Disclaimer: I do not own JAG, Harmon Rabb, Sarah MacKenzie, et al. I've earned nothing but the pleasure of the writing, and the possibility of some nice feedback.

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The Corvette Song

"I need to stop off at the Quicksack for some gas," Harm said to Mac as he pulled away from the curb. "I would have gotten it before I picked you up, but I didn't want to be late." He grinned at her.

She grinned back. "Wise choice, Sailor." Mac decided to check out the radio and reached toward it. Despite the fact that Harm's Corvette was practically a classic, he'd installed a modern sound system. "Let's see what you've got programmed in here," she said, pressing button number one.

Strains of the Golden Cockerel Suite by Rimsky-Korsakov floated through the car. "I didn't know you liked classical, Harm."

"It doesn't distract me when I'm trying to think," he replied.

Mac pushed button two.

"Albert Bell cracks a pop-fly out to center. Second baseman Roberto Alomar backs up as center fielder Timo Perez rushes forward... and Perez makes the catch..."

"Baseball?" Mac asked, then giggled.

"Hey! I like to keep up with sports. It might help me with a case."

"Right," she said, pushing button three.

"All your past sins
Are since past
You should be sleeping
It's all right
Sleep tight
Through the long night with me...
With me..."

Mac cocked her head. "Billy Joel," she said. "Oldies. That's not such a surprise." She pushed button four.

"In other news, French President Jacques Chirac, reading a joint declaration in the presence of visiting Russian President Vladimir Putin, said Iraq's weapons capability must be neutralized as quickly as possible but that waging war to achieve the objective should be considered only as a last resort..."

Harm pulled into the Quicksack's driveway and pulled up next to a pump.

"News," Mac said. "No surprise there either. So what does Harm have programmed into the last slot?"

Harm shrugged as he exited the car. "I'm going to go give them my card."

"I stopped off at the Quicksack for some beer and cigarettes...
This old man took my money as he stared at my Corvette..."

Mac laughed at the country music and, as he walked away, Harm listened closely to see what song was playing. George Jones, he thought. A classic.

Mac turned it up a little and got out of the car. She moved around to the driver's side, removed the gas cap, and put the nozzle into the opening. She looked toward the store while she waited for the gas pump to reset.

Harm stepped inside the store and handed his gas card to the man behind the counter. "Pump three, please." He followed the man's gaze out to his car.

"I had one just like her son, in 1963. Till the man down at the bank took her from me." He clicked on the pump and the two men watched as Mac began pumping gas. "I had one that was hotter than a two dollar pistol. She was the fastest thing around; long and lean every young man's dream. She turned every head in town. She was built and fun to handle, son. I'm glad that you walked in. She reminds me of the one I loved back then."

Evidently, the tank was full. Mac put the nozzle back onto the pump and screwed the gas cap back on. She moved back around the car and got in.

Harm handed him the keys and said, "Here, take her for a spin."

The old man scratched his head, and then he looked at Harm and grinned. He said, "Son, you just don't understand. It ain't the car I want. It's the brunette is your 'Vette that turns me on."

Had one that was hotter than a two dollar pistol.
She was the fastest thing around; long and lean every young man's dream.
She turned every head in town.
She was built and fun to handle, son.
I'm glad that you walked in.
She reminds me of the one I loved back then.
Reminds me of the one I loved back then...

~*~ Fin ~*~