46~
Hudson watched life as he knew it change more in the passage of time. He had feared the Interstate would bring questionable change and was disappointed to see it become realized. Flo had imagined more folks would flock to her Café when actually less were in order, and less seemed to come every month. Hudson began having fewer patients at his clinic. Ramone had fewer customers for a new paint job. Mr. Springson had fewer lodgers at the Cozy Cone. Even the promise of the motel's famous High Performance Float became less tempting. Hudson witnessed what he felt to be the beginning of the end when he saw the first shop on Main Street close. Not long after, Vaughn Randolph Brakewell (the Third), baron of The Golden Grille, packed up and left also. Although the town doctor hadn't formed any amicable relations with the Duesenberg, he had remained one of the last ties to his wife, and he never would forget that look of awe in her bright green eyes the day she had received her gold-plated hood ornament. Now he found it was easier to look away when the empty storefront confronted him.
It was Grace who voted for a different sort of change, for herself and for her father if he was willing. The fact he had fewer folk calling at his business seemed to be as good of a time as any for the opportunity. It was one day when she came home from the V8 that she voiced her thoughts.
"I've been thinking about something that maybe you'll want to participate in, Daddy." she began. He turned his attention away from that day's copy of the newspaper, giving his daughter an encouraging look which she took to continue. "So much has happened since Mama died and a lot of that has been upsetting. We've not had a chance to go anywhere other than our weekend drives around the county and… I was just wondering, do you think you'd like to join me on a trip to see Mama's folks? I don't know my grandparents much at all aside from that visit they took here and I'd like to learn more about them. They're all I have of her still alive, and I don't want to miss out on knowing them. I was thinking of going on my own if you didn't want to go."
Something akin to horror wrapped it's tendrils about the older car's heart. The idea of letting his daughter go on a road trip, following the same route as her mother, his wife, did was nearly unthinkable when the undeniable truth was known that she'd drive over the same stretch of blacktop Cornelia had her fateful accident on. So the Porsche and Bentley were locked up, but there could be more like them. His trust in any other travelers had waned considerably, especially those that travelled amid his only remaining child. The words came before he even had time to think.
"If you're going, I'm going with you." he told her, firm. Any other Grace's age may have argued; after all, she was an adult and such a reaction could have even been seen as distrusting or too clingy, but the young Cadillac hadn't that mentality. She understood her father's vehemence on this. She understood his fear. She knew his immediate thought would be her going on her own, promising a return and it never happening as it should have on that long ago day in 1959 with her mother. And, honestly, she was glad to have his company.
"I'm glad you agree to come. I was hoping you'd say that." she told him, softly smiling.
. . . .
Hudson closed down the Ornament Valley Clinic for a full week and left instructions with the tow truck Mater that if anyone was in straits or simply needed their sparkplugs changed, to tow them to Torqueville, the next closest town in the county. Flo wished Grace the best time with her relatives and assured her the Café would be okay without her, although her combined help made it the best. By the time the next day rolled around, the pair was on the road as the sunrise fell upon the desert landscape, tinting the mountains red.
Unknowingly they retraced the path of Cornelia on her last trip and silently drove past the spot where the jade-green Cadillac had come to rest after being thrown across the asphalt too many painful times. Grace was unsure of where exactly this had happened and although Hudson knew he did not yet tell her. Maybe on the way home he would. There was no sense ruining the vacation before it even began.
They stayed at the Thunderbird Motel the same as Cornelia had – maybe even in the same room. Neither could ever know for sure. They drove all that day and arrived at their destination late afternoon, early evening. Radiator Springs now lay twelve hours behind them. They lodged at the available hotel in the small city and faced their destination the next day, the objective scrawled out lightly on an address Grace had found with her mother's possessions.
Slowly, slowly a seafoam-green Cadillac trailed very closely by a dark blue Hudson drove up the street leading to one home in particular, a clapboard residence painted white and trimmed in front by a dry looking lawn. Grace felt nervous and even unsure if this motive had been right, but had no choice now. They both drew to a halt before the home before the younger car took a deep breath and said, "I hope this was the right thing." Not waiting for her father's response, she came up the door and knocked twice. From where he sat, Hudson relived the day in 1953 when his then-fiancée had been in the same place. She too had been nervous to face her imposing father's words. He had waited politely to the side until the time had become right for him to join her. The parallel was uncanny.
The door swung open after a fashion, but it wasn't the 1930's car who opened the door. Instead it was his wife. Only a flicker of confusion passed her gaze before a welcoming smile decorated her face. "Grace! Is it really you I'm seeing?" she asked.
