6 - You're History

Hudson set his things by the door, waiting for the nurse to come in and discharge him, so he could head down to the front doors and find Smokey. It was nearing 9:30. He tapped his foot, sitting on the edge of the bed, dressed in his rolled-up blue jeans, and deep blue leather jacket. He was ready to go now…Anytime now. He could hear footsteps down the hall, and someone opened the door. It was Glenn. He seemed a bit anxious but entered the room when Hudson granted him permission to.

"Hey champ," said the manager, standing in front of him.

"Are you picking me up instead of Smokey?"

"Yeah, I was working at the offices over here and called Smokey up to tell him it'd be easier if I picked you up," Glenn said kindly.

"Oh," Hudson said disappointedly. "Alright…"

"Oh! And! I just wanted to ask if you would be able to come into my office and meet sometime soon." Glenn made it sound like he forgot that information, and had to search for it, but in reality, he was just waiting to ask Hudson to come into the office, and he had rehearsed it all the way to the hospital.

Hudson paused but nodded anyway. "Alright. I'll come by tomorrow, and say hi to all the others while I'm at it."

Glenn took a deep breath and nodded, hands on his hips. "That will have to work. 1 PM sound alright?"

"Yes, sir."

"Good," Glenn huffed and straightened out his suit. "Let's get going then."

Hudson shrugged but perked up when the nurse walked past Glenn and into the room. Hudson signed the last of the papers, and then he stood.

"Let's go, Glenn, out of this terrible place," he said, grabbing his things and running for the door. Glenn walked him out to the car and drove him home. Hudson felt so relieved to finally be back home. He couldn't wait to go back and see his friends the next day.

Morning broke, and Hudson was up and out of bed as quickly as he could, with his thin, sore body. He had to be careful when he walked and had to take everything very slowly. But he managed to make breakfast, and get out the door in time for his meeting with Glenn. He hopped in his Mustard-yellow '53 Chevy and headed out on the road. The Hornet was rolled into his garage, but he preferred to drive his Chevy around town. The Hornet was for racing. He probably wasn't allowed to drive. He didn't think about that until he was almost halfway there. He shrugged. It was too late to go back, might as well keep going. Hudson turned up the radio and smirked. Finally, out of that disgusting hospital. Freedom had never felt so good. Sure, he could barely walk, but that didn't affect him when he was behind the wheel. He sped through town, towards his destination. When he finally reached the racing headquarters, he shut off the engine and slowly pulled himself out of the car, heading for the front door. He hoped Smokey would be there. It had been a day or two since he had seen his mentor. He already missed him. Hudson pulled the door open and headed into the air conditioned headquarters. It was awfully quiet. Only a few racers and managers looked up from the waiting area, and they all seemed quiet. All eyes were on Hudson, but there was no welcome. Hudson had just survived what would probably be the biggest injury of his life, and everyone acted as if he had never existed. He wasn't even the Fabulous Hudson Hornet. He didn't even feel famous. He limped to the front desk, and leaned on it, looking down at the young woman.

"I'm here to see Mr. Glenn Sanders," he said softly, "my manager."

The woman looked at him and quickly looked back down. "He's in his office. He will see you now," she said, keeping her gaze fixed upon the papers in her lap. Hudson raised an eyebrow. "Alright then," he turned and headed down the hall.

He knocked on Glenn's door and then came in slowly. Glenn turned around and smiled. "Hudson! Good to see you, kid. Take a seat."

"Alright sir," Hudson said, reaching for a seat…

"…close the door, will you?"

"Yes, sir." Hudson closed the door behind him.

Glenn took a deep breath. "So I'm sure you know we're here to talk about your racing career, since, well, you've had an accident and all."

"Yes sir," he replied again, fiddling with his hand under the desk. "The doctors told me about a month, then I can start gettin' in a car again. I-if you need the papers, I've got them all."

Glenn held up a hand. "About that, Hudson," he paused, gathering his words before he spoke. "We've actually got a new rookie on the hook."

"To race while I'm out this month?"

