Ricky sits on the ground next to where his father’s car was parked with his back against a lamp pole. He pulls up his knees and holds his head in his hands looking down at he gray curb. I pat him on the head like he’s a lonely, stray, dog and walk around the car parked in the spot to the driver’s window.
“Hey, kid!” someone in the crowd of people walking by shouts. I look around for the shouter. A guy is making his way through the people. “What ya doing with my car!”
“Is this your Chevy,” I ask as innocent as I can. It could use a lot of work but I add, “Nice car,” because all fifty-seven Chevys are nice cars.
He softens a little as he reaches his car, “She needs a lot of work. What you need?”
“We’re looking for the car that was parked here before you,” I point toward Ricky who is still just staring at the ground.
“Didn’t see a car,” he pauses for a minute like he’s considering whether I’m worth it or not and then adds “saw the truck.”
“One on those closed in car haulers like the race car drivers use. He half blocked the road for about five minutes. Cars were creeping around the truck, almost caused a couple of accidents.”
“Did they load a tiny Honda car into it?”
“By the time I got here they were pushing in the ramps and pulling down the door. As soon as there was room I nosed into the parking spot.” The pride he was feeling at capturing such a prime spot showed on this face.
“What kind of truck?” Ricky asked he was all of a sudden standing beside us completely interested.
The fifty-seven Chevy guy jumps a little at Ricky’s intrusion but answers, “Only saw the back.” Seeing Ricky’s obvious disappointment he adds, “there was a picture of the back of a car on the roll down gate.” We both must look puzzled because he adds, “Made it look like the gate was open and you could see what was riding inside the truck.”
“Some kind of race car. It had a spoiler and a number,” the fifty-seven Chevy guy looks around like he’s afraid his group is leaving without him.
“Do you remember the number?” Ricky asks.
“Got to go kids,” and he takes off to join the people he’s with.
“What color was the race car?” Ricky hollers after him.
The fifty-seven Chevy guy turns and hollers over his shoulder, “light blue!”