The younger Cadillac couldn't help but return her grandmother's sweet smile. "It really is." she said.
"I can't believe you came all this way! If I had known you were coming, I would have spruced up the place a little more. All I was expecting was the plumber today! I just am so glad to see you, honey!" she exclaimed before giving her granddaughter a kiss. When she looked up again her eyes landed on the silent blue car.
"Well, if it isn't the old racecar too. What are you doing waiting out there? Come in, please." she told him. He politely dipped his hood to her and answered just as kindly, "Thank you, Mary Ellen. I hope we didn't come at a bad time."
The pale yellow Cadillac smiled softly and answered, "So much has changed, as we all know. There's no bad time for me to have the company of the ones my sweet daughter loved."
. . . .
Grace was assisting Mary Ellen later that day when the kitchen door swung open and the long form of a golden car with black fenders pulled through, carrying his thoughts in a one sided conversation.
"I went down to the office of that rusty-bumpered idiot and he wasn't there. I told you that Italian plumber was shifty, Mary Ellen. His secretary just sits there and asks if I want to leave a message for him. I said I sure as hell did and that it should say 'You're the dumbest sucker I've ever thrown my money at,' but I doubt she wrote it. Too bad. The dick ought to see what paying folks think about him. She says he's probably out on a 'really important' job, but I imagine that isn't it at all. He's probably at some shack sucking on wine and telling romantic tales about Brussels."
"Brussels is in Belgium, not Italy, Granddad." Grace pointed out. Charles was so used to answering his wife that he didn't even think about it for a moment. And then it hit him.
"'Granddad'?! I had no idea my little girl was paying a visit!" he exclaimed. Grace pulled out from the other side of Mary Ellen and faced the big '30s car with a funny smile.
"I came today," she informed and then gave him a kiss on the side of one of his ebony front fenders. Charles may have been coarse but still had some standards around his daughter and now his only remaining granddaughter and so was honestly regretful.
"I had no idea you were here, honey. I would have watched my language if I had known." he apologized.
"You should be sorry, Charley. I don't enjoy hearing your ranting all the time also you know." Mary Ellen chimed in with a smile to her husband.
"Alright fine. I'll try to be civil the rest of the evening." he told her.
"Let's see that you can be. First test is that you're going to clean the sink since the 'rusty-bumpered' plumber didn't come. It's not going to fix itself." she dictated.
Charles glared. "Do I look like I know two bits about pipes and P-traps to you? I'm a Cadillac with gold metal-flake paint for Chrysler's sake! Do you think I want that cloggy shit all over my chrome rims? Do I have 'Mobile Plumbing' written across my trunk with a phone number?"
Grace found herself unable to not laugh. Even though she felt guilty for deriving humor from coarse behavior, she couldn't help herself. Her grandfather was funny. Mary Ellen rolled her eyes.
"I thought you said you were going to try to be civil for our granddaughter, Charles." she said. He narrowed his eyes at this realization.
"I did say that, didn't I?" he grumbled.
When Charles got the sink mess out of the way and whatever else he found he needed to do done in the coming day, on his free moment he pulled Hudson aside and said, "I've got a plan for me and you, friend."
The indigo car was rather questioning of what his undeniably crass father-in-law would say but politeness was his first response to anything.
"I'd like to hear," he offered, even though he was unsure if he actually did.
Charles smiled in a conspiratorial way and replied, "Why don't you join me at the Cabaret?"
Confusion found Hudson. "I don't follow. What's the Cabaret?" he asked.
. . . .
"This is the Cabaret!" the golden Cadillac announced as he cruised elegantly into the shadowy bar. Hudson was instantly nonplussed. It wasn't just the bar – it was the patrons in it. The women sitting together at one table looked up at their arrival with hungry eyes, with expressions whose meaning he was very aware of. He overheard their whisperings which confirmed it.
"That blue one. Isn't he a looker? I've not seen such a sleek and classy chassis in years."
"He certainly makes my motor purr."
Hudson looked over at his totally at ease father-in-law. "I'm not really the bar type, to be honest." he tried.
Charles rolled his eyes and said, "You never know if you're truly a bar type till you try it. Come on over and meet Harlan now. He's a man's man, aren't you Harlan?" They silver Cadillac came to his friend from across the bar and answered, "I try my best to be, friend. Who's the company tonight?"
"This is my son-in-law, Hudson." Charles answered for the blue car. Harlan nodded his acknowledgment to a new arrival and then replied, "I'm sorry about your wife, Hud. She was a good lady."
"She certainly was," he answered. Charles nodded.
