traffic. It had just rained. The sewer drains thundered liltingly; the streets shone like glazed candy. And before them, now — the car. A long, curvy, ample machine, it sported some chrome — a front grille like a bulldog's jaw, a back bumper. But mostly it was a heartwarmingly plain, sincere machine, promising good fun and few breakdowns; the sort of car that, especially in soft yellow, looked like nothing so much as a bar of soap.
Grover patted it as though it were a racehorse. "She's some gal," he said, between pats. His diamond ring clanked enthusiastically. Old Chao watched nervously, and when Grover turned, inspected the metal for scratches.
"Beautiful!" Ralph touched the car with one respectful finger.
"How's the top work?" Grover asked. "Can we get a look?"
Old Chao started to say no, something about how he didn't like to fold it up when it was wet, but Grover started to clank some more.
"Well, okay." Old Chao unlocked the door in order to demonstrate how the roof unlatched, how it accordioned. The snaps that held it in place, the cover that fastened over that. "What you think?"
Ralph and Grover oohed.
"You see this?" Old Chao showed them the spare tire, which rode in its own metal case on the rear bumper. Ralph and Grover
ahhed. "You want to sit inside?" Opening the door, Old Chao seemed to have forgotten his irritation.
Grover settled into the driver's seat. Ralph sat beside him.
"How about the radio there?" asked Grover. "Does it work?"
"Sure." Old Chao reached back into his pocket for the keys. "You got to turn on the engine."
Ralph and Grover tested the radio, the windshield wipers, the lights.
"What an auto-mo-bile," said Grover. "You're one lucky
guy."
"I guess I am," said Old Chao, a little surprised.
All three of them shook their heads a moment.
"How'd you get so lucky?" asked Grover. "You got a secret?"
"Oh, I don't know."
"Nothing you'd care to divulge, huh."
"I just work hard, you know."
The car hummed.
"I just do what people tell me, and don't ask so many questions." Old Chao said this pointedly; but then as if remembering himself, continued in a more amiable tone. "Maybe that's the trick. You know, American people, they always ask this, ask that. Not me."
"When people tell you to hop to it, you hop, hop, hop."
"That's right. That's the Chinese way. Polite." Something in Grover's tone seemed to have set Old Chao back on edge.
"When people ask a question, you answer. No fooling around."
"Right."
"Hmmm," said Grover. "How do you release this brake here?"
"Just pull on the handle." Old Chao answered civilly, modelling his manners.
Grover pulled.
"1 wish I have car like this someday," said Ralph.
"And how do you drive?" asked Grover, hands on the wheel.
"First you put the car in gear," answered Old Chao. "Then you step on the pedal."
Grover put the car in gear, then stepped on the pedal.
"Hey! Stop!" called Old Chao as the car sped away. "Not funny! Hey! Not funny!"
By the time he'd started running, though, Grover and Ralph had already turned the corner; all he got for his efforts was the dwindling sound of the pair of them, laughing.
"Maybe we better go home," said Ralph, after a few minutes. Grover kept driving. "Where are we going?"
"Where do you want to go?"
"Home," said Ralph. He explained where he lived.
"You like it there?"
"Some things I like, some I don't." Ralph told Grover about Pete the super and Boyboy.
"Hmm," said Grover then, or at least that's what Ralph thought he said. He couldn't hear anymore. Since leaving the traffic on the George Washington Bridge they had sped up; now they were headed straight west, fast. Later Ralph was to notice how Grover loved motion in general and speed in particular — obliterating speeds; and how, just when the rest of the world packed its tools away, at twilight, he seemed to come most alive. He didn't ever seem to need to see better than he did.
For example, now. The sun was huge and low, directly ahead; it looked
Grover patted it as though it were a racehorse. "She's some gal," he said, between pats. His diamond ring clanked enthusiastically. Old Chao watched nervously, and when Grover turned, inspected the metal for scratches.
"Beautiful!" Ralph touched the car with one respectful finger.
"How's the top work?" Grover asked. "Can we get a look?"
Old Chao started to say no, something about how he didn't like to fold it up when it was wet, but Grover started to clank some more.
"Well, okay." Old Chao unlocked the door in order to demonstrate how the roof unlatched, how it accordioned. The snaps that held it in place, the cover that fastened over that. "What you think?"
Ralph and Grover oohed.
"You see this?" Old Chao showed them the spare tire, which rode in its own metal case on the rear bumper. Ralph and Grover
ahhed. "You want to sit inside?" Opening the door, Old Chao seemed to have forgotten his irritation.
Grover settled into the driver's seat. Ralph sat beside him.
"How about the radio there?" asked Grover. "Does it work?"
"Sure." Old Chao reached back into his pocket for the keys. "You got to turn on the engine."
Ralph and Grover tested the radio, the windshield wipers, the lights.
"What an auto-mo-bile," said Grover. "You're one lucky
guy."
"I guess I am," said Old Chao, a little surprised.
All three of them shook their heads a moment.
"How'd you get so lucky?" asked Grover. "You got a secret?"
"Oh, I don't know."
"Nothing you'd care to divulge, huh."
"I just work hard, you know."
The car hummed.
"I just do what people tell me, and don't ask so many questions." Old Chao said this pointedly; but then as if remembering himself, continued in a more amiable tone. "Maybe that's the trick. You know, American people, they always ask this, ask that. Not me."
"When people tell you to hop to it, you hop, hop, hop."
"That's right. That's the Chinese way. Polite." Something in Grover's tone seemed to have set Old Chao back on edge.
"When people ask a question, you answer. No fooling around."
"Right."
"Hmmm," said Grover. "How do you release this brake here?"
"Just pull on the handle." Old Chao answered civilly, modelling his manners.
Grover pulled.
"1 wish I have car like this someday," said Ralph.
"And how do you drive?" asked Grover, hands on the wheel.
"First you put the car in gear," answered Old Chao. "Then you step on the pedal."
Grover put the car in gear, then stepped on the pedal.
"Hey! Stop!" called Old Chao as the car sped away. "Not funny! Hey! Not funny!"
By the time he'd started running, though, Grover and Ralph had already turned the corner; all he got for his efforts was the dwindling sound of the pair of them, laughing.
"Maybe we better go home," said Ralph, after a few minutes. Grover kept driving. "Where are we going?"
"Where do you want to go?"
"Home," said Ralph. He explained where he lived.
"You like it there?"
"Some things I like, some I don't." Ralph told Grover about Pete the super and Boyboy.
"Hmm," said Grover then, or at least that's what Ralph thought he said. He couldn't hear anymore. Since leaving the traffic on the George Washington Bridge they had sped up; now they were headed straight west, fast. Later Ralph was to notice how Grover loved motion in general and speed in particular — obliterating speeds; and how, just when the rest of the world packed its tools away, at twilight, he seemed to come most alive. He didn't ever seem to need to see better than he did.
For example, now. The sun was huge and low, directly ahead; it looked
Similar Books
