Jake and Darcy, Part 2

I pull my car out onto Union and head towards Main.

The windows are down, the radio is playing, and I feel pretty good. I love the way the heat seems to get lazy around 5 in the summer. You know the worst of it is over, but it tries to soldier on through the night.

As I pass Stokes road I give it a little gas. I like the drive out to Dixon’s. There are some great roads in this area of Jersey to just drive, and be left alone with your thoughts and a soundtrack.

I pull into Dixon’s, and turn the car off.

I push open the door and the bells against it sing their song.

“Hey Jake, how are you today?”

“Good, Mr. Starks.”

“What can I do for you?”

“I need a baseball.”

“Oh, check aisle two, I think there’s a couple there.”

“Ok.”

I like Mr. Starks. He doesn’t hold my brother against me, and that’s a rarity.

“You know, Jake, if I can do anything for your folks, let me know.”

“I will, Mr. Starks.”

“And goddamnit, Jake, call me Rich. You’re an adult now.”

“Okay, sir.”

He smiles as he hands me back the change. The bells on the door 'clang' behind me as I step into the sun.

As I turn the key, my ’69 Chevelle roars to life. I love this car. I remember when my brother first brought it home. Holy shit, what a piece of crap it was. I remember spending weekends out in the yard, just me and Chaz, pulling it apart and putting it back together. I guess that’s where I first fell in love with cars.

I pull back out on to Vincentown Road and head home, Jet’s “Get What You Need” pumping from the speakers.

I walk into the house and am greeted with the smell of fried chicken.

“That you, honey?”

“Yeah, Ma, I’ll wash up and be down in a minute.”