An ‘Almost’ Experience
Kait Burton
The seat beneath him rattled with vibrations from the engine. The old truck rumbled a slow growl and the comforting smell of burning gasoline filled his nose. Both hands on the wheel, he fought to keep his eyes open. The headlights of the truck illuminated the road ahead. In the dim grey half-light of early morning, he glanced at his brother sleeping in the passenger seat. His partner in crime, life, and business let out an elegant snore. Benny smiled, it was almost a shame he’d have to wake Autry up for his turn to drive soon.
The pair had left Foil a little after five o’clock the day before, pulling a 1957 Oldsmobile Fiesta behind them. The 20 hour drive to North Carolina was taking them through places Benny had never been and had never planned to be. They hadn’t stopped for any sight-seeing. This was a money-making expedition. Out of the blue, they had gotten a call from a buyer on the East Coast, looking for a specific car model from a specific year. The model was popular; the same car could have been found in any scrap yard in Oklahoma. It was a rarity on the East Coast, however, where the salt air assaulted the fragile steel bodies, pitting and rusting the once strong frames. The buyer promised more money than the Leach Brothers Scrap Yard would usually see in a month if they delivered the car by five today.
Benny blinked at the sun as it came up over the peaks of the Appalachian Mountains, the curves of the road and the blinding glare conspiring to prevent him from seeing what lay ahead. As it rose higher, he finally got a look at the surroundings he’d been driving through in darkness. The scenery really was beautiful. Trees rose up on either side of the road, stretching their limbs to the sky as if they’d grab the angels Benny’s grandpa swore he saw before they put him in the hospital. The trees were taller here than in Oklahoma, older. The history here went back much further than that of the car he pulled behind him, as old as it was, and would continue long after it had rusted away.
The trees gave way to the main street of a small highway town. Benny passed a pharmacy, a mechanic’s shop, and a post office before spotting a gas station on the edge of town. The fuel gage had fallen precariously close to ‘E’ and Benny glanced at the watch on his left wrist. It was almost time to wake up Autry. Pulling into the gas station, he was glad to see that it had already opened for the day. Despite the lack of traffic, the front door stood propped open, taking advantage of the cool misty morning and slight breeze before the heat of the day stifled the occupants. Throwing the truck into park, Benny reached over and shook Autry’s shoulder roughly.
Autry started awake with a swinging fist and unhappy grumble, “God-dammit, Benny Joe!”
Benny avoided the swing deftly. Going inside the gas station, he filled two cups with black coffee and payed the clerk for them and the gas. Sipping his coffee as he left the store, he handed Autry the second cup silently. The bitter heady taste filled his mouth and warmth radiated through his body, shaking off the chill of the damp morning. Climbing into the passenger side of the truck, he swung the heavy door shut behind him and pillowed his head against the window pointedly. It was his turn to nap.
The truck bumped along. Benny could feel every pot hole and rock in the road. His head banged uncomfortably on the cold glass window. He closed his eyes, let the bumping become a rocking, and drifted off, back into the darkness of the morning.
Opening his eyes sometime later, the windows of the truck had been rolled down, the sun was high in the sky, and the heat of the day was cooking the inside of the cab. The air rushing into Benny’s face provided some relief, a gentle pressure running fingers through his hair. There was a chill to it—moisture. Then the smell of salt hit him. Though he’d never smelled it before, instinctively Benny knew he was smelling the ocean. He sat up straight to peer over the dash, but there was no water in sight. The wind coming from his left carried the smell. The truck continued straight.
After delivering the Fiesta to the buyer, both Benny and Autry were exhausted. Drained and content with their pay-off, they drove home wanting nothing more than to drop into a two-day sleep in their own beds. They took turns driving through the next day and arrived back in Oklahoma tired and smelling of sweat and sea salt.
Years later Benny sat with his daughter and grandchildren in his living room in Foil. His oldest granddaughter was about to go off to college. She was going to be one of the first in their family. “Make money,” Benny’s daughter told her. “Oh, I will,” she answered. “So that I can see things, like the ocean.” Benny paused. “Have you ever seen the ocean, Papa?” she asked.
“Almost,” Benny answered. “I got close once. So close I could smell it.”
