was, filthy dirty, which it was, and dark, so dark and dismal. He gazed over the cars and all he could see was negative, not done good enough, not cleaned up, uninspiring. No thrill left, no possible positive outcomes. Kirk hit rock-bottom. He hit the road in his trusty pink van.

            Heading into the village, he cruised down the main street hill where he used to roar with his old Ford trying to get everyone’s attention. Now, these years later, no one would recall that. From there he went to the park taking notice of the one, singular shelter, even though in snow, where he recalled in perfect detail when he demanded his ring back from unfaithful Dee. Despite his hard feelings towards her, he drove past Dee’s home where they shared happy, romantic times, but now, she was gone far away in the US Navy. He circled back toward Babe’s home where the twosome shared platonic good times that never developed into anything more even though later on, he had often wished...On the way, he drove the straight-shot road where he drag raced Dee’s new boyfriend who claimed to have the fastest car in town. Kirk with his hyper-Firebird showed him. He drove past Babe’s house, but she had already been married for some time, living somewhere else, starting a family with the guy Kirk technically lost her to. 

            He thought about stopping by Sarah Elizabeth’s home. Was she at school or at home on holiday? He hadn’t talked or visited her for days and knew she’d snap him out of his funk and get him free of his miserable despondency. He didn’t want to be free of the dead feeling he carried in his chest dismissing the thought of seeing her to continue on his half-considered mission venturing right on past the turn off to Sarah’s house.

            Kirk had difficulty focusing on the road. Good thing he knew all the roads by heart. He proceeded in no hurry to go nowhere or somewhere, or would he be embarking on the longest trip of his life? Eventually finding himself on the so-called main drag across the county, he passed along the strip where he got that ticket for a “Failing to Yield” infraction of all things in the pink VW Bug of all vehicles only because it was so miserably under powered.

***

            Arriving at the strip mall he had driven past many times but never had a reason to stop before, Kirk nervously walked into the austere office wondering if he knew what the hell he was doing and questioning himself if he had the guts to follow through with his reason to be there or maybe just obeying a subconscious autopilot.

            A perfectly blue-suited man sat behind a steel gray desk.  From a console table next to the plate glass entry, Kirk picked up a colorful brochure. He flipped it open and began to read while closely scanning the photos. Wondering if it was for him?

            “Can I help you son?” Said the man who suddenly appeared next to his shoulder.

            Kirk started, then thought he was not young enough nor the man old enough to call him son. He cleared the thought and stammered.

            “I guess…I was just considering…”

            “Are you considering a specific Air Force Specialty? You can reserve one when you sign up, you know.”

             Another shock coursed through Kirk’s brain and down his spine as he tried to comprehend the situation he had driven to specifically, walked through the door purposely, and straight into knowingly. 

            Kirk would not just be Never the Same; he’d become a completely different Kirk.