It was a warm, sunny Saturday morning in Coreyville. Greg Tenorly loved Texas weather—except for the humidity. It was a perfect day for a long drive in his big red convertible.
The large suitcase looked small in the huge trunk of his shiny 1965 Pontiac Bonneville. They could have made the trip in Cynthia’s new Toyota Avalon, but Greg preferred his glorious battleship for highway driving. The 43-year-old car was in primo condition. He closed the lid, taking care not to slam it. It had been the most beautiful thing in his life—until he met Cynthia.
“You and Bonnie ready to go?” Cynthia smiled at him from the front porch. It was a bit odd referring to a car by a woman’s name, but she had grown accustomed to it.
“As soon as I let her top down.”
Cynthia walked down the stairs, and over to the car. “Sometimes I get a little jealous.”
“Good,” said Greg. “Wouldn’t want you to take me for granted.” He winked at her.
“Y’all have a nice time,” said Beverly from the porch.
“We will, Mom,” said Cynthia.
“And Greg, good luck with your dad,” said Beverly.
“Thanks.”
They got into the car and drove away, waving goodbye.
“Can’t wait to get you alone in the hotel room,” said Greg.
“Is that the only reason we’re making this trip?” she said playfully.
“No, of course not. But it’s the main reason.”
“Well, I know it bugs you when we’re trying to make love, knowing Mom’s in the next room.”
“Yeah. And you always have to smash my face down into the pillow so she won’t hear me.”
Cynthia giggled.
“You think it’s funny, but one of these times you’re gonna suffocate me.”
She laughed.
“Go ahead and laugh, but I’m telling you… “
But it was no use. He tried his best, but could not sustain his serious tone. Her laugh was contagious.
“I think she heard us last night,” said Greg.
“Why? Did she look at you funny at the breakfast table?” She laughed harder.
“Well, yeah. I think she did.”
“No. It’s just that new high fiber cereal she trying. She nearly gags every time she puts the spoon in her mouth.”
“Have you ever tasted that stuff?”
“No.”
“It’s sawdust.”
“Oh, Greg.”
“No. It’s literally sawdust. I’m telling you.”
Cynthia laughed.
“Unscrupulous car dealers used to put sawdust in the gearbox of worn-out manual transmissions to make them shift smoothly.”
“Really? How did you know that?”
“Uncle Ed.”
“Well, maybe that’s exactly what Mom needs—maybe she’s not shifting smoothly.”
They both laughed out loud.
Finally, after they had caught their breath, Cynthia said, “So, what’s the plan? Are we going by your dad’s house today?”
“Maybe later. First, I want to go to Edsel Torkman’s Auto Shop,” he said with fanfare.
“Okay.” She paused. “Edsel’s just a nickname, right? That’s not his real name.”
“Actually, it is.”
“Edsel. Like the stupid looking car from the fifties?”
“Hey—don’t let Uncle Ed hear you say that. And, no, I wouldn’t say they’re stupid looking. At least Ed’s weren’t. He had two of them—1958 models. One was a hardtop, and the other one was a convertible. They were amazing automobiles.”
“That must be where you learned to love old cars—from your Uncle Ed.”
“Yeah, definitely.” He paused. “My grandfather’s name was Ford.”
“Oh, yeah—I remember you saying that. But I didn’t associate the name with cars. I mean, I’ve heard of other men with the first name Ford.”
“Yeah, but his last name was Torkman.”
“So?”
“You know—like torque. As in a torque wrench.”
“I’m sorry. I don’t know what that is, Sweetie.”
“It’s a tool. Mechanics use it when they’re tightening bolts on an engine—so they get just the right amount of pressure. It can cause big problems if the bolts are too loose or too tight.”
“I see,” she said, not fully understanding, but not wanting to hear further explanation.
“Grandpa was a mechanic too. But they hadn’t planned to name their son Edsel. It just so happened that he was born on E-Day.”
“E-Day? You mean D-Day?”
“No. September 4, 1957. They called it E-Day. It was the day the Edsel was unveiled at Ford dealerships across the country. So, my grandfather couldn’t resist. Grandma didn’t like the name at all.”
“I can understand why.”
“But she finally gave in.”
“Too bad the Edsel ended up being such a dud.”
