She winked.
Wheels caked in filth, flanks mud-dirty, still she shone with glints of hidden wonder. Tarnished silver she was, a gritty diamond, forbidden treasure. A necklace graced her, a sign promising gifts: Free ATV, enjoy. Slowing my pickup, I hopped out.
Circling, hands twitching, I breathed her oil perfume. My fingers stroked her sides, begging forgiveness as I tapped, listening for metal wealth. A newcomer to the scrapping game, I hesitated, but she didn't rush me. Just blinked, as if waking to a copper-gold dawn.
Rolling my shoulders, I hefted her, testing for weight. She was a solid gal, good and strong. Valuable. I named her Adelaide, welcomed her with a pat, and rolled her up the tailgate ramp. Next to the rusty bike and mini fridge, she glowed.
We bounced over potholes, rough roads, and sandy drives, my metal companions creaking and complaining in back. Twice, we stopped for newcomers, but none could compete with my gal.
At the meet, I unloaded old Fred, my pickup. Time had faded my friend's paint and dented his sides, but I couldn’t scrap him, not ever. Turning down the usual offers, I listened as others haggled with The Man. A parade of once-loved tricycles and toothless dishwashers danced to his monied tune.
When my turn came, the bargaining song chirped from his auctioneer’s mouth. Yet, somehow, my heart couldn’t hear it. My belly did, so I waited it out, the croaking and cawing, the circling, the grisly battle for metal corpses. A feast of destruction.
A devil’s handshake later, it was done.
Handing over Minny the fridge and Rusty the bike, I felt a spike settle deep in my soul. Couldn’t even look at their forlorn frames. Adelaide, my pretty lady, trembled under my hands.
The buzzing of sawzalls, the stink of butane, the slam of doors sullied the air. Tools wailed and whirred as they separated parts from iron-rich bodies. Men wiped their brows. Butchers, every last one.
With fresh eyes I considered my gal. Clean grace and beauty clothed her, while I stood besmirched with mud. Fork-tongued Choice loomed, promising fast bucks or conscience, ease or hardship, Addy's life or chopped-up death.
In that forge, I discovered both my own mettle and the truth of Adelaide. ‘Free’ had not, and never would mean, worthless.
**
Heavy-footed, and longing for home, I boarded my faithful Fred. Prizes my gasoline friend had hauled for me, over both easy and awful years, but today marked our first real journey.
Blinded by the last blaze of a setting sun, we swung by Adelaide’s place. I rolled her down like royalty, to sit like a jewel on a cushion of emerald grass. Her pendant I roped ‘round her neck, a tag engraved with hope for the future. Free ATV, enjoy.
Wheels caked in filth, flanks mud-dirty, still she shone with glints of hidden wonder. Tarnished silver she was, a gritty diamond, forbidden treasure. A necklace graced her, a sign promising gifts: Free ATV, enjoy. Slowing my pickup, I hopped out.
Circling, hands twitching, I breathed her oil perfume. My fingers stroked her sides, begging forgiveness as I tapped, listening for metal wealth. A newcomer to the scrapping game, I hesitated, but she didn't rush me. Just blinked, as if waking to a copper-gold dawn.
Rolling my shoulders, I hefted her, testing for weight. She was a solid gal, good and strong. Valuable. I named her Adelaide, welcomed her with a pat, and rolled her up the tailgate ramp. Next to the rusty bike and mini fridge, she glowed.
We bounced over potholes, rough roads, and sandy drives, my metal companions creaking and complaining in back. Twice, we stopped for newcomers, but none could compete with my gal.
At the meet, I unloaded old Fred, my pickup. Time had faded my friend's paint and dented his sides, but I couldn’t scrap him, not ever. Turning down the usual offers, I listened as others haggled with The Man. A parade of once-loved tricycles and toothless dishwashers danced to his monied tune.
When my turn came, the bargaining song chirped from his auctioneer’s mouth. Yet, somehow, my heart couldn’t hear it. My belly did, so I waited it out, the croaking and cawing, the circling, the grisly battle for metal corpses. A feast of destruction.
A devil’s handshake later, it was done.
Handing over Minny the fridge and Rusty the bike, I felt a spike settle deep in my soul. Couldn’t even look at their forlorn frames. Adelaide, my pretty lady, trembled under my hands.
The buzzing of sawzalls, the stink of butane, the slam of doors sullied the air. Tools wailed and whirred as they separated parts from iron-rich bodies. Men wiped their brows. Butchers, every last one.
With fresh eyes I considered my gal. Clean grace and beauty clothed her, while I stood besmirched with mud. Fork-tongued Choice loomed, promising fast bucks or conscience, ease or hardship, Addy's life or chopped-up death.
In that forge, I discovered both my own mettle and the truth of Adelaide. ‘Free’ had not, and never would mean, worthless.
**
Heavy-footed, and longing for home, I boarded my faithful Fred. Prizes my gasoline friend had hauled for me, over both easy and awful years, but today marked our first real journey.
Blinded by the last blaze of a setting sun, we swung by Adelaide’s place. I rolled her down like royalty, to sit like a jewel on a cushion of emerald grass. Her pendant I roped ‘round her neck, a tag engraved with hope for the future. Free ATV, enjoy.
