Rare Occasion

Eric pulled two more beers out of the cooler, opened one and handed it to Trey before opening his own. “Dude, you have to get back in the game at some point.”

“Says who?” Trey took a sip of the cold beer, enjoying the long afternoon’s relaxation after a hard day of labor.

“Says everyone.”

“Not everyone. I don’t say that.” Trey shook his head. “I’m happy on my own, thank you. I’ve got plenty to keep me occupied and I don’t need you trying to hook me up with your Aunt’s coworker’s friend’s niece.”

Eric took a long pull on his beer. “It’s not like that, dude. Do you really think I’d just throw some rando at you?”

“Yes. That’s exactly what you’d do.” Trey leaned back. “Besides, it feels like you’re saying I’m not good enough for someone to want to date without being pushed into it. ‘Hey, I set you up for a date with this guy you’d never date if you saw him first, but he’s okay once you get to know him.’ It’s demeaning, man.”

“You really think that’s what I’m saying — or is this just another pity party?”

Trey gave Eric a playful punch in the shoulder. “Don’t come at me with pity party, ass. I’m happy being single, you just don’t want to believe that.”

“You…happy? Compared to who? Eeyore?” Eric finished his beer and dropped the bottle into the box of empties next to the cooler. “You’re definitely a glass-half-empty sort.”

“I’m more, ‘The glass doesn’t exist unless you prove it to me.’ Anyway, I can be realistic, maintain a healthy skepticism, and still be happy. Besides, if I always expect the worst, no one can disappoint me, but I am pleasantly surprised on the rare occasion.”

Eric pointed at Trey. “See…that right there. You say you expect the worst and people rarely do better than that.”

“We just have a difference in how we see the fundamental nature of mankind. You see some sort of rainbow happy land where everyone is good and sweet and kind, and I see the actual self-serving and short-sighted nature of humans.”

“Damn. Why am I your friend again?”

Trey dropped his empty in the box with the others. “Because I was the one that protected you from the bullies from grade school through high school.”

“Oh, yeah.”

“How does your ‘People are good by nature’ fit into that story?”

Eric laughed. “Okay, yeah, people are generally decent, but kids aren’t people yet, they’re just little assholes.”

“I’ll allow it,” Trey said. He stood and stretched out his back. “I should get home and get cleaned up. Besides, your wife’s going to be home soon, and I don’t want to get roped into another session of ‘I hate your ex’ with her. I swear she acts like Vic left her rather than me.”

“Connie likes you and doesn’t like it when her friends are hurt.”

“Okay, but it’s been a year now, she could let it rest.”

Eric stood. “Yeah, it’s been a year, and you still haven’t even tried dating again.”

“The barracuda’s been keeping me busy. Driving okay now, and ready for paint, but still trying to get the computer dialed in. It wants to stall at idle when it’s warm.”

“You need to see a mechanic who knows how to tune those heli whatever engines.”

“HEMI…it’s a Mopar HEMI, 426, supercharged.”

Eric laughed. “Whatever. I heard you revving it up yesterday. Sounds fine to me. Just don’t idle.”

“I wish it was that simple.” Trey waved as he walked away. He crossed through the yard to the road, then walked across to his house. They hadn’t planned on living across the street from each other, but it worked out that way.

Trey showered and sat in front of the television. He wasn’t paying attention to what was on, it was just noise and distraction. Eric was like a brother to him, but sometimes he was annoying.

He cleared his mind and watched a nature show about dugongs and manatees, followed by one about humpback whale migrations. He turned off the television and was considering going to bed when Eric called him.

“What?” he answered.

“I might know a mechanic that could help.”

“Yeah, if you can meet up at the Rockin’ Arms Diner tomorrow at noon, you might have the fix for your tuning problem.”

“And you know they’re a good mechanic because…?”

“Because trust me. If you don’t think so, you can walk away.”

“Why don’t I just go to his shop?”

“Just…meet up for lunch and see what you find out.”

“If this is a setup, I’ll kick your ass.”

“Whatever. Tomorrow, noon, Rockin’ Arms, be there, they’ll find you.”

“Fine.”

Trey pulled into the parking lot of the Rockin’ Arms Diner, a light toe on the gas pedal to keep the engine from fully idling into a stall. He pulled into a spot in front of the diner. He made his way inside and took a booth where he could keep an eye on his ’69 Plymouth Barracuda.

