The Buick of Peril

The Valiant was replaced by a 1960 Buick LeSabre Mom bought for $500. 

Unlike the Plymouth, the key didn’t start it, the gas pedal did. 

That was a handy piece of information. 

When Norman and my mother went on a trip somewhere, I would surreptitiously take that mammoth Buick for a drive. The keys were always left in the cars when up on the Hill, there was no one around to steal them—

Aside from certain teenaged boy.

The brakes on the Buick were not trustworthy; I found that out the hard way. 

One afternoon, I drove up the driveway to the peak of Mount Barnabe. 

I felt confident so I continued over to the fire lookout and carefully turned around.

They may be back soon, better put the car where I found it.

The driveway was loose dirt and steep. Starting down it, the brake pedal felt soft. I pushed it nearly to the floor and the car was ignoring my request.

In fact, it was picking up speed. I dropped into low but that did little—

Oh fuck, oh fuckfuckfuck!

At the bottom of the driveway you had two options: To the right was the main parking lot. I would either be crashing into the stone wall that formed the barrier, or into the van parked there.

To the left, the driveway continued down to the house. There was no stone wall forming a barrier down there, just a drop off of twenty feet and then a steep, brown grass hillside.

Oh fuck—

I am so so fucked.

Halfway down the driveway, I remembered about pumping the brakes and frantically began doing so. 

I was only going twenty-five but still almost took out Norman’s shed.

I sailed into the main parking lot locking the brakes, gravel flying, my pants surprisingly dry.

I sat there for a few minutes frozen in terror. The engine was quietly rumbling, it seemed to be laughing at me.

I didn’t want to drive but I had to get the car back into position. 

I turned that massive, possibly malevolent Buick around and parked it how I had found it. 

I shut off the motor and climbed out on shaky legs.

The gravel was a mess, I had stirred it all up, had even left a couple of places where you could see bare earth.

Panicking a second time, I ran and got a rake. 

It took me nearly an hour to get it looking tidy. In fact, I saw Norman’s Studebaker coming up the road as I finished.

That was the last time I drove the Buick.

A couple of months later, the transmission went out and my mother had to pay my father $100 to tow it away.

This is my current writing project titled Music and Cars. It may be the next thing that comes out after See The Stars They're Shining Bright, who knows. See the hillside in the picture? That is what I would have crashed down if I hadn't been able to get the car to stop. One thing I didn't mention, I wasn't wearing a seat belt...not that a lap seat belt would have saved me.