“It wasn’t really a dud. It just had some problems. Plus—the country was going into a recession. It was a bad year for car sales across the board. But the Edsel did have some great new features, like self-adjusting brakes—which we still have on cars today,” he said proudly.
“Wow, you’re just full of all these car facts, Honey. I had no idea.”
“Go ahead—make fun. But I used to love hearing Uncle Ed talk about this stuff.”
“Well, I can’t wait to meet him.”
*
E. Z. Bender was waiting in the parking lot of Angie’s Country Fried Two-Step restaurant when Sondra drove up, and got out of her car. “This better not be a waste of time.”
“Well, you said you wanted to find some more regular gigs for us. And this place is pretty cool, and it does a lot of business.”
“And they only have a band for weekends, right?”
“That’s right.”
“Well, let’s give it a shot.”
They walked through the door and looked around. Sondra was impressed that most of the tables were occupied on a Saturday at 1:00—considering the lousy location. It was not anywhere near a mall or a shopping center. And the business across the street was an eyesore: Edsel Torkman’s Auto Shop. She remembered Edsel. Weird guy.
“There’s the owner,” said E. Z.
Angie Silverstern was dressed just like the other waitresses. She took an order and then hurried to the kitchen window to turn it in.
“Angie?”
She spun around. “Yes?”
“Hi. I’m Sondra, and this is E. Z. We need to talk to you.”
“Well, I’m sorry, but you’ll have to come back later. As you can see, we’re very busy right now.”
“It won’t take long,” said Sondra.
Angie sensed the woman’s determination. “Okay—but all I can give you is two minutes.”
“No problem,” said Sondra.
“Follow me.” Angie led them to her cramped little office. “What’s this about?”
“My band has been selected as the official band of Billy-Eye’s Arcade and Dance Barn.”
“Oh—somebody was telling me about that this morning. The whole thing with the Tang.”
“Yeah, that’s us.”
“Well, congratulations.”
“Thanks. And now we’re gonna do you a big favor. We’re gonna be your band twice a week, every week—for only $500 a night.”
“What? I can’t afford that.”
“Okay, I get it—you want to negotiate. Fair enough. $400.”
“No. I don’t need another band. I’ve got the Haystack Fiddlers on weekends, and that’s all I need.”
Sondra got up in her face. “Just tell me which nights you want us to play.”
“None.” She saw Sondra’s right arm beginning to tremble, and braced herself for a punch in the face.
“I don’t think you’re understanding me,” said Sondra.
“Oh, she’s understanding you alright.” Edsel was in the doorway, behind Sondra and E. Z. “Now guh-guh-get out of here!”
Same old weirdo, thought Sondra. She had forgotten about the stutter. “Whatever you say, Edseloser.” She sneered at him as she slowly turned, and then strode out.
“And I’d better not ever suh-see you in here aguh-aguh.” He took a breath. “Again.” His stuttering always kicked in at the worst times.
E. Z. had not moved. She just stood there staring—first at Edsel, then at Angie.
What’s her problem, thought Edsel. He started to yell at her, but caught himself. He was surprised by her kind eyes.
E. Z. suddenly turned rushed out of the room.
He turned to Angie. “You okay?”
“I’m fine, Edsel. Thanks.” She walked over to him, and gave him a tight hug.
“Be careful. You’re gonna get grease on your clothes.”
“I don’t care.”
Angie never hugged him like this. It felt so good. Maybe this was the perfect time to tell her his true feelings.
“Angie?” One of the waitresses called to her from just outside the doorway. “Sorry. But it’s Mr. Philbert again. He said his steak was overcooked, and he’s not going to pay for it.”
“I’m coming,” said Angie, still in his arms.
Every fiber of his body screamed for him to kiss her.
“I’ve got to get back,” she said.
*
“I’m sorry,” said E. Z.
“No problem,” said Sondra, opening her car door. “She’ll come around.”
“She doesn’t want us.”
“Oh, I’m sure I could convince her… if it weren’t for him.”
“So, we’ll just look for something else.”
“See you in a little while. Don’t be late. We’ve got our first full show tonight. And we’re gonna knock ‘em dead, right?”
“Right,” said E. Z., smiling.
Sondra backed her car out. As she pulled onto the road, she eyed Edsel’s shop with contempt. “The city of Orange will be much better off when you’re dead and buried, Old Man.”