TRACY’S CAR BREAKS DOWN IN MERIDIAN, IDAHO

Tracy pulled into a farmer’s driveway, coasting and freaking out. Her car had stopped running and her dad, just laid off, couldn’t afford this garbage. She was rolling and crying. Good thing the farmer’s driveway was so long.

           Tracy thought of being broken down in Meridian, Idaho, population 2,000, and cried harder. She felt a slight bump and, belatedly, hit the brakes. She rubbed her eyes some and saw that she stopped with the front of her car on a locust tree. A large—well, not tall, but thick through the chest—man was walking up to the driver’s side window, yelling, “What the hell do you want?”

           She burst out of the car crying, “I need to use your phone, sir. My car stopped running and my dad is going to go crazy! Sir, I need to use the phone!” She couldn’t help openly weeping.

           The scary man looked to her, looked to her car, then at the house. “Phone’s in there,” he said, pointing at the rear porch. He reached in the car, popped the stick-shift into neutral, then backed it up a few feet. He looked at Tracy, who was still crying, and repeated in his harsh voice, “In there!”

           Tracy didn’t want to enter the house, but what choice did she have? She walked in and encountered a woman. Crying, barely able to see, she repeated her predicament. “Oh, dear, sit down. Can I get you some tea? The phone’s on the wall when you’re ready.”

           Still crying, Tracy told the lady, “There’s a man out there…”

           “Oh, that’s my husband. He’s grouchy, but a good man. Wait and see. Should I start that tea?”

           Tracy said no, thanks. That old grouch out there was a good man? In her eighteen years of life, she’d never met a nice grouch. She was suddenly afraid for her car. “I bumped on of your locusts back there, and he was backing it up, by hand! Is my car safe? My dad’s going to kill me!”

           “Safer here than anywhere. ‘Kill’ is such a strong word. Doesn’t he love you?” She stopped the water filling the tea pot. “You aren’t in danger, are you?”

           Tracy went to the wall phone. She saw the calendar that read, ‘1972 Visit Yellowstone.’ Her father had the same one. They must have money in the same bank. She put her finger in the rotary dial, but couldn’t tell what number she was at. She sat down. “I’d better have some tea.” She laid her head on her arm and wept.

           The bad man’s wife put the teapot on her electric stove, came over and put her hand on Tracy’s shoulder. “When I met my dear husband, I had doubts, too.” Tracy shook in her sobbing in disbelief. “Oh, he was harsh and boisterous. He stood up to the biggest guy in the room.” Tracy heaved in her sobs. “The biggest guy was six-foot-seven.”

           Tracy looked up. “Your husband is shorter than me.”

           “Yeah, well, he got on a chair and knocked him out.”

           That didn’t make Tracy feel better.

           “There, there, girl. I walked out on it. No siree, I wanted no part of it. But the son of a gun won me over nonetheless. He’s a better man than anyone could guess. I ain’t no fool.”

           Tracy, sobbing, had serious doubts about that. The guy was a crackpot. Gruff in any way of the word. There’s no way his B. S. would fool anyone in Tracy’s family. That guy, no matter how short, was ten tons crazy!

           Tracy realized she was no longer crying. She lifted her face of her arms.

           Crazy man’s wife said, “Tea?”

           Tracy answered, “Okay.”

           “Milk? Sugar?”

           “No thanks.” Tracy, who had never drunk tea in her life, treasured her first sip of Earl Grey. “I love it,” she said.

           “Good,” the wife replied. Tracy waited for more false praise of the crazy guy in the driveway, but there wasn’t any. They sat in silence, occasionally sipping tea. “Oh,” the wife said. “Let’s have this with cookies. Like they do in England. I hear it’s good for the digestion.”

The crazy man’s wife got some cookies, placed them on a plate, and Tracy thought they were delicious.

           “I should really try to call my father,” Tracy said.

           “Phone is on the wall.”

           Tracy knew. She dialed her home number. She let it ring twenty times. She started crying again. She called the plant’s number. After two rings it answered, “Hogg’s Manufacturing, can I place your call?” Tracy had forgotten, they’d laid her father off last week.

           “No,” she said, embarrassed. “Wrong number.”

           Tracy laid her arm down, her head next, and started crying. “I’m such a bad daughter,” she moaned.

           “I’ve got four, two girls,” the wife said. “If you were a bad daughter, I would have already known it.” She laid a hand on Tracy’s shoulder again. “It’s going to be all right.”

           Even though Tracy knew the woman was delusional, she believed the words. She sat up and drank her Earl Grey. “Thanks,” she said. She ate another cookie, finished her cup of tea, and walked outside, dreading every second of that walk.

           The biggest guy Tracy had ever seen was out in the yard. He was six foot seven if he was an inch. He was talking to the crazy guy. “I took a fall for your wife, but no more!”

           The crazy guy stood in front of the really tall guy and was not impressed. “If she wouldn’t have been impressed, I swear you wouldn’t have gotten up!” Crazy guy noticed Tracy standing there. “Hey, little girl. Get in your car and start it.”

           Tracy, scared, stood there and did nothing.”

           The crazy guy, non plussed by her inaction and the big guy, said, “Do it!”

           Tracy did. It started up and ran.

           Tracy got out and hugged the crazy man. “Thank you, thank you. How can I ever repay you?”

           The craziest man Tracy had ever met said, “It was just a loose sparkplug wire. No big deal!”

           Tracy kissed his forehead. She had to wait to leave in her car. She was crying again.