Mac shakes his head. “You know old music almost as well as you know old cars. Figure out what’s up with that carb?”
“Music fills the heart and soul. ’57 Chevys empty the wallet,” Ray says with a wink. “Damn choke is sticking. I think I got it.”
Mac nods and then pokes at the phone, bringing another song to life for a few short beats.
“Close, but no cigar. Though they did it some real justice, I must say.” Ray closes the hood and looks across at Thomas. “The Temptations. I wanna say 1965.”
But as Ray slips around the Chevy, Mac’s granddaughter, Kat, stands in his way, shaking her head. “1966, actually. Smokey Robinson wrote it. It only made it to 29 on Billboard’s charts, while Rare Earth’s shot up to number 4.”
“Ain’t you a walking, talking Wikipedia,” Ray says, chuckling.
“Actually, I came by for something else.”
“What is it Kit-Kat?” Mac waves her over and her father, Thomas, follows.
“Now that I’m eighteen, I can vote for the first time, but I’m not even sure it’s worth it. I mean, it’s like, INSANE, right? We’re soooo divided, Grandpa. I think we’ve lost our compassion. Our humanity. Maybe mostly our minds. Just look at social media...everyone’s at each other’s throat, there’s no middle ground. Was it like that when you were my age?”
“Ooooh, boy. When Ray and I turned eighteen, we were drafted and sent to ‘Nam. That was ’68, and, yeah, this country was a mess. The protests were everywhere. We couldn’t agree on the war. Civil rights. Or even women’s rights. Then, making matters worse, Bobby Kennedy and Martin Luther King were assassinated...” Mac pauses, turning his head to clear his throat and rub moist eyes. “I guess this is probably the most divided I’ve seen us since.”
Kat shakes her head. “So we’re back to where we started? Why should I even bother to vote?”
“It’s going to be your world soon, Kat,” replies Ray. “Your voice does count. And remember, hate is insidious, it spreads like a virus. Love takes time.”
Mac nods. “That’s for sure. Take it from someone who knows...” He taps the phone again, letting Diana Ross and the Supremes sing their lesson, You Can’t Hurry Love.”