"The best there was. Tonight isn't a time to dwell in depression though. Get me either a vodka or a whiskey now, friend. Whatever comes first, I'll gladly take."
"On the rocks?" the tender asked.
"Well, I sure as hell don't want warm booze." Charles scoffed. Harlan turned to Hudson.
"And what do you want, pal?" he asked.
"Nothing. I'm not a drinker." he answered. Charles chuckled.
"You mean you've never drank or you can't hold your alcohol?" he asked. "Do you get three sheets to the wind after just one glass?"
Hudson shrugged and answered politely, "I'm just not fond of it all that much."
"Huh," Charles grunted, and tipped back a quarter of his whiskey before they settled at a table. When he set the glass down he said, "I've enjoyed the liquor ever since I was a young buck. Got my first drink when I was dating this woman and never fell out of love with the flavor or the after-effect. Liquor can do wonders to warm the engine on those cold winter days and liquor also does wonders when it comes to engaging with a woman. Those aren't just fiddly fireworks you get with booze – you get damned explosions, lemme tell ya."
Hudson shifted uncomfortably at this personal news and was about ready to open his mouth to change the subject when Charles cut him off.
"If you have a glass or 4 of the good stuff and then have some loving with a woman, you don't just hit the ceiling. You go to damned space and orbit with the comets. About thirteen years ago, I picked up this girl. She was another Cadillac, if I remember right. I have a very certain fondness for my type. Anyway, I have my drinks and she comes up and asks if I was looking for a good time. Hell yeah, I always was. I wouldn't say no to that when a gorgeous Caddy asked me. She probably saw me as some pretty fine stock, if you get my drift."
Hudson cleared his throat uneasily. Charles noticed.
"You need a drink, friend. The story is a whole lot better with one. Harlan! Get my son-in-law a vodka and tonic. And yeah, on the rocks." he called out to the tender before returning to his story.
"So, this woman wins me over and the moment I finish my drink we find ourselves in this hostel I was very fond of frequenting for those purposes. Discreet, unknown and unassuming. The best."
Harlan deposited the asked for to Hudson who eyed it with disinterest. Would drinking it actually make the horrible story his father-in-law was telling better? He rather doubted it.
"Drink up, kid. No one makes a vodka and tonic like Harlan. Anyhow! This babe was an absolute delight. She didn't even want all of the 'extras,' all she wanted was to get down to business. Given I was still an older car than her, this was pretty damned thrilling. I gave her my best, let me tell you. I may be impotent when it comes to not ever having another child but I'm no floppy noodle either. Mister Charles Eldorado is not a milksop when it comes to that talent. I need a refill, Harlan!" he stated, summoning the silver car once more. Once he came and left yet again, Charles tipped back another tenth of his whiskey. Despite being a fellow male, Hudson was disturbed by his father-in-law's deep desire to share so much and eventually partook of his vodka and tonic. Maybe he'd find the tale easier to cope with it after all.
Charles smiled cunningly and went on, "It's honestly a good thing I went as sterile as a damned rubber glove after my sweet daughter was born, because if I hadn't there'd be way too many telling reminders of my forays. I'm not exactly an inconspicuous car and if the population of Cadillacs went up in my town, all suspicions would point to me. I'm infamous, as the ladies say. That's how I got the nickname of 'Mr. Helldorado.' But, back to my story, this girl was first rate. She would have been without me having 5 drinks before that, but she was a thousand times more amazing after. I think I had to pay a fine to the hostel after that…. if I remember right I believe I broke the nightstand or something." He took another swig of his drink.
"Yeah, it was the nightstand. I hit it with my bumper when I dismounted that fine pony."
Hudson straightened up and interjected, "Excuse me; I think I need another drink."
Charles waved him down and answered, "Don't worry about it. Harlan will get one for you, WON'T YOU HARLAN?!" he yelled out. The tender materialized instantly and did as asked, topping off the Cadillac's as well. "Thanks a bunch, brother. But, as I was saying, I broke the nightstand. It crunched in on the side because it was made out of some cheap shit wood product. They made me pay for the garbage simply because I had a good time. I thought that was wrong but didn't argue. I wanted to stay on good terms with the innkeeper because I enjoyed that place a lot for my purposes. After that I just made sure I wasn't in front of any furniture. Easy solution." he told nonchalantly.
Hudson wasn't enjoying the story any more, but the drink assisted him in being sensible in talk. "I'm assuming that was just one little time you… went astray?" he offered.
Charles laughed. "One time out of many, son. I didn't get the title of Mr. Helldorado for simply going astray a few times."
"Oh," Hudson answered. Charles pulled his infamously cunning smile again.
"I have dozens of stories to tell you."
