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The events of 2009 started before 2009. To start at the beginning, for me, I’d need to begin with a line like, “It was a dark and stormy night in the Rocky Mountains.” But that’s too far in the past to be where this story starts. Suffice it to say that for me the year 2009 started in 1979 when I was born. My Dad and Mom lived in Downers Grove, Illinois when I was born. Dad owned his own truck and drove long haul jobs. Mom and I stayed home and I was given the job of getting an education.
By the time I was in high school I had been on short trips with Dad and knew a lot about taking care of his semi truck. When I asked Dad why he wanted me to learn how to be a trucker he always said, “Everyone needs a fall back position. No matter what else you do America will always need truckers.”
I aimed at a main career in advertising and went to Northwestern after high school. During breaks and summers I worked with my Dad and saw a lot of the U.S. and Canada. I met lots of his friends and felt like I was adopted into the family of truckers. After I graduated I got a job in advertising in Chicago and rented an apartment there.
I still talked with both Mom and Dad often, but I didn’t see them as often. I was doing well and in the spring of 98′ I bought a birthday present for my Dad I knew he’d love, a 1955 Corvette. I knew my Dad loved the early Corvette’s and the 55′ was the first year they put a V-8 in the Vette. I searched and searched for one and found the one I bought in a barn in Ohio. It had belonged to the farmer’s son who had been killed in a robbery the year before I found it. I got a good deal because he “just wanted it gone.”
I trailered it home and got it pretty well restored in time for Dad’s fiftieth birthday. It had all the bodywork restored, new leather interior, and mechanically had it blueprinted. I had found one of the rarest of the 55’s, one with the three-speed stick. The week before his birthday I had new brakes and new tires installed.
I talked to Mom often about the gift for Dad and how we would give it to him. Dad’s birthday was the first weekend of May. We decided I would drive Dad’s Vette up to Downer’s Grove and meet Mom and Dad for breakfast at their favorite Mexican restaurant, La Mex. Mom figured a way to get Dad seated where he wouldn’t see me arrive in the bright red Corvette. I would join them for breakfast. We would talk and then when we left he would check out the beautiful car. That would be when I’d give him the keys and they would go for a drive. I would drive Mom’s 95′ Blazer back to their home.
Breakfast was to be Saturday morning, so Friday evening I drove from my apartment in Chicago to Downers Grove and stayed the night at the home of a friend from school. We parked the Vette in his garage for the night. At eight in the morning I spoke to Mom on the phone and we agreed they would get to La Mex by nine and I’d get there ten minutes or so later.
I parked on a side street and watched Mom’s Blazer drive by on their way to La Mex. Waiting the ten minutes felt like half an hour. I started the 55′ and drove the two blocks to La Mex. I parked the Vette on the opposite side of Mom’s Blazer from the restaurant’s doors. Coming out, Dad wouldn’t even see the car until he was right next to it!
I joined them for breakfast and we talked, ate, laughed and I asked Mom what she gave him for his birthday. She said it was a surprise to be delivered later in the day. Dad fell right into our trap and said, “Delivered? If it’s going to be delivered we ought to get home so we’re there when it arrives.
I paid for breakfast and we walked out of La Mex together. We saw three guys standing on the other side of Mom’s Blazer. Dad said, “I wonder what they’re looking at?”
I called out, “Hey, What’re you looking at?”
One of the three looked at me and said, “Come look! This is fine, eh!”
We walked over and Dad saw the Vette. He acted like a man in church. In the next ten minutes he took three complete laps around the car. He told us all about the 55′. He didn’t touch it. He asked Mom if we could hang there until the owner finished breakfast. He wanted to meet the guy.
Mom said, “You can wait if you want to, but hanging out in a parking lot isn’t how I want to spend your birthday.”
I asked her, “What would you rather do?”
“I’d rather go for a drive, maybe over to the lake.” Mom said.
Dad said, “God! Wouldn’t it be great to take the Vette on that drive?” The three guys were still there and nodded in agreement.
I pulled the keys out of my pocket. His house keys and the keys to the Corvette on a Corvette fob. I handed them to him and said, “So why don’t you go?”
He looked at the keys in his hand; back up at me, at Mom, back to the keys and then back at me. Finally Mom and I said, “Happy Birthday!”
“You’re kidding! Really?” It took a couple minutes, but we did convince him. The three guys congratulated him and clapped as he and Mom got in and drove away. The guys talked with me for a few minutes and then I took Mom’s Blazer back home.
