An Unusual Country Afternoon

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An Unusual Country Afternoon

May 17, 1994; English Comp I short story assignment

by H.B. Huisinga

About two years ago, I woke up to a hot, summer morning. The sun was shining through a few tears in the black curtains that were hanging in my bedroom windows. My eyes were watering, and I stumbled out of bed to the sound of birds chirping outside my bedroom windows. I could feel it in the air--today was going to be a great day.

The year had turned to summer, and I was out of school for the next two and a half months. Before I got the day started, I had to clean my room, the house, take a bath, and get cleaned up. As I was doing these chores, I couldn't believe how lucky I was to be out of school and experiencing this wonderful day.

I stepped out in front of our big picture window in the living room and decided that today was a perfect day to go exploring on the country roads outside of town. The air was unusually fresh and clean for Decatur (as opposed to the usual stench of the Staley and ADM processing smells).

I was home alone that day because my mom didn't have the luxury of having the summer off. She still insisted that I call her if I was going out so she wouldn't worry about me. She had also made it clear that I was to stay home until all the chores were finished. I had finally finished these chores when it became obvious that I could not stay at home for fear I would let the summer pass by without me. I couldn't stand it any longer. I had to get out.

About one o'clock I was ready to go, and had just stepped out the door when the day really hit me. Everything seemed surreal. The day was comfortably warm, and the birds were signing. There was a light wind blowing across my face, and the kids in my neighborhood were laughing and playing with each other. It was like stepping into a whole new world. It was just me and my car, Christine.

Christine was an eighty-five Pontiac T1000. She was navy blue and had a four-speed stick-shift. She was sitting in the driveway, and almost seemed to call to me, "Hurry up! The day is getting away from us. Hurry up or you'll be late.". I decided that she was right. The day was at its peek for exploring.

I got in and buckled my seatbelt when something caught my eye. It was a little brown squirrel running down into the ravine behind my house. I just sat there looking at the ravine--the trees, the vibrant green leaves hanging from the trees, and once in awhile I could catch a glimpse of nature roaming at free will, but that wasn't enough for me. I wanted the country, and I wanted Christine to take me there.

I started up the car, and as usual it was a job to do. Christine had never started up like a new car. She always started up like a very old car. It took a lot of pumping the gas and a couple of hard turnovers before she started, and that's what I loved most about her. She wasn't impersonal by starting right up. She had character, and she finally started up. We were on our way.

I turned on the radio and put in a tape of Simon and Garfunkel. The first song I heard was "Feelin' Groovy". Wow! What a great day this was turning out to be, I thought. Singing to Simon and Garfunkel, I drove down 22nd Street. I finally ended up by Richland Community College. I turned off onto Rea's Bridge Road, and decided it was time for a new tape. I looked through my stack of tapes and decided on Ricky Van Shelton. I put it in and fast forwarded to my favorite song "Backroads".

I kept driving down Rea's Bridge Road not knowing where I was going. I had never been out this way before in my life. That was what I was here for, to go exploring. It was kind of scary going fifty-five mph down a road I didn't know, and I guess that was the kind of adventure I was looking for.

I passed a water treatment plant, a bridge, the Isaac Walton League, and a few houses scattered by the side of the road. I was in the best of spirits (and unfortunately, I wasn't paying attention to where I was going).

Suddenly there were two sets of ridges embedded in the road. I remember asking myself what they were for. I didn't have to drive much further to find the answer to my question. Those ridges were one way of yelling at me, "Look out!". I quickly looked up to see a sign announcing a turn going by quite fast. I tried to slow down, but my reactions were too slow. Christine went quickly over the ditch and out into a corn field.

I sat in the field for a second and wondered how I was going to get Christine out of that field. My next though was, How the hell did I get into this mess?

I was sitting in the field (thank God the crops had already been taken out) about twenty feet from the side of the road, and I was sure that Christine hadn't survived the accident. I was positive that I was going to have to ask someone in a house nearby to use their phone to call a towing company to rescue us. I decided to try and get out of the field myself.

I pushed in on the clutch, shifted into neutral and said a prayer. After Christine roared pitifully into life, I shifted down to first and slowly got out of the field and up the side of the ditch. I eased out onto the road again, and thanked God that I wouldn't have to embarrass myself by calling a tow truck and then my mom. I went very slowly to make sure Christine was all right. Everything felt all right, but there was always the possibility of something major going wrong with her at any time.

I went a couple of miles down the road and decided that nothing was going to happen. I made it home all right, and even in time to beat my mom home. I was lucky enough that she didn't even look at the grass stuck in my bumper.

That day I made a vow to myself--I would never go speeding anywhere ever again. I laugh about this incident now, but I believe it helped me to be a better driver. And now, when I tell this story, I make sure that everybody admires Christine. She never let me down (even when we scrapped the infamous concrete wall around Lakeshore Drive one morning before school). In essence, she was like a Timex watch--she took a licking and kept on ticking.

Now I drive a beautiful red Mustang, Simone, and believe me, she can't do what Christine could, and I would never ask her to.