“Can we eat our lunch now, Frank? I have to do my medications.”
“Sure. What’s the prognostication on your prostate, man?”
“We’re into Chemo now. The big C is making faster progress than we can keep up with.”
“It’s pretty in here, you have to admit. Leaves are just beginning to turn. Maples are red. Oaks are brown. Fall works magic in these woods.”
“Well ,that’s so. But beauty in dying leaves is an uncomfortable metaphor I’d rather not think about it.”
“All right. Then let’s think about this old car graveyard. Isn’t it better viewed as a saving salvage zone? What would you do if the old guy sold us that 55 Chev?”
“Oh, boy. Where would we build her?”
“My garage. If I clean up, there’s room for two cars. We could work on this one with enough room for your wheel chair if we needed it. So how would you build her?”
“I’d lower her. Center-Line wheels. Black sidewall tires. Delete radio, glove box, sun visor. Keep the 3-speed transmission but cut a hole in the floor for a stick shift.”
“How about power?”
“I’d stay with Chevy. I like the 327 V8. They’re hard to find anymore. But then we’re dreaming aren’t we?”
“What about up front?”
“The whole shooting mess is available in fiber-glass. Tilt-front-end even.”
“Colour?”
“Candy pink. Dual Hush Thrush fiber-glass mufflers with cut outs. Just enough to annoy the neighbours.”
“Sounds good to me. But we’d better start back. It’s quite a hike from here.”
No one was home at the house. Frank and Bill planned to come back next year on Frank’s vacation but it never happened. Bill passed away at New Year’s.