Glenn bit his lip… "Not necessarily, Hudson." He stood up, walking over to adjust a figurine on his bookshelf. "You see, Hudson, this new guy, he's got all the training, and one of our newest racing cars. It's one of the newest models that we've modified. It's faster and more stable."

"Okay…?" Hudson was puzzled.

Glenn continued. "Hudson, the public, they love the celebrities like you, winning all the trophies, handsome, charming, caring, and sociable…" Glenn paused, then continued to speak. "But the fame, it can only last so long. Sooner or later, the fans want the latest and greatest. They want a new face. They want a new racer. Your streak can only last for so long. Sooner or later they're going to move on, and find something else to entertain them, or someone else to cheer for… That's great, but if we're not the company that is going to give them something new, another company will. And that's lost business for us."

Hudson didn't know what to say, as he processed what the manager was telling him.

Glenn continued to speak. "The Fabulous Hudson Hornet was quite the show, but you're never going to be as famous after your wreck, Hudson. People haven't been hearing anything about you, so they're just moving on."

"But I can come back, make a big deal about it and make a big appearance."

"Then let's go back to the concept about a new face, again. Even if you do come back, the public has already seen you. They want something new. They want more. I just do not think you are going to give this company what it needs to support itself."

"So I'm being replaced, sir?" Hudson's voice grew more serious, and deeper.

"Well, I mean…"

"No, that's what you're saying," Hudson's voice raised. "You're saying I'm replaced, aren't you? I'm done, aren't I?!" He yelled, standing up out of his chair.

"I'm sorry Hudson, we've already hired the new kid, you're done, Hudson."

"So all that, everything I've done," he said, tears forming in his gentle blue eyes, "all that work, and all that perseverance to recover and race again, it was all for nothing then?! Is that all? I'm replaced, just like that, the snap of a finger, I'm done. I'm NOTHING to you!"

"Now, Hudson! Lower your voice!"

"I'm done," he said, shaking his head and gathering your things. "I'm absolutely done."

"You were already done," Glenn said, frustrated at Hudson's attitude. "You're history."

Glenn pressed the button that opened the office door, and extended a hand to the door, gesturing for Hudson to leave. The young racer pushed the door open and stormed out. He knew it now. Everyone in the office knew about the new rookie. They knew he was getting replaced. He stormed through the waiting room, and past the people. "You all knew," he hissed, before closing the door behind him. The words rang in his head, all the way home. You're history.

You're history.

Hudson went home in a rage. Tears poured from his eyes, as the words of Glenn stung in his heart. He was shattering. His whole life was racing. His whole life had just been pulled out from under his feet. He was nothing. What was he, without racing? Hudson didn't know.

An idea popped into his head, and he acted quickly, out of anger and grief. He pulled a suitcase and a few crates from the garage. He packed his closet belongings, the newspapers, the trophies, his tools, and photographs.

He looked at the yellow Chevy and the blue Hornet next to it. He was lucky enough that the company had replaced his car before they got rid of him. Hudson thought for a few moments…As quickly as he could, Hudson grabbed a rock and a piece of sandpaper. He rubbed it across the sides of the car, scratching off the famous yellow and white words as best he could. He scratched at it in frustration, as he thought about what just happened. Tears poured from his eyes as he scratched harder and harder. He sprayed paint on it, sanded, scratched, and did whatever he could to get it off. He sanded it so hard that sweat dripped down his forehead, and blood dripped from his knuckles. His heart was broken. His body was pulsing in pain, but Hudson didn't even care. He was so distraught. The brand new car in front of him was once again broken and ruined, just like Hudson.

You're history…. The words rang in his head as he cried.

He'd be history, that's for sure. He threw the rock at the car, then loaded all his things into the back. He obtained the telephone number of the owner of his rental place, then dialed the number, as he sat against the wall in the dark garage. He needed to notify the man about the apartment. It would be vacant by the morning. Hudson was done here. The words bounced around in his head, and he tried to hold back the tears before the man answered the telephone, but it was too difficult. Hudson knew the words would haunt him for years to come.

You're history.