Sydney/Taree Australia
Part 28

As we arrived at the front gate, I spotted an old car parked a ways down the road. It had a ‘for sale’ sign on the windshield. “Hey, B! Check that out! It’s a cool Holden like Col’s, only it’s a sedan. And it’s for sale! Wanna check it out?”

“What for? I’m not in the market for a car.”

“Hey, it’s got your name written all over it, B.”

“You’re absolutely right – B for bomb.”

“Doesn’t look like a bomb from here. Looks totally cool! C’mon, B! Let’s check it out, man. Please?”

I had a feeling about this Holden… feelings of excitement and anticipation that grew in my stomach like a swarm of butterflies as we approached it. I just knew that the old girl and B were made for each other. And the closer we got, the better she looked… a tan body with a white roof. She was parked on the wide pavement outside an old auto workshop that seemed like it had been around forever.

But B was gonna take some convincing. “It’s got rust,” he complained as he inspected part of the bodywork.

“Jeez, B! It’s only a few iddy biddy little bubbles. It’s hardly any rust at all!”

But he ignored me. “And there’s a ding in the rear fender.” Then the old dude ran a skeptical finger over a patch of crazed paint on the trunk lid.

But I was still convinced that this old Holden was destined to be at home in B’s drive, so I busied myself shaking the crap outa all four wheels, testing for looseness and wear. Nope. Tight as a virgin ass. I also noticed that the tread on the tires was worn evenly, which meant the steering and suspension was OK. Coolio! Then I lifted the hood. Whoa! “Hey B! Take a look at this! It’s fucking awesome!”

B ran his eyes over everything in the engine bay but didn’t say a word for a while. I figured he was totally blown away. “This is amazing,” he mumbled eventually. “Clean as a whistle. Looks like everything’s been recently reconditioned. Even the wiring looks new.”

“See!” I said as I checked the oil on the dip stick for cleanliness. “I told you your name was written all over this old bus. I wonder how much they want for it?”

“Probably way too much. I can’t afford this damn car, Daniel. I’ve already shelled out a fortune just to get us all and our belongings up here.”

“G’day.” We turned to see a tall, slim, dark-haired dude in his 40s, dressed in blue, grease-stained overalls, approaching us from the direction of the workshop. “Wanna take it for a run?” he smiled, dangling a set of tempting silver keys that caught flashes of sunlight as if the dude was trying to hypnotize us.

Having seen all the goodies under the hood had certainly impressed B. OK, so the body was a bit crappy here and there, but mechanically the car was sound. Or so it seemed. There was one way to find out for sure.

“Thanks,” B smiled as he accepted the keys from the tall dude. “We won’t be long.”

Within a second of turning the ignition key, the motor sprang smoothly into life. Nice and quiet. No weird noises. Then the drive around a few local blocks proved equally impressive. Everything about the car was tight, and responded perfectly to the controls.

“You gonna buy it?” I asked as we rounded a corner and headed back to the workshop. Dumb question, right? Of course he was gonna buy it! How could he fucking resist the sexy charms of this sweet old girl?

“Well, I guess I’m kinda tempted.”

“I knew it!”

“But it’s probably outa my price range. What am I talking about? I don’t have a price range! I had no intention of buying anything just ten minutes ago, let alone an old car.”

“But you do now, right?” I beamed.

“You don’t understand, Daniel. It’s not just the purchase price. It’s all the other costs… insurance, registration, maintenance.” And on and on he went. Yadda, yadda, yadda. Jeez!

“Whaddaya mean you had no intention of buying anything? You were talking about buying a bicycle.”

“That’s different. A bicycle costs about 200, not 2000.”

“You think they’ll want 2000 for this jalop… uh, car?”

“Maybe more. She runs pretty well. Brakes, transmission, suspension, steering… everything works just fine.”

“I knew you’d be impressed, B. This is a relationship made in Heaven. And it’s a great car for sex, too! Check out the back seat!”

“I’ll take your word for that,” he chuckled. “But we’ll never know. I can’t afford it.” Then he went on and on again about the cost of running and maintaining a car.

Back at the workshop, B and I went inside the “office”, where B placed the keys on the old, worn counter that must’ve supported a million elbows in its time. There was no one in attendance, so B’s palm hit the bell. Ding! By the time the tall dude had appeared, we’d had a chance to check out the joint. It was almost a museum with office furniture and stuff dating back to the 50s and 60s. There was a sofa in the corner with half its stuffing showing.