The sound of another big block caught his attention, and a mid-50’s Ford F-100 rumbled into the parking lot and pulled in next to him. From his vantage point, he couldn’t see who was driving or who got out, but judging by the truck, he thought it might be the mechanic.

He was looking over the menu when a woman walked in and approached his table. “Trey?” she asked. She had long, dark hair, large, brown eyes, and a constellation of freckles across her pale face. She was dressed in slacks and a loose blouse, holding a sweater over her hands while she fidgeted.

“Yeah, I’m Trey.” She looked familiar in the sort of way that he might have seen her in passing. “You from around here?”

“No, just got here. My sister lives here, though.” She sat down across from him, her hands hidden under the table. “I’m Coleen. I’m, uh, new to this.”

“To what? Mechanic work?”

Confusion clouded her eyes. “No, um…blind dates.”

Trey let out a sigh. “Your sister wouldn’t happen to be named Connie, would she? Married to Eric?”

Coleen looked down at the table. “Yeah, sorry. I can…I can go if you want.”

“No, no. Trey told me he was sending a mechanic to meet me about the Barracuda. Figures he was just trying to set me up.”

She sat upright and eyes grew wide. “That’s your car? The 1969 Barracuda out front? I’d love to work on her.”

“Yeah? Yeah.”

“What power plant?”

“426 HEMI, supercharged crate…about 150 miles on it.”

She leaned forward, her hands on the table. “What’s the issue?”

“Idles rough, and stalls sometimes, but only when it’s warm.”

“And the gauges look fine, though?”

“Yeah.”

“I bet it’s the coolant sensor. If that’s bad, the computer thinks the engine is still cold and the AFR gets too rich.”

“AF—right, air-fuel-ratio.” Trey looked at her hands; rough and oil stained.

She saw him looking and jerked her hands back under the table. “Sorry. Mechanics hands…gross, I know.”

Trey put his own rough, scarred hands on the table. Stains from metal work made dark lines in the creases. “Look, you’re Connie’s sister, so you know I work with Eric in the fab shop. Working hands are working hands, there’s nothing gross about them. They never mentioned you were a mechanic, though.”

“They never mentioned you had a sweet ride.”

Trey laughed. “Wait, was that your 50-something Ford?”

Coleen smiled. “’56…with a 502 Stroker. My grandfather left it to my dad, but he’s not mechanical at all, so he gave it to me to restore.”

“Straight restoration?” Trey asked.

“Restomod. Modern engine, new frame and suspension, disc brakes, back-up camera, touchscreen system, the works.”

Trey nodded. “Same. Who built the frame?”

“Your shop. Hell, you and Eric probably worked on it.”

“Probably. I built the frame for the Barracuda in the shop, on my own time, with my own materials. Plus the motor mounts, and a bunch of other small parts.”

“I’m opening a shop here, doing restorations, restomods, and hot-rods. Wanna bring the Barracuda over and we can check it out? Maybe get it on the dyno?”

Trey nodded. “Sounds like a plan. Let’s finish lunch and then go.”

“Good. I can get out of my sister’s ‘date clothes’ then.”

“Where’s your shop?”

“You know Wonder Automotive?”

Trey chuckled. “As in, wonder how it stayed open so long. Yeah, I know it. You bought it?”

“Yeah.”

“Where are you staying?”

“In the shop. At least until I get it up and running and get some income.”

“Why aren’t you staying with Eric and Connie?”

“Have you seen their spare room?”

“Oh, yeah, the quilting stuff…forgot about that.” Trey thought for a moment. “If you want a comfortable place to stay while you’re getting up and running, you can stay at my place. Connie and Eric are right across the street so you can bother them whenever you want.”

Coleen smirked. “You know what would really bother them? If they see my truck parked there every night and we don’t say a word to them about it. Just refuse to talk about it at all.”

Trey laughed. “That’d get right up Eric’s ass.”

“You still mad at him for setting us up?”

“Nah. Can’t stay mad at him. Besides, if he’d just introduced us, I probably would’ve asked you out, anyway.”

“Really?”

“Really. Speaking of which…what are your plans for tomorrow evening?”

“Nothing.”

“How about we go to the classic car show over in Lester?”

Coleen smiled. “It’s a date.”

Trey looked at her and a wide smile crossed his face. “It’s a rare occasion.”

“What is?”

“This. I’m pleasantly surprised.”