God this trip through Indiana on Christmas eve in old paint my old Chrysler was running into some nasty waether. The transmission sputters and swears ceaselessly ...ggggdamudamudamudamu... gggggdamu damu damu...The windshield wipers smears a constant veil of ice and oil fighting for superiority clacking in counterpoint to the transmission...ggggdamdamu k damdamu k damdamu gggdamdamu...
Somehere near the Kentucky border the transmision sizzled with a fffffggggdamdamdamdamfffffffffff and the engine wailed wwwwwwooooaeeeaaaaaee ggg ggg ggg gug. dead.
The sudden quiet and reprieve from the harangueing profanities was heavenly, but deslolate as he!!.
Silence. Wind and whisling.
Where am I going to find help this time of night on Christmas eve. The only sign of civilization is a collapsed snow covered fence. No lights. No cars. I can't fix a doorknob, there's no sense even trying to look underneath the hood. Last year in the city the mechanic said he could find parts for this car but it could take up to a year. Something about it being discontinued after the first hundred cars wouldn't start. ...
Wha is that somebody comin this way. How on earth could anyone be out here? My suppressed thoughts of freezing to death in this Chyrsler surfaced for a second. I tried the door but it was frozen shut . I rolled down the window which only went down 3 inches and stuck. My lips puckered through the 3 inch opening and I tried yelling HELLO but it came out HELWOE.
The snow outlined spectre of a man slowly sauntered up and said "howdy".
Silence. I scooted out the other side of the car and got out and said "I think my transmission burned up so I was wondering if there was anywhere around here that I might find a gas station, bus station or a town or anything...um ...by the way I'm Jean Shepard" Silence.
"I'm Zeke"...
Thoughts of a killer on the road filled my mind during the awkward moments of frozen silence.
"Stayere" and Zeke turned and walked away.
In a frigid minute or two, I hear a distinct blum blum blum blum a farm tractor with a homemade plow emerges from the darkness.
Zeke had a chain on the Chrysler and was pulling us while I steered.
Two turns later and we are at the barn. Zeke called out with no more than a loud whisper "boyz, torch". Just then 3 young men were pullin two tanks, one silver and one gold while the third had a coil of something with what looked like a stick of metal incense slightly smoking.
A brilliant light emerged from beneath the Chrysler punctuated by a commotion among some cows and sheep deeper in the barn. In less time than it took to get to the barn, Zeke was done and turned the key. The engined purred, then he put it in gear. There was still a sound but it was something like alleluyalleluyalleluyalleluya.
How much do I owe you, I asked with relief and disbelief in my eyes.
"Nuthin, zonthe house" and with a salute type wave he and the boys headed back into the barn.
I protested saying "But its Christmas eve and I owe you..." but they were already out of sight.
Driving out I saw a sign I hadn't seen earlier. Zeke's Garage and Divine Church o Mary.
Back on the road the radio crackled back on after a year of silence with Christmas carols that matched the new sound of the transmission in pitch and rhythm.
Somehere near the Kentucky border the transmision sizzled with a fffffggggdamdamdamdamfffffffffff and the engine wailed wwwwwwooooaeeeaaaaaee ggg ggg ggg gug. dead.
The sudden quiet and reprieve from the harangueing profanities was heavenly, but deslolate as he!!.
Silence. Wind and whisling.
Where am I going to find help this time of night on Christmas eve. The only sign of civilization is a collapsed snow covered fence. No lights. No cars. I can't fix a doorknob, there's no sense even trying to look underneath the hood. Last year in the city the mechanic said he could find parts for this car but it could take up to a year. Something about it being discontinued after the first hundred cars wouldn't start. ...
Wha is that somebody comin this way. How on earth could anyone be out here? My suppressed thoughts of freezing to death in this Chyrsler surfaced for a second. I tried the door but it was frozen shut . I rolled down the window which only went down 3 inches and stuck. My lips puckered through the 3 inch opening and I tried yelling HELLO but it came out HELWOE.
The snow outlined spectre of a man slowly sauntered up and said "howdy".
Silence. I scooted out the other side of the car and got out and said "I think my transmission burned up so I was wondering if there was anywhere around here that I might find a gas station, bus station or a town or anything...um ...by the way I'm Jean Shepard" Silence.
"I'm Zeke"...
Thoughts of a killer on the road filled my mind during the awkward moments of frozen silence.
"Stayere" and Zeke turned and walked away.
In a frigid minute or two, I hear a distinct blum blum blum blum a farm tractor with a homemade plow emerges from the darkness.
Zeke had a chain on the Chrysler and was pulling us while I steered.
Two turns later and we are at the barn. Zeke called out with no more than a loud whisper "boyz, torch". Just then 3 young men were pullin two tanks, one silver and one gold while the third had a coil of something with what looked like a stick of metal incense slightly smoking.
A brilliant light emerged from beneath the Chrysler punctuated by a commotion among some cows and sheep deeper in the barn. In less time than it took to get to the barn, Zeke was done and turned the key. The engined purred, then he put it in gear. There was still a sound but it was something like alleluyalleluyalleluyalleluya.
How much do I owe you, I asked with relief and disbelief in my eyes.
"Nuthin, zonthe house" and with a salute type wave he and the boys headed back into the barn.
I protested saying "But its Christmas eve and I owe you..." but they were already out of sight.
Driving out I saw a sign I hadn't seen earlier. Zeke's Garage and Divine Church o Mary.
Back on the road the radio crackled back on after a year of silence with Christmas carols that matched the new sound of the transmission in pitch and rhythm.