How beautiful it all was. Tranquility wasn't large and was the size of most small towns. Tranquility was nestled deep in the heart of New Mexico and two hundred miles from Albuquerque. The sun always burned brightly over the town. The buildings, despite being designed in the late 60s, held up surprisingly while in the blistering heat. The buildings themselves had a retro charm to them. Retaining their original designs created almost half a century ago. It was one of the things that drew Mark to Tranquility in the first place. Fresh air, clean water and an abundance of hospitality he had not seen since New Orleans. As Markgazed aimlessly out the window he heard Al say something. I'm day dreaming again. Mark chided himself. Threatening himself in the seat, he glanced over to his friend.
"I'm sorry, I didn't hear you. Can you repeat it?" Mark asked softly.
Al blew a few loose strands of hair away from his eyes. "So, whatcha planning on getting," Al repeated.
Mark wasn't sure, something that worked would be favorable. He shrugged.
"Something with four wheels and an engine," he wryly jokes.
Al chuckled bringing the car to a stop at the stop light. The car's engine rumbled, as they waited for the right to change green.
"Anything in mind or ya just happy with four wheels and an engine?"
Mark recalled his dream car. A Dodge Charger preferably from the late 60s to the early 70s. Something he doubted would be waiting at the used car lot.
"A Dodge Charger would be nice. Prime american muscle," Mark replied, just as the light shifted green.
Al nodded in amusement. "Good car," he paused, as they began driving again. "Any particular model in mind?"
Mark shook his head. "Late 60s to early 70s. Anything but the new type, those ones make my stomach turn by just looking at them," he explained.
"They are an eyesore," Al's smile broadened, letting out a short laugh.
Ahead Al could see the car lot coming into view. In front just underneath the sign was a clown twirling a sign. Al grimaced at the idea of being in the heat covered and all that makeup. It was beginning to melt off of the poor clown. Poor bastard. he thought. Slowing the car, Al turned into the used car lot. Mark caught a glimpse of the sign the unfortunate clown twirled. Bolivia's auto resale. Mark read. Before he knew it they were parked near the entrance of the building. A quick glance showed him rows upon rows of cars, waiting to be sold. Mark and Al exited the car. The
sounds of heavy footsteps approaching caught their attention. They were met (more like confronted, Mark felt) by the lot's owner.
The tall dark-skinned man clasped Mark's hand, giving it a few good pumps. He wore a bright floral Hawaiian shirt and a pair of dark sunglasses. An instant smile (just add money) had taken the place of what used to be a disapproving frown.
"Gentleman, welcome to Bolivia's auto resale, "Bolivia said, casting a quick look at the car. "Are ya selling or are you buying?"
"Buying," Mark replied softly. "Something with four wheels and an engine."
"Then you came to the right place," Bolivia threw his arm over Mark's shoulder. "Uncle Bobby will set you up with the perfect ride."
Bobby began walking, with Mark alongside. Al walked after them, locking the car as he went.
They first stopped at a 2004, silver pontiac grand prix. It was recently washed and detailed. Not bad. Mark mused as he circled the car a few times. Bobby brought his hand down onto the roof, quickly pulling back from the heat.
"Jesus, that's hot," he grimaced, before quickly smiling again as if nothing happened. "This baby's got ten thousand miles on her, and hasn't given any of its owners of lick of trouble. As you see I've even had her washed."
"My mother had one of these," Mark reminisced. "I hated it. A bit too sleek. Do you have anything… older?"
Bobby's face lit up. "Yes I do…" he trailed off looking past Brian.
Mark looked, seeing the clown fumbling with the sign but continuing to twirl it.
"Manny!" Bobby shouted to the garage.
Mark winced, covering his left ear. Al jerked back bumping into the car behind him. Moments later a shorter man in mechanics garb stepped out from the garage. He was almost covered head to toe in grease and little splashes of engine fluid.
"What?" Manny called, slightly annoyed.
"Get your cousin out of that damn clown suit! He's having heat stroke again, scares the white folks!"