“What’s the asking price?”

“We’re selling it for a friend. He’s asking eleven hundred.”

“That means he’ll settle for a thousand,” B was quick to say. “I don’t have the cash on me right now. Tomorrow OK?”

Woohoo! B was talking serious business here! Yes!

“Tomorrow’s fine,” the tall dude said. “But I’ll have to check with my friend about your offer of a thousand. I’m sure it’ll be OK, though. He needs the money to travel north. I’ll get him to sign the rego papers then.”

“What time tomorrow?”

“About midday.”

I was soooo excited about the deal during the walk back to B’s house that I couldn’t help raving about it. “I knew it, B! I just knew that fucking car was meant for you! I could feel it in my water. Which reminds me….”

“Not here!” the old dude freaked when he saw me scratching my crotch. “Dammit! Wait ‘til we get home!”

“Don’t stress,” I cracked. “I was only teasing.”

“Yeah, right. I can never tell with you, Daniel. You’re always full of surprises, including this one.” Then he paused to shake his head. “I can’t believe that I just bought a damn car!”

“You’re gonna love that thing, B. You’ll probably move your bed into the garage,” I laughed. “Hey, then you can buy a digital camera like you said, and a bicycle rack, and you’ll be able to check out all the cool places around here, and…”

“Whoa, Daniel! Hold your horses! Where do you think all the damn money’s gonna come from? If you were my financial advisor I’d be broke in a second.”

“Bullshit! You’d be a happy old dude having a wicked time. Besides, you need to get away from that comp more fucking often, B. You’re gonna go stale and your head’s gonna get all warped outa shape sitting in front of that thing all fucking day.”

“Don’t tell Lindsay or Sue about the car. I swore black and blue that I’d never buy another one. But that was before I met YOU.”

“Yeah, right. Blame me!” I laughed as I jumped the gate. “Like I parked it down the road and put the ‘for sale’ sign on it?”

B wasn’t in a jumping mood, and chose to step over the gate, which was only two feet high, anyway.

“Remember what Cody wrote in his email before you left Sydney for Taree? He said you were gonna give Taree some class! Well, now you can ‘cause you’ve got a Holden Premier!”

“A Holden what? Prem-mir? It’s a Holden Premmy-ya.”

“Premmy-ya? How the fuck do you get Premmy-ya outa Premier? You Aussies talk weird.”

“Anyway, did you see the manufacture date? 1971? It’s not exactly a gleaming machine straight off the showroom floor, mate. She might have been a class act 31 years ago, but not now.”

“Trust me, B. You’ll make Tough Titties a class act all over again.”

“Tough who”

“Didn’t you notice the license plate? TTZ? It’s gotta be Tough Titties, right?”

As soon as we’d arrived in B’s office, the first thing I did was check for mail from Cody. Zip. “What the fuck’s the matter with Cody? He should have replied by now!”

“Sometimes he doesn’t answer for long periods. He doesn’t have regular access to the internet like he used to at school. So don’t worry about it, Daniel.”

“But he knows I’m here with you in Taree. He should be making more of an effort to keep in fucking touch!”

“He will. He always does.”

“I hope you’re right, B. I’m worried about my bud.”

We were in the kitchen making ham and tomato sandwiches for lunch when I decided to confront B about something I’d noticed but hadn’t mentioned to date. “Butts,” I repeated. “They’re not the same as Lindsay’s.”

“Lindsay doesn’t have a butt. He’s practically a living skeleton.”

“I’m not talking about your saggy old tired buns, B, or Lindsay’s skinny butt, I’m talking about cigarette butts. I’ve seen a few in that ashtray on the front verandah and they’re different to Lindsay’s butts. He rolls his ciggies thin like a match. So whose butts are the thicker ones?”

“OK,” he shrugged after slicing a red, ripe tomato into several pieces, “so I sneak a puff now and then when no one’s looking.”

“You said you’d given it up.”

“I have given it up, Daniel.”

“So how come you’re still smoking?”

“You’re too young to appreciate the kinda stress I have to put up with, Daniel. Sometimes I get so pissed off when things don’t go according to plan that… well... I need something to calm me down.”

“That’s bullshit, B, and you know it. Are you saying that I don’t get stressed sometimes? Or get pissed off? And what about Cody? What would you say to him if he grabbed a fucking cigarette everytime he was stressed? Huh?”

“You know very well what I’d say, Daniel.”

“So what’s with this smoking thing?”

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