It Escort Esenyurt was getting dark when they got home. Dad parked the Vette in the garage and wiped it down before closing and locking the door. Mom came inside and said she couldn’t remember Dad being so happy.
He went out to the garage twice that evening. Early the next morning Mom sent us out for a drive. Dad drove for an hour and we stopped at a park he knew of where other classic cars and their owners would often congregate. When we were ready to go back home he tossed the keys to me.
Two days later Dad drove me back to Chicago and my 77′ Firebird “Bandit” special edition. He was thrilled with his present and so was Mom. They took lots of little trips in their 55′ Vette, showing off and having fun. They were happy and I was happy, too.
2000 arrived and I upgraded my ride to a 1992 LT-1 Vette. My Vette had lots more horses under the hood and a six speed tranny so it wasn’t just like Dad’s, but lots of fun and, oh my, was it fast! It was the same color as Dad’s 55′ and as often as possible we would take trips together, my LT-1 leading his 55′ part of the time and his 55′ in front the rest of the time. I stopped for more gas than he did. Mom switched back and forth riding with Dad and riding with me. Once or twice I brought a date on our trips, but seldom more than twice did the same woman go with us. That changed in July of 2005. I met Nicole.
For the rest of 2005 and at least half of 2006 I wasn’t sure which she loved more, the LT-1 or me. She liked Dad and Mom, too. The first half of 2006 she had me pretty well convinced she liked my stick better than the one in the Vette. The last half of 2006 I was becoming convinced she loved the LT-1 more than me.
When Spring arrived in 2007, we took our first road trip of the year, a three-day trip down to Atlanta. We had a great time, met some wonderful Vette lovers and ate great BBQ too. On the way back Nicole surprised me.
Mom had never driven either Vette. Until Nicole arrived Dad and I drove the Vettes. On our third or forth road trip with Nicole I let her drive for a while. Every trip after that she drove switching with me and once in a while with Dad.
On the Atlanta trip I had surrendered the wheel to her in Bowling Green and Mom had joined her in the LT-1. Dad and I took the 55′ and headed north following my LT-1. We laughed and talked about how good life was for both of us. We followed the ladies to St. Louis, Illinois and stopped for gas. Dad and Mom headed for the pit stop and Nicole and I gassed up the cars.
Nicole said, “I want this car.”
“You’ve got it.” I said.
“No. You’ve got it. I get the pleasure of driving it sometimes, but it’s your car. I want the title to have my name on it.”
“Why? You go on every road trip. You drive her. I pay for the gas, the insurance, and the maintenance costs. It doesn’t make sense to me.”
“I’ll be honest with you. The fun I have on these trips is mostly about the Vette. I like you. I like your Dad and I think your Mom is a great lady, but I love the car.” She topped off the gas, closed the fill hole and hung up the hose. She looked me in the eye and asked, “So, how much?”
I was so shocked I didn’t have an answer. I finally said, “I’ll need to think about it. I’ll let you know when we get home.” Dad and Mom came back. Dad took the 55′ with Mom and Nicole rode with me. Five mostly quiet hours later we were in Downers Grove and I helped Dad get his 55′ in the garage and wiped down. Dad and I wiped down the LT-1 while Nicole went in the house and helped Mom make dinner. I told Dad about Nicole’s conversation with me and her offer to buy the Vette.
“Son, I’m not giving advice. I’ve loved having her with us on these trips and I love your Vette almost as much as mine. I’m glad it isn’t my decision.”
He was done. Nothing more was said. We had a good dinner and we spent the night. I knew if I made a move on her Nicole would let me get lucky. I knew she didn’t want me and she’d made it pretty evident that all the sex we’d shared was so she could get close to the Vette. I decided I didn’t want that kind of action.
When we were close to Nicole’s apartment she asked, “Well? Got a price for me?”
“I do. Between St. Louis and Dad’s house I thought about saying she wasn’t for sale. I’ll be straight with you, I was upset and my feelings were hurt. I’d been living in the fantasy that you were my girl-friend and that we were lovers. I’d even had some long-term thoughts about us getting married and all that implies. In the five hours we drove after you offered to buy the car I was mostly in my head about you and me, not about you and the car.”
“I didn’t mean to hurt you.” She put her hand on my thigh.
