You've got to take advantage of sixty degree weather in January. Thank goodness Meat and Tater are next door to remind me.
I got a text Wednesday. It read "put your boots on lets hike the prospectors trail." My response "let's do it tomorrow" was met with "rain tomorrow. nows the time." My "ok. give me ten minutes" got "meet us in the parking lot, Tater wants to take her car."
I heard the unmistakable engine growl of Tater's Corvette as I was tying my second boot. The trail of the sound told me she was heading to Beaver to get on the new 4 lane to Breaks.
I drove the old way, dodging small rocks that have tumbled off the mountain, rolling through the curves of the High N'Arrs as quickly as my all wheel drive will carry me. I was surprised they were just getting out of the car when I pulled in.
"Are you just getting here?" I asked them. "Figured you'd be cussing me for waiting."
Meat laughed. "She liked the ride up the new road so much she turned around and did it again. After two trips we did a slow roll through the park."
I looked at Tater and back at her car. "So what do you say? When is that car going to be old enough you'd let Meat drive it."
Tater sang loopily,"until the twelfth of never".
Meat objected. "What makes you think I want to? Driving a Vette ain't near as cool as it was before pictures of Uncle Joe in one came along."
We started down the trail. "So Tater, not that Meat has a point, and Uncle Joe aside, you don't really seem the Vette type."
Tater looked shocked and stopped. "Why is that? Don't you think I want to go fast SJ?"
She sat on a fallen tree that looked like it'd been placed just for this moment and sighed.
"My dad got me one for my sixteenth birthday like every other debutante in New England in the 70s. Except he wouldn't let me drive it unless he was in the passenger seat. So I mostly drove one of the old family Volvos. Once a month he'd take me out to drive the Vette. Turned out we both loved to go fast."
"He'd trade the old one in for a new one every four years. One was always in the garage at home. That was the last one, a 2002 Z06. He died in 2004. Meat's the only person beside my Dad I've ever driven one of them with."
Tater got quiet. I stammered.
Meat jumped in. "You DO NOT want to ride the passenger side in one of those things all the way from Vermont, SJ."
Tater snapped out. She jumped up and we proceeded.
"Well did you at least get to go fast on the ride up?" I asked.
"Hardly" she came back. "Meat was crying so loud when I hit 130 I backed off. Then I put him out and turned around and did it again."