Mark knew exactly what that last bit meant but decided to ignore it. Manny silently ran up to his cousin and began pulling him towards the shop. The man in the clown suit barely holding on to the sign. Once they were inside, Bobby turned his attention back to his customers.
"Sorry about that," he apologized. "The heat isn't kind to everyone."
"No problem," Al said, quickly dissolving the tension. "My friend still needs a car after all."
"Of course, I've got just the ride for you."
The car in question was an old late 60s volkswagen beetle. The paint had seen better days, and the seating wasn't fairing as well either. Mark opened the door, getting a better look inside. Could be worse. He mused. The seats could be swapped and the paint could be redone. Moving to the back, Mark swung the rear door open. There rested the engine. Recently cleaned from the looks of it.
"How much?" Mark inquired, checking the oil.
Bobby closed the driver side door. The older man folded his hands into his pockets and looked over the vehicle for a few heart beats.
"Well, uh, considering the classic nature of the vehicle, the timeless lineage and custom paint job…"
"But the paints faded," Mark slid the oil stick back into place.
"Well it's custom faded," Bobby replied, dismissive of the flaw.
"Custom faded…"
Bobby nodded. "Four grand. Hell I'll even throw in an air freshener for free," he proudly smiled.
Mark stood, catching something in the reflection of the rear window as he dusted his legs off. Turning around he saw a 1971 red dodge charger. Al saw it too and so did Bobby. Mark moved along the driver side of the charger, his hands sliding under the door handle. A slight pull and the door opened.
"She looks brand new!" Al said in awe.
Mark was already behind the steering wheel, getting a feel for her. It was brand new! There was not a speck of dust anywhere on the dash. Even the keys were in the ignition, much to Mark's surprise. The only oddity to his eye was a face-like symbol on the steering wheel. It was odd, unlike anything he'd ever seen before. Custom. He figured.
Bobby was bewildered by the vehicle. He could remember a lot of cars, but this one however escaped him. This car, where did it come from? He then turned to the garage.
"Manny! This car, check it out!" Bobby bellowed.
Manny stepped out, getting a look. "It's most likely from last week's trade. The big semi trailer we got," he explained.
Bobby nodded, chalking it up to a lapse in memory. Mark peeked his head out the door opening towards Bobby.
"How much?"
"Eight grand." He responded without hesitation.
Mark winced. "I've only got five," he stepped out of the dodge, closing the door.
"Such a shame, it's beautiful," Al lamented.
"I'm sure we can find something better. I've got plenty with CD players," Bobby replied, faining optimism.
A cd player would be nice. Mark thought, as he toed away from the dodge. They weren't even a few steps away when a loud screeching sound began echoing throughout the parking lot. The three jumped in fright, covering their ears as they looked around for the source.
"The hell is that?" Al said, partially drowned out by noise.
"How am I supposed to know!" Mark retorted.
Bobby focused on trying to figure out where the noise was coming from to pay much attention to the bickering. He quickly noticed windows on the cars were beginning to crack. His eyes widened in terror as he grabbed both Mark and Al and dragged them to the ground.
"DOWN!"
Without warning glass went flying everywhere. Exploding into tiny pieces I sent every which way. The three men kept their faces in the asphalt, as tiny shards bounced off them. It ended as quickly as it started. The shriek died out only a heartbeat later. Slowly the three began pulling themselves up. Glass bits falling off them as they did so. Bobby looked around, every car's window had been completely blown out… all except for the Dodge Charger.
"Holly shit!" Al gasped.
"Five thousand for the charger, take it and leave!" Bobby said in panic.
Mark dug through his wallet pulling out the five grand. Bobby took it and marched off. Mark looked to Al, confused.
"What the hell just happened?"
"I don't know," Al responded. "Come on, let's get out of here before he changes his mind."
"No need to tell me twice," Mark nodded, moving over to the Dodge Charger.
Sliding behind the wheel, he turned the key. The engine rumbled to life. Shifting the car into drive he pulled outta the lot and towards home.
End Chapter