Dirt Road Diary

Grease is smeared across Harry's cheek. His hands are covered with it and it is has practically replaced gel, holding it back as he has ran his hands through his hair so many times. It's smeared in hand streaks from how many times he has wiped his hands on it. He has his head buried under the hood of a Volvo and there's old school rock and roll playing from the old dusty stereo system in the corner where his phone is plugged in.

A ding from the door signals that a customer has just walked through the front door of the small parts shop in the front. Knowing that his boss isn't there to get it he grabs a shop rag to wipe his hands off on before he heads out to greet the customer, "What can I do for you?"

The man is in a suit minus the jacket and has a bit of grease on his pants--something he doesn't look all that happy about but Harry tries to not smile over the matter. Money is money and he has no problem taking the money of this man.

"My daughter's car broke down on the way into town, your boss is headed here with it," the man tell him. Though it's unnecessary information he also tells Harry, "My daughter is so attached to that damn thing, she wouldn't let him be alone with it and ride with me in the Beamer."

Harry resists the urge to roll his eyes over the man's choice of car. Of course he would drive an auspicious vehicle like that. He grabs a clipboard to take the man's information and asks, "Can I get a name and the make, model, and year of the car?"

The man's eyebrows furrow as he hands over his business card and tells him, "I think it's a 1967 Volkswagen Beetle but I'm not positive, you'll have to ask my daughter."

With an eyebrow raised Harry writes it down on the ticket. Clearly this man had no taste, his daughter, on the other hand, at least had the decency to choose something older... But if she's anything like her father he should be expecting it to show up painted yellow with flowers on it.
He's taking down notes of how the car was supposedly running before it broke down and barely notices his boss pulling in the parking lot. He excuses himself to go open the garage door of the last open spot in the shop and helps his boss get it off the truck and onto a lift, but he leaves it on the ground. To his surprise it's painted black and the interior has been redone all black as well. When the man's daughter gets out he notices a reoccurring theme--black makeup, lipstick, a worn out and holey black Slayer t-shirt, black skinny jeans, and black combat boots. Everything about her is black except for her hair, a vibrant violet that shines bright in the sunlight, and her eyes that shine a pale blue.

He catches himself wondering how she can stand the heat but forces himself to get to work checking out the damage of the vehicle. He jumps as a voice appears out of nowhere close to his ear but not directly next to it, "The oil has another thousand miles, I changed all of the fluids before I left, and had the tires balanced and rotated. Honestly I think that the clutch went out. Last time I let my dad drive my car..."

Harry looks over at her and laughs, "It's standard procedure to check. Think of it as like... getting a check up at the doctors. Even though there's likely nothing wrong with it you still have to check to be sure."

She raises an eyebrow but says nothing in protest. Instead she hops up on one of the tall stools that's next to his work bench. She tells him, "I'm sure it's the clutch, he doesn't downshift properly and rides the clutch at low speeds. He couldn't get it to go in or out of gear and it wouldn't accelerate."

He nods and tells her, "It's definitely the clutch then. That's a spendy fix." He's iffy because she seems like the type of girl that her father would pay for it all.

She sighs heavily and starts to pull out her wallet, "Well there goes my travel money this summer. Let's get these parts ordered."

He motions for her to follow him to the computers where his boss and her father are talking semantics and halts when her dad tells her, "Zoey, I'll pay for the repairs it's no problem." then he watches as they spend the next ten minutes bickering over who would pay for it and her father finally wins when he tells her, "I'm the one who was driving when it went out."

"It's a 1965 not '67," Zoey tells Harry as she reads him inputting the information into the computer to order her the brand new parts seeing as it can't be rebuilt. Out of curiosity she asks, "What's the high school like?"

"Awful," Harry admits with a laugh. He's glad when she follows in suit, "but at least you'll know someone. My mates and I spend a lot of time either at the lake, the bowling alley, or Parachutes. Well when I'm not here, which is pretty much all the time..."

"Well at least I'll know someone," she replies with a very forward wink. He's a bit taken back by the gesture as none of the girls around these parts are like that--they're all flirtatious of course but not the kind to make the first move like that. Then again, they're the kind of girls rolling around in summer dresses and girly shoes--this girl is something else. "Out of curiosity, do you guys do apprenticeships?"

Harry's eyebrows furrow in confusion and he shrugs. He honestly doesn't know the answer as he was born into the trade. He turns around and calls out, "Dad?"

Both older men look over but the older gentleman in the greased up jumpsuit replies, "Yes, Harry?"

"She wants to know if we do apprenticeships," he explains.

The man laughs loudly and replies, "We don't pay anyone to apprentice. But if you want to take her under her wing and she wants to learn then by all means." He shrugs but a smile is playing on his face--it has been a while since he saw Harry be interested in anyone of the female gender and he's a little giddy at the idea of having a new daughter-in-law, even if she does wear far too much black. Anything as long as his daughter is happy. Her father on the other hand, doesn't look pleased but doesn't say anything. Obviously at this point he has given up telling his daughter not to do anything.

"So what do you say?" she asks with a pearly white grin. "Will you have me?"

Harry laughs, turns around, and starts digging on one of the bottom shelves of the parts room. When he emerges he tosses it to her and tells her, "Welcome aboard."

She opens it up and her eyes sparkle as she looks at the brand new blue jumpsuit just like his. "Thank you!" she exclaims as she hugs it to her chest. "But you must know I have to dye it black right?"

He shrugs and replies, "I don't care what color it is. But know you're going to get a lot of shit when you start out at Henry High, there aren't any girls like you here." He doesn't mean it as an insult just genuinely preparing her for her upcoming debut at the high school.

"Good," she replies. The answer makes Harry curious. She leans over the counter with a wicked twinkle in her eye as she tells him, "It'll be all eyes on me." She winks flirtatiously and sticks out her tongue playfully. "I'm used to it though, even in New York I still got funny looks. Are you prepared?"

Harry's eyebrows furrow in confusion once again as he asks, "Ready for what?"

"To be seen with the weird girl," she replies as if the answer should be obvious.

"If you're ready to be seen with the grease monkey," he replies.

There's a devious look in her eye as she replies, "Challenge accepted."

Notes

What do you think?
Shall I continue?