Kait Burton
The seat beneath him rattled with vibrations from the engine. The old truck rumbled a slow growl and the comforting smell of burning gasoline filled his nose. Both hands on the wheel, he fought to keep his eyes open. The headlights of the truck illuminated the road ahead. In the dim grey half-light of early morning, he glanced at his brother sleeping in the passenger seat. His partner in crime, life, and business let out an elegant snore. Benny smiled, it was almost a shame he’d have to wake Autry up for his turn to drive soon.
The pair had left Foil a little after five o’clock the day before, pulling a 1957 Oldsmobile Fiesta behind them. The 20 hour drive to North Carolina was taking them through places Benny had never been and had never planned to be. They hadn’t stopped for any sight-seeing. This was a money-making expedition. Out of the blue, they had gotten a call from a buyer on the East Coast, looking for a specific car model from a specific year. The model was popular; the same car could have been found in any scrap yard in Oklahoma. It was a rarity on the East Coast, however, where the salt air assaulted the fragile steel bodies, pitting and rusting the once strong frames. The buyer promised more money than the Leach Brothers Scrap Yard would usually see in a month if they delivered the car by five today.
Benny blinked at the sun as it came up over the peaks of the Appalachian Mountains, the curves of the road and the blinding glare conspiring to prevent him from seeing what lay ahead. As it rose higher, he finally got a look at the surroundings he’d been driving through in darkness. The scenery really was beautiful. Trees rose up on either side of the road, stretching their limbs to the sky as if they’d grab the angels Benny’s grandpa swore he saw before they put him in the hospital. The trees were taller here than in Oklahoma, older. The history here went back much further than that of the car he pulled behind him, as old as it was, and would continue long after it had rusted away.
The trees gave way to the main street of a small highway town. Benny passed a pharmacy, a mechanic’s shop, and a post office before spotting a gas station on the edge of town. The fuel gage had fallen precariously close to ‘E’ and Benny glanced at the watch on his left wrist. It was almost time to wake up Autry. Pulling into the gas station, he was glad to see that it had already opened for the day. Despite the lack of traffic, the front door stood propped open, taking advantage of the cool misty morning and slight breeze before the heat of the day stifled the occupants. Throwing the truck into park, Benny reached over and shook Autry’s shoulder roughly.
Autry started awake with a swinging fist and unhappy grumble, “God-dammit, Benny Joe!”
Benny avoided the swing deftly. Going inside the gas station, he filled two cups with black coffee and payed the clerk for them and the gas. Sipping his coffee as he left the store, he handed Autry the second cup silently. The bitter heady taste filled his mouth and warmth radiated through his body, shaking off the chill of the damp morning. Climbing into the passenger side of the truck, he swung the heavy door shut behind him and pillowed his head against the window pointedly. It was his turn to nap.
The truck bumped along. Benny could feel every pot hole and rock in the road. His head banged uncomfortably on the cold glass window. He closed his eyes, let the bumping become a rocking, and drifted off, back into the darkness of the morning.
Opening his eyes sometime later, the windows of the truck had been rolled down, the sun was high in the sky, and the heat of the day was cooking the inside of the cab. The air rushing into Benny’s face provided some relief, a gentle pressure running fingers through his hair. There was a chill to it—moisture. Then the smell of salt hit him. Though he’d never smelled it before, instinctively Benny knew he was smelling the ocean. He sat up straight to peer over the dash, but there was no water in sight. The wind coming from his left carried the smell. The truck continued straight.
After delivering the Fiesta to the buyer, both Benny and Autry were exhausted. Drained and content with their pay-off, they drove home wanting nothing more than to drop into a two-day sleep in their own beds. They took turns driving through the next day and arrived back in Oklahoma tired and smelling of sweat and sea salt.
Years later Benny sat with his daughter and grandchildren in his living room in Foil. His oldest granddaughter was about to go off to college. She was going to be one of the first in their family. “Make money,” Benny’s daughter told her. “Oh, I will,” she answered. “So that I can see things, like the ocean.” Benny paused. “Have you ever seen the ocean, Papa?” she asked.
“Almost,” Benny answered. “I got close once. So close I could smell it.”