Chapter 15

The Model T truck labored slowly up the long hill from Georgetown, and Sammy had to depress the clutch pedal and use the lower gear to achieve the top near Massachusetts Avenue. The unfinished cathedral loomed behind a row of trees off to their right, its truncated tower illuminated by several spotlights.

Polly sat very near him, her left hand on the back of the seat and her right hand at the gas lever. Sammy had his arm about her shoulders in a very proprietary manner. Both had their eyes on the road before them and neither spoke for the whole climb.

"That's where we live," she said suddenly, pointing across his nose to a stone fronted apartment building on the opposite side of the highway, "but can't we ride out a bit farther. This is so much fun. Maybe to Glen Echo."

Sammy retrieved his right arm, turned his truck left, let the clutch out and drove along newly repaved Massachusetts Avenue Extended where a streetcar line had recently been built. The Ford puttered along nicely, and the girl squirmed even more closely beside him on the bench seat, moving the accelerator rod down a bit. He put his arm about her again. She was, Sammy decided, a shameless flirt, and her left leg was certainly rubbing his right leg in an interesting way, keeping time to some song in her head he supposed.

When he had convinced her that his brother might not be home for hours, she had quickly climbed into the truck and arranged her skirt after displaying a good bit of well-turned and silk-clad ankle. He had her set the spark and gas, after a bit of joking explanation, pulled on the crank with his thumb carefully to the side, and he then hopped in beside her when the Model T started right up.

"Goodness," she said as he got his feet settled, "isn't there a door on your side?"

"Henry decided one door was plenty," Sammy said. "It's like give 'em any color they want as long as it's black."

Polly looked at him blankly.

"Haven't you ever ridden in a Model T?"

She shook her head and smiled, moving closer to him. "Why is it bouncing when we're still not moving?"

Sammy adjusted the spark and throttle and the chugging smoothed to the usual putt-putt-putt. He eased off the hand brake and depressed the clutch and they moved along the brick and cobble stone street, passing under a series of ornate streetlights.

"It has three pedals," Polly had said, "but our car only has two I think, no maybe three. It's a Packard. Daddy won't let me drive of course."

Sammy turned onto Wisconsin Avenue and avoided the streetcar tracks as best he could. There was a fair amount of traffic on this Saturday night, but the Ford had no problem keeping pace.

"What does this do?" Polly had asked, pointing to the throttle.

"Makes it go faster or slower," said Sammy. "Try it."

The girl moved over beside him so her shoulder was against his upper arm and pushed the lever up and down gingerly. She smelled good, Sammy noticed, flowery. He was tempted to ask her how old she was, but resisted.

"Pull it down," Sammy told her, "we need to pick up some speed for this hill."

Now as they puttered along the recently opened street that led out into rural Maryland, they moved into relative darkness when the clouds covered the moon and the streetlights ended where there were yet no houses. A breeze had suddenly come up, whipping at the tree limbs, turning leaves the wrong way. It smelled like rain, Sammy decided. "We'd best turn around," he told her, removing his arm from her shoulders and twisting the steering wheel.

"Oh poo," she said, "and I was having so much fun. Will you let me drive it sometime?"

The rain began with very big drops and Sammy pulled to the side of the road quickly, and with the girl kneeling on the seat, and a bit of mutual giggling after he cursed once when