Convertable Cadillac

When I heard mama say that Uncle Buck was in the pen, I thought somebody had penned him up in their backyard with the hound dogs or something.

'Well let's go get him out!' I says.

'I'll explain later,' she says back to me.

Mama had been trying to get the old Cadillac convertable going, turning the key and pumping the gas pedal as hard as she could.

It would just not turn over.

Buck knowed how to get the old Cadillac convertable started. He had just got out awhile back, and he took some mechanical courses so's he could work at a service station, or maybe even OK Rubber Welders. He was up to date.

Buck was walking out of the house when he saw us in distress. He came over and popped the hood, then went and got a Dixie cup full of gas from a can in the garage. He draped a shop rag across his hand and poured the gas into the carburator, kind of hunching down as he was backing up.

'Try it again, Edna!'

'What? I can't hear ye!'

'Crank it up!'

Blam! The carb backfire went off like a shotgun blast. There was a streak of blue, then orange fire blowing out the top like a jet. For a little while the whole top of the motor was on fire, but it died down. The car came to life, and once the fire went out Buck shut down the hood and says we was good to go.

'Just leave it running at the store. It may not start up again. Tell Clyde to look at it when he comes in.'

And whoom, there we was off to the grocery store. I was standing in the front seat as mama pulled out of the driveway, happy to be riding, to feel the hot breeze on my face. I knowed I woud be getting a cold RC Cola soon, and some peanuts to put in it.

My dog Spot ran alongside our car for a block or two, until he finally give up. He run after us every time, but he was always back at the end of the driveway when we came home. I used to want him to come with us, but I gave up asking Mama about that. We took him once and he scratched a hole in the backseat cover while we was riding home.

Never Again!, says Mama.

And she is sticking by it. So far, anyways.

We stuffed the cotton back in and patched the hole with black electrical tape from Daddy's toolbox. Looks fine to me. I don't see what all the uproar is about.

Mama's had it in for Spot for a long time. That don't make me no nevermind. He pulled a clean sheet from the clothesline once when he was a pup, and Mama had to chase him down to get it back before he chewed it up. It had to be re washed and re hung. I think that's where it started. After that, he got to where he pulled all kinds of stuff down. It was fun to see him running with a shirt or a pillowcase clenched in his teeth. Mama would chase him, waiving a straw broom, taking swipes when she could, until he finally let go.

It was lots of fun to see. 'You laugh, little man,' she would say, 'I'll tend to you when I get through with this son of a bitch!'

Tecnically speaking, I guess mama was right. Spot was, after all, a son of a bitch.

Mama never did nothing to me or Spot. She finally had daddy re nail the line up a few inched higher, and she double folded the pants and sheets so that they didn't hang close to the ground. Sometimes I would still see Spot on his hind legs trying to get to them, but they was just out of reach.

It reminded me of me. Stretching out on my hind legs, trying to reach something I just barely couldn't get to.

.