Chapter Two

The next day after we up and left that town, leaving the shared sorrow behind us. We're on the road not ten minutes when we started to hear some unexplainable noise coming from the engine. None of us knew cars and suddenly had the fear of god in us. A breakdown would leave us stranded for god knows how long. We were barely making enough money for food and gas; no way we could afford to fix the car. The fact that we had not shaken the sleep from our heads yet only added to our paranoia. Bobby, decided to pipe up,”maybe its just the sound of the brakes squeaking? You know like friction.” None of had any idea if it was the brakes or just the seats creaking along with the bumps in the road. I was driving first that day and was looking for some kind of instruction as to what to do. I kept shooting frank these panicked looks every time we heard that noise. “What we’re gonna do is pull over the next chance we get and have a look under the hood. Until then we’re not gonna do any speculating or nothing of the sort. No point in getting ourselves worked up, OK?” frank’s words were comforting even though none of us knew what a car’s innards should look like.

A mile down the road there was a gravel lot that I pulled into. I made sure that I turned the car around to face the road before shutting the engine off just in case we had to push it. Even after turning the engine off the sound persisted. We knew that couldn’t be right and just looked at each other trying not to look too worried. Popping the hood open and propping it open the noise only grew louder and then at that point grew confusing. For this sound is not one normally found in automobiles or machinery at all for that matter. Our looks of worry grew to looks of confusion. Frank looked at me and mouthed “ what the fuck?” while Bobby began to grow a smile. I had never seen him really smile before, and it showed on his face that he had not done it in a while. Without hesitation Bobby reached into the car and pulled out a small kitten and held it up. At that point a motorist was passing our parked display of nonsense, looking at us to see what the matter was when he saw a small cat pulled from the engine area of our car. Holding the cat, bobby erupted into laughter while looking at us and smiling. When something special happens, it is wise to truly appreciate it. You never know how long it will be until it happens again.

Back on the road with a much better demeanor we discussed our new feline companion. “The way I see it is he must’ve climbed up into the car last night for warmth, then when we started driving this morning he held on and yelled like hell. Probably scared him real good.” Frank’s theory was the most feasible one so we just regarded it as truth. Keeping my eyes on the road, “Well I’m glad that the cat is ok, but what are going to do with it? Keeping it wouldn’t be to practical.” Still holding the cat close to his chest and now feeding it pieces of bread bobby, proclaimed with the most forceful sounding voice I’d ever heard him use, “I’m going to take care of him until I can find someone better off who would want him. His name’s Shakespeare by the way.” And that was that. Everyone needs something to love or take care of to help forget about their own problems.

With my eyes back on the road and my heart out of my stomach we journeyed onward to the next town that we hoped would receive us. Shakespeare had quit his meowing, which was good because I am one who is easily irritated. Frank and I were enthusiastically discussing politics when we hit a bump in the road causing the car's cup holder to pop out of the dash. This happens every time you hit a bump, pound on the steering wheel, etc. And every time it happened Frank would mutter something under his breath about his old cantankerous car. He loved that car like Bobby learned to love Shakespeare. Every knick in the paint, every cough of the engine, every fault of the car was another chip out of Frank’s soul. I casually leaned over and pushed the cup holders back into the dash, also muttering something under my breath. “Only hold one size of cups. fuckin things.”

But everyone needs someone or something to worry about. It helps them keep their thoughts away from themselves. When there are troubles to think about other than your own it’s somehow oddly comforting. More people would see their own personal problems in their life disappear if they just took time to help others out. I used to have someone to care about. I used to have somebody whose problems I had made my own. I used to have somebody I would crawl through broken glass for and still would if I saw her today. But that isn’t the case any longer; all I have now is Bobby, Frank, this old car beneath me, and the road ahead of me.