“I understand that. In your mind, the offer wasn’t about me. Last night, when we went to bed I guessed that if I made a move on you I’d be successful. I also knew it would be different, for me. Every time we’ve ever had sex I had it mean something about us. I knew last Escort Avcılar night I’d been wrong. You are more connected to this car than you are to me. So… look in Kelly’s blue book for this car. Add five hundred to what it says and that’s the price, to you or whoever has the cash.”
“Deal! Thanks Ben! Maybe we can get together this week and do the transfer of title.”
“Can you get the paperwork? I have the title so that’s handled, but we need to meet at the bank to finalize it. I need the money in cash.” She agreed to everything and didn’t do a very good job of restraining her excitement. I dropped her at her apartment and for the first time since our first date she didn’t invite me in or kiss me good-bye. We were over.
I didn’t stop at the car wash on my way home. I got home and looked in Kelly’s for my car. I called Nicole and made sure she agreed with the price. Then I made a sign and put it in the window of the Vette, “For Sale”. I listed the price just as it was to Nicole and my phone number.
The next morning I drove the Vette to work and parked it in my regular spot. By nine in the morning I had three guys at my desk that wanted it. I told all three the same thing I told Nicole, “The first one standing in front of me with the cash gets the car.” I had given Nicole a head start.
To be a good guy I called and told her about the three guys. Nicole said I promised her the car. I reminded her we didn’t have a contract or an exclusive agreement. All we agreed on was a selling price and that I needed cash.
I went to lunch from twelve to one. At one o’clock I saw Nicole standing at my desk. I told my boss I needed a little time and he understood. Nicole and I walked across the street to the bank and did the transfer. I gave her the papers and the keys. She turned away from me and did everything but dance to the Vette. I didn’t get a kiss Good-bye or a hand shake. I stood and watched her drive the LT-1 out of the parking lot.
I surprised myself at how little it bothered me to watch the car leave. I bought a paper and figured I’d start looking for a new car. At three that afternoon one of the three men who wanted the car stopped at my desk and asked if it was gone. He told me about a classic pick-up his Dad had and that his Dad wanted to sell it. After work we drove to his Dad’s house and I looked over the 1969 Chevy El Camino. It was mechanically in great condition but it needed paint and tires for sure. I called my mechanic and told him the LT-1 was gone and that I needed him to check out the El Camino. The owner of the El Camino took it to my mechanic and he checked it out. Meanwhile I rented a car for a few days.
At lunch the next day I owned the El Camino. Two weeks later I had it in my garage. It had been tweaked and pampered in between. New leather interior and an incredible Midnight Blue paint job, mag wheels and great tires. A custom exhaust system had it run very quietly even though it had a 396-inch engine under the hood. In the bed I had the rails chromed and the slats between the rails replaced with oak. I smiled when I thought about the over eight thousand dollars I had left of the money Nicole gave me for the Vette.
Dad, Mom and I took four trips that summer. We made it to Key West, to Boston and to Denver before we drove to Edmonton, Alberta to a car show and gathering. We trailered the 55′ behind the El Camino and got lots of attention. More than once on that trip Dad or Mom mentioned how there wouldn’t have been room for Nicole in the El Camino.
In 2008 I met Neela. She started working in the office of the shop that cared for the El Camino. Nicole had been a lithe, petite blond who might have been five-four in heels. I’d seldom seen her in heels. Neela was dark. Her family said they were dark desert people with black hair, dark skin and strange food. Neela said she was mysterious looking. I’m six-one and in heels, so is Neela. Picture seeing a woman in a sheath dress fifty or sixty yards away, with great legs, a wonderful body and not knowing how tall she is. Watch her walk and catch yourself thinking she must be a professional dancer or a gymnast because she moves so fluidly. Only when she gets closer do you realize she is tall and how sensually her energy flows. That describes Neela. She wore dresses at the auto repair shop, every day. The office used to look like a man cave. Dave hired Neela and within two weeks the place was organized and clean. The calendar on the wall used to have a picture of a bare breasted woman holding brake shoes. One week after Neela was in the office the calendar had a picture of a 1957 Chevy Bel-Air with chrome wheels and wide tires.
By mid-Summer Neela was invited on a road trip with us. She accepted. When I arrived at her family home to pick her up for the trip I met her family. I met all her family. Her Dad and Mom, three younger sisters and four brothers. I’d never seen her in pants before that day, but she came out in jeans and a t-shirt. By the time we were on the road I was noticing my jeans were too tight in the crotch.
As we drove away Neela said, “Thank you for the compliment.”
“What compliment?” I asked.
She reached over and rested her hand on my erection. She smiled and said, “That’s a nice size compliment.” She left her hand on me and then she said, “Wait! Maybe that compliment is for my mother or one of my younger sisters?”
“No, it’s for you. You are a very sexy woman.”
“Did I dress inappropriately?”
“No. This is a road trip. Be comfortable. We take Dad’s Vette and my car on these trips because they’re fun and so we can show off the cars.”
We talked about the Vette and my El Camino all the way to Dad and Mom’s. I beeped the horn when we arrived and Mom came out the front door. She was dressed exactly like Neela. Well, the sizes were different. Mom never overstuffed a bra or t-shirt in her life. Neela was built to wear a t-shirt with the word “MOUNDS” on the front. They looked at each other and laughed. That summer we drove both cars. Neela never asked to drive. As the summer progressed Neela just got darker. At a car show on a fair grounds in Wisconsin she wore white shorts and a white halter-top. I worried we were going to be arrested. She got every bit as much attention as our vehicles.
She came to me when we were packing up to leave and asked, softly, “Are you ever going to use that thing on me?”
“My last attempt at having a sexual relationship didn’t work very well for me. I’ve been cautious about starting something too soon.”
Neela smiled and said, “While you were getting the El Camino ready this morning I shaved my cunny. I’ve had to use tissues all day to keep from soaking through these shorts.”
Mom had moved herself and Dad to a room farther from our room in the hotel than the one we started with. Until that night our sexual play had been tentative on my part. My experience with Nicole had me more than a little gun shy. That night Neela threw me on the bed, held me down by pushing down on my shoulders while she captured my cock inside her pussy and hooked her feet over the top of my thighs.
She asked, “Do I have your attention?”
She smiled and continued, “I talked with your Momma today. Now, you need to listen. Ok?”
“You have my full attention!”
“Good. I don’t want the Vette. I don’t want the El Camino. I don’t want your Dad or your Momma. I’m here because I want you. You are a good man. A little slow, a little less assertive than I hoped for, but still the best man I’ve met in my life that I’m not related to.”
“Here’s what I want! I want you to live as if there are three things in the world you can always count on: One, the sun will come up. Two, we will both get older and three, I will love you for the rest of my life.”
I smiled. I knew what she was saying, I just didn’t know if I believed the sun would come up.
Neela said, “These tits are for you to enjoy. Others may look, but touching is yours. This pussy is just for you, no one else, ever. Understand?”
I pushed up into her and asked, “This pussy?” She sat down hard burying me deep inside and said, “This pussy!”
“And which tits?” I asked. She leaned forward and smashed my face with first her right and then her left breast. “These tits!”
“And what is it you want me to do with all these things?” I asked.
“I want you to love me. I am Neela. I am your woman. No matter what. Sell the El Camino, I’ll still be here.”
I believed her. By the end of summer 2008 we had moved in together. Her SAAB 94x parked next to the El Camino in our garage. Dave gave me a discount on repairs and service on both cars.
Very near the end of 2008 Neela and I looked at our lives together and I asked, “Would you like to have a vacation to the Caribbean for Christmas or an engagement ring?”
“Is that your way of asking me to marry you?”
“Hell no! Asking you that scares the crap out of me. What if you said No? No, asking if you want the ring is safer. If you accept the ring and you wear it, you’ll get used to it and your family will get used to it and they will assume you said yes to marrying me. Then I can ask you to marry me and most of the pressure is off. If you say no then everyone will assume you got scared, not me. So, I’m asking if you want a Caribbean vacation or an engagement ring?”
“I want the ring and I want you to give it to me in front of my family!” So much for my hedging my bets and easing into a commitment.
On Christmas Eve we had dinner with her family. I cannot tell you what we ate. It was good. There was a ton of it, whatever it was. There was lots of music, lots of laughter and presents for everyone. Neela’s oldest brother gave me a box about five inches square and one inch thick. His father laughed when he gave it to me and he said, “You cannot open the box now. Only when we tell you to open it.” Neela blushed.
I put the box in my pocket. When most of the presents had been opened and many of the people were scattered around their house I figured the time had come. I sat next to Neela and pulled her present out of my pocket. One look would tell anyone it was a ring box. Her youngest sister saw the box and screamed something in a language I still don’t understand.
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