uncle randy and the chevy

she was a constant presence
in the cool quiet cement encased garage
beneath the perfectly aligned
silver cover

you’d flip on the
fluorescent lights
shocking
the visual silence
as the brightness
traded center stage with
soft shaded sunlight
streaming in through the only window

with a flourish,
you’d remove the cover
and we’d stand…
staring…

i would run a single
finger along the
straight lines
of slick gunmetal gray

you never scolded me
for seeing her beauty
with my hands

for hours, i’d listen, as you
explained the mechanical details
of her big block engine
machined cam bearings
heavy pistons
fuel injection

i was distracted only
by your fingertips
permanently stained
smudges of black
from years of
creating this and
similar works of art

you would open the garage door
my tiny frame dwarfed by
your 6 feet
our shadows competing
as the sun kissed us
where we stood
together

i’d watch
you open the heavy
steel
suicide door
settle into the driver’s seat
and turn the key which lived permanently
in the ignition

the smell of gasoline
engine grease
smoky exhaust
rich leather
swirling
thick in the air
weighted in my lungs

the bass roar
of the engine
quite literally
stirred my soul
boiled my blood
quickened my pulse
made the back of
my neck tingle

i was never good
at hiding
the sheer joy
the rush
and excitement
i felt

but i didn’t have to
you always understood

“one day”, you’d tell me,
“when i’m gone,
this will be yours”

i’d always feel guilty
for instantly
picturing my bare
grown up hands
gripping the leather wrapped wheel
plowing hard through tree covered morning mountain roads

but only a little.

© jmr/2009