Chapter 12: On the Road

The men had finished out their studio jobs and collected their final paychecks. Downstairs, the car was loaded with all their worldly possessions, including the old guitar—a parting gift from Tyrone. They had purchased a set of serviceable used tires. The "spare" was fully inflated and the gas tank was full. The time had come to leave the little apartment that had been their home.

Sporting his sweatband, John-Spock took the driver's seat and Wayne-Spock settled in beside him. They had carefully planned their itinerary and decided that it would be worth the risk for John to share in the driving. By doing so, they could keep moving and thus save money on meals and motel rooms. If stopped by law enforcement, John could present Wayne's license and simply say that he had cut his hair and shaved, which was true.

Within minutes, John had the Woodie sailing down the Ventura Freeway at sixty-five miles per hour. After they successfully changed to the Foothill Freeway, the Los Angeles basin shrank out of sight as they drove up into the hills, still brown from a dry summer. Then, Interstate 15. Little by little the landscape changed until they found themselves in the beautiful Mojave Desert. More miles flew by. At Barstow, John navigated the exchange to Interstate 40. Soon after, they stopped for gas, stretched their legs, and ate the sandwiches and fruit they had prepared the night before. They were "making good time".

When John got back behind the wheel, T'Naisa changed to the front passenger seat. Now that her pregnancy was advancing, she sometimes got sleepy after a meal, so she closed her eyes and let her mind drift. What would they find in Philadelphia? What would life be like there, with the two Spocks working construction jobs? Though Wayne's hair had lengthened, any stiff breeze might reveal his Vulcan ears. John's hair was still short from his stunt work. Even indoors, he would have to wear sweatbands or knitted hats. What would T'Mara's relatives think of that?

Gradually T'Naisa slipped into an unpleasant dream in which she was on an out-of-control amusement park ride.

"T'Naisa," came T'Mara's voice behind her. "Did you hear what I said?"

She opened her eyes in time to see a "Welcome to Arizona" sign flash by. Something seemed wrong. Fighting the cobwebs in her mind, she noticed John's hands tightly gripping the steering wheel…as if he were angry. The car seemed to be going too fast. They were speeding past an off-ramp for Lake Havasu City when she remembered. John had lived in nearby Phoenix when his first wife and their daughter were murdered. Was the past returning to haunt him? As the car sped along, there was no room in her heart for jealousy over those old feelings

She gently touched his upper arm and said, "Hey, slow down. We don't want the police chasing us."

His eyes remained riveted on the road ahead.

Wayne leaned forward and took note of the unsteady speedometer needle closing toward eighty. Clearing his throat, he spoke in a commanding voice. "Spock!"

To the relief of everyone present, the car slowed to a safer, more legal speed. A short time later John stopped along the highway and moved into the backseat with his wife. Wayne drove on, and just outside Flagstaff they began seeing signs of jackrabbits. Literally, signs.

T'Mara was the first to notice. "Look at that!" she exclaimed, pointing to a little placard bearing a long-eared rabbit with numbers printed underneath.

"A jackrabbit," Wayne remarked, "though it is an ill-conceived name, for Lepus californicus is actually a hare. Its young are born above ground, fully prepared to flee from predators."

"Well," T'Mara said, "hare or no hare, I think they're cute. And there's another one with a different number. What can it mean?"

"I believe they are mileage markers," Wayne decided, "descending in order as we approach the business they are meant to advertise."

Locating the signs became something of a game, for unlike the occasional series of Burma-Shave advertisements, the jackrabbits appeared in ever-increasing regularity and in many strange places, including a mountaintop or two.

At last, as they were approaching Joseph City, a large jackrabbit-bedecked sign read, "Stop and Visit the Jackrabbit Trading Post. Next Exit."

"Mystery solved," Wayne said.

"Oh, let's go see it!" T"Naisa urged from the backseat. "Besides, I'm hungry."

T'Mara seconded the motion, and Wayne headed for the off-ramp.

oooo

Late that same night, Wayne had his window cracked open, allowing the crisp desert air to hit his face as he drove on. He took a quick glance over at the passenger seat. T'Mara's head leaned against the window. Her eyes were closed and her breathing was slow. Checking his rear view mirror, he saw T'Naisa with her head lying against her husband, looking very content while she slept. Though John's eyes were closed, Wayne suspected that he was only resting and not completely asleep.

He focused once more on the lanes of traffic. Suddenly the Falcon sputtered and began to lose so much power that he barely got it safely to the shoulder. Then the engine stalled, and though he cranked the ignition switch repeatedly, it refused to start.

Alerted to the problem, John leaned forward and asked, "Has the car malfunctioned?"

"Indeed it has. Come. As they say, let us 'check under the hood'." Wayne quietly retrieved a flashlight from the glove box and they both eased out of the car, hoping not to disturb their wives.

In the backseat, T'Naisa rose from her sleep and tapped T'Mara's shoulder. "Are you awake? We've stopped alongside the road. John and Wayne have the hood up." She rolled down the window and heard the men discussing mechanical issues. "They don't seem to know what's wrong."

Yawning, T'Mara watched the men walk to a grassy area beside the highway and debate over what might have caused the problem. She turned around and faced T'Naisa. "Hey, I know a thing or two about these old cars. Want to take a look?"

T'Naisa glanced back over at the men. Their voices were on the rise and she heard John say, "Did I not advise you to have the carburetor checked?"

Wayne folded his arms across his chest. "You are well aware of the prohibitive cost to have the carburetor rebuilt. I fixed what I could and replaced the air filter. When you replaced the worn spark plug wires, am I to assume that you also replaced the plugs?"

John glared at him. "It was only logical to do so."

"Yes, let's give it a try," T'Naisa said, exiting the traffic side of the vehicle. "Those two can be so very…"

"So very human?" T'Mara finished as she joined her. Finding the flashlight on the front fender, she shone it over the antique engine. It did not take her long to notice something amiss. Could it be as simple as a loose sparkplug wire? Reaching over, she secured the part in question.

"That should help," she said. "Let's get back in and give it a try."

A moment later, T'Mara gently pressed the gas pedal and turned the key. The car immediately started and ran as smoothly as could be expected. Wayne and John dropped their discussion and came over to the engine to investigate. After lowering the hood, they entered the Woodie.

As T'Mara scooted over to the passenger side, she placed her hand on Wayne's arm. "So Mr. Fix-It, can you guess who repaired the car?"

"Yes, T'Mara, I have surmised that you and T'Naisa repaired it. And may I ask how you managed that feat?"

Knowing that John had replaced the spark plug wires, T'Mara decided it best to keep quiet. With a wink at T'Naisa she merely said, "Oh, we ladies have to keep a few secrets, don't we?"

Wayne's eyebrow quirked. Grabbing the steering wheel, he released the hand brake and headed back onto Interstate 40.