I loved spending my summers down in Drumheller with Uncle Jeff and Aunt Sadie. They were so kind and accommodating, despite the fact that, as a teenager, I was likely more of a burden than a help to them. I had written to them one Spring, and they had suggested I come down when school was done. I really didn’t know what to expect. Our first day was the most amazing because Uncle Jeff told me right away that his old 1964 Rambler was fixable. If I had the desire and will to fix it, I could have it.
I had one vehicle before. It was a big blue Ford Truck missing one headlight that I had paid around $250 for. The brake lines had air in them that sometimes made the brake pedal sink to the floor. It was also a manual transmission. I had no clue how to drive it properly. Most intersections, I would start out in the loud, embarrassing ‘thump thump thump’ of having left the truck in too high a gear, or worse, by stalling and making me have to start the engine on a green light and then take off, spinning my tires just to make sure I didn’t stall again. In no time that truck went from junky wreck to disaster on wheels. Not mentioning most of its drawbacks, I sold it to one of my managers at work who needed a truck just to haul a trailer to his lake lot. Last I heard from him he was using the truck as target practice.
My uncle’s old Rambler, on the other hand, looked like such a neat little car. Four doors, six cylinders, not the gas-guzzling big block V-8 the truck had. And it only had 160,000 km on it. That was nothing for a car that age. Or so I hoped. When I first popped the hood, I looked inside, and it all seemed pretty simple. Distributor, spark plug wires, air cleaner, engine, radiator. I felt stupid standing there with my uncle next to me, not knowing what to look at or do, so I did the only thing I really knew how to do: I checked the oil. After I pulled the dipstick out, I touched oil to my finger and slid it around my thumb. I had no idea what that meant, but I had seen my dad do it once.
Over the next weeks, I lived an idyllic life. My Aunt would go out to the garden before every meal to dig fresh potatoes. “Potatoes is the only vegetable you don’t get tired of,” my uncle would often say.
The meat and gravies, salad dressings and desserts my aunt made were always the greatest to go with those garden-fresh spuds. Most of our days would be spent working on the Rambler or even just driving around to see the sights because, in a way, I was a tourist.
Uncle Jeff taught me right from the ground up what made cars run. The engine uses compression to create small, powerful explosions that turn the crankshaft, which is transferred to the rear wheels by the transmission, the drive shaft and the differential. Over and over he would pound phrases like this into me, along with tons of little tips and advice that I just ate up.
There was always time for leisure in Drumheller, though. Most of the evening weekdays we would sit in the backyard, enjoy the setting sun and the cool, breezy air and my uncle would use the slingshot he made with his very own 72 year-old hands to try and hit birds, other rocks, and really anything he felt would be amusing. I loved him for being a strong influence all my life and for never losing the ability to play and have fun. And what he loved most were cars, which meant that right now we were closer than we would ever be to each other.
Saturday nights I would borrow my Uncle’s station wagon and go to the movies. There was this really cute girl around my age selling tickets. One night I went up to her and asked, “Can I get one youth ticket for ‘Sophmore Rules’?”
She smiled and replied, “’Sophmore Rules’ is an adult movie.”
I just smiled, put another dollar on the counter and asked for one adult. By some miracle she let me in.
The next week I went to the movies again and waited at the back of the line so I could say a few words to her. “Hey are you a local?” I asked.
“No, I’m from Calgary.”
“I thought so. Girls here are never as pretty as you.”
We talked for a while about the movies the theatre had played, what grade twelve was going to be like, and I left feeling good. Later in that week I ran into her hanging out in downtown Drumheller and we walked around together, talked a bit. She was funny and smart, and I liked everything about her, except that she was going back home in a week.
“Would you like to go for supper with me this Thursday?” I couldn’t believe I was actually asking a girl on a date. I had never done it before, but with Cindy it seemed easy, natural. “It might be the last time we see each other.”
Cindy looked into my eyes and in a moment I knew, as her eyes and face both smiled a mischievous grin, I knew this was going to be my chance. Now all I had to do was get my Uncle’s car.
“Uncle Jeff,” I pleaded. “I have a date Thursday. Can I borrow your car? It’s really important. I won’t ever see this girl again after this.”
“Thursday?” Uncle Jeff said as he rubbed his grizzled chin. “I think by Thursday you can take the Rambler out. But I don’t want to hear you’re going to wild parties or chasing girls.”
“If your father had said that to you 50 years ago we wouldn’t have two wonderful children and 48 years of marriage.” Aunt Sadie said, slapping his arm.
“All right, all right. I want you home by eleven though.”
Eleven! I was going to get her at six. Five whole hours of joy, of being in the presence of a truly beautiful person!
“Now, Johnny, just let me clean the car out for you,” Aunt Sadie said. “Girls don’t like boys who are untidy. Don’t forget to look at the registration in the glove compartment either. It’s close to expiring.”
“And watch what you do with the clutch!” Uncle Jeff said.
“Just check all the papers, Johnny. You never know when you might be pulled over.”
Early that evening I took a quick bath, brushed my hair, took some of my Uncle Jeff’s aftershave and dabbed it on my chest for good measure. I grabbed the keys off the table, kissed my aunt and headed out the door. I picked up Cindy and after our simple meal in town. We talked for what seemed like hours as we cruised along in my sweet little Rambler. We loved all the same music, the same TV shows. It was kind of magical, cruising through the badlands of the Drumheller valley as the sun was coming down. There really is no feeling like being young and in love. I showed her where my mom went to a one-room schoolhouse and the miner’s shack she lived in with her sister and my grandma. I even showed her where my mom had told me the whorehouse used to be. We almost couldn’t imagine an older generation needing sex so much they had to hide it, almost as if our generation had invented it.
At the end of our drive, we stopped and slowly inched closer to one another. Our first kiss was indescribable. Right after, I envisioned making trips to Calgary on a regular basis just to see Cindy more. We both knew in reality that wasn’t likely to happen. Despite knowing this, things got more passionate. Just then, a light flashed and someone knocked on my window, making me jump out of my skin. Cop! Son of a bitch!
“Hi there. How are things going?”
“What’s wrong officer?”
“Just a standard check. Can I see your registration and insurance?”
I opened the glove box I had forgotten to check, and two condoms fell out. There was only one person who could have put them there.
“Do you have your Uncle’s permission to take his car?” The officer asked.
“Actually, my Uncle gave me this car.”
“And what a sweet ride it is too,” the cop said. “You two have a good time tonight and be careful. And rest assured your little secret is safe with me.”
I breathed a sigh of relief, but then realized I could be in a lot of trouble still. But Cindy was just smiling. “I suppose you are going to say those belong to your Uncle.”
“No, but I swear, I didn’t put them in there.”
“It’s okay.” Cindy said. “It finally feels right to me.”
“You mean you haven’t ever…”
“No…”
“Well, I haven’t ever…”
“I know.”
“And that night was the end of my virginity and the beginning of our 18 years together.” I said to my 16-year-old son. “It meant something, it meant something special, and afterwards we had a relationship that we could build something on and it stood the test of time.”
My son looked down at the floor after I said this, and I could tell even his ears were red from embarrassment. I never really gave him talks like this.
“But the way things are changing these days my opinion is that if you can’t be good, at least be careful.” I set the keys to my Rambler down on the table, then pulled two condoms I had stashed in my pocket and tossed them on his lap.
“Don’t forget your license and registration.”
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