This is the second part a story titled, The Met. A small little car on a car lot in Key West is telling the story, and my Uncle purchases him. After he drives it out of the car lot my uncle goes a bit fast and is stopped. After that Norm drives the Key West submarine base commander to the Boca Chica naval Air station and our little car hears a lot.
The Met
Here comes an attendant. In fact, he is the guy who serviced me yesterday afternoon.
Ah…Ah... Roar. How do you like the sound? The Austin four is a nice sound in a little package. We backed out and pulled up to Key West
Motor’s office. The salesman and my new owner were standing out front. Norman had a key in one hand and papers in the other.
Norman and the salesman shook hands, the attendant gave him the other key, and he got in.
As Norman pulled out, “The sales man yelled, it’s a three–speed, Mr. Kranich. Have fun!”
We eased out of the lot, turned right, went a few blocks and turned right again, heading south. Then I heard him say under his breath,
“On to Roosevelt Blvd, and let’s see what she’ll do!”
“Uh oh!” I thought.
We came to a stop sign. The street sign read Roosevelt Blvd. We turned left paralleling the Atlantic Ocean on the right. The waves were caressing the bright sandy beach, and dazzling white seagulls were gliding about.
I could feel his foot come down on my accelerator.
Burr- Ah shift
Burr– Burr
Norm was running me through all three speeds. I could feel the carbon blowing out of my 4 cylinders. My past owner, the little old lady, never went over 45, and did it slowly.
We were cruising along rather briskly. If I could have, I would have said, “Norm, we’re at 65, and the speed limit is 45 along here.” But I didn’t have to. That is, he realized it when the red lights and siren suddenly came on behind us. I heard Norman say under his breath, “Oh, oh!”
We pulled over to the side, the cruiser right behind us. The officer got out of his vehicle, adjusted his hat, and came up. Norman was getting out his driver’s license.
“Sir, could I see your driver’s license, registration, and insurance?”
“Yes sir, here it is.”
“Norman, is that you? I didn't recognize you in this buggy. I figured you were just another hot shot tourist.”
“Hi Sam. I’m sorry, I just bought this car and was trying it out.”
“More like, blowing it out!...Norm,” Sam said as he handed Norman’s paperwork back.
“You know speeding can get you a ticket! What is this thing? I’ve never seen one before like it. Probably the only one on this island.”
“Me neither,” Norman said. “It’s a Nash Metropolitan. I was probably at top speed anyway. It only has an English 4-cylinder under the hood and three on the floor. I bought it to go back and forth to the Navy yard.”
“Open the hood, and let’s take a look.”
Norm pulled the latch, got out, and lifted up the hood.
“There it is.”
“You’re right Norm, an Austin 4-cylinder. It was moving pretty good when you came by me! Well, Norm, I’ve got to get going. Keep a light pace, take care, and I’ll see you around. Maybe at the Officer’s Club this weekend. Will you be playing with your orchestra?”
“You bet we will! See you then, Sam…and thanks.”
“Well, we were sure lucky,” I thought, as my new owner started up and pulled out. Instead of racing around Roosevelt Blvd, he turned left at
1st street, right before the salt ponds, headed north to Fogarty, and then turned right after a couple of blocks, to my new home. A big four-door
Pontiac was parked in the drive next to the house and a small camper trailer in front of it. I was given a small gravel side space out front. It was sure nice because I could see everything that came up and down the street.
As time went on I learned some things about my new owner. I took him to the downtown naval station and submarine base every work day.
Naturally he didn't talk to me, at least not directly. Occasionally he talked to himself, a short exclamation of sorts. But the afternoon he took the captain from his work at the Naval Station to the Boca Chica Naval Air Station I learned a lot. If I had been a human I would have needed a security clearance. Norm and a uniformed guy came out, a guy in a bright, smart, crisp navy white uniform. They got in, and started me up.
“Thanks for giving me a lift, Norm. Car’s in the shop, and all the motor pool jeeps are either out or getting serviced. I need to get over to that meeting.”
“Think nothing of it, Captain. It’s nice to get out.”
From the Author:
My second full-length book , Florida Keys’ Watercolor Kapers is composed of 336 pages. There are 12 stories running from 6 pages to as many as 72 pages. It is fully illustrated with 88 watercolors and sketches. The watercolors I made roaming around Key West after I finished my 750 mile hike from Georgia to Key West. (See book or Don Browne’s SouthWest Florida Online News records, A Walk Across Florida.) As you read these stories you will experience Key West, the Keys, and the Caribbean. These stories span the time of the early 1800’s to 1969. bkranich.wixsite.com/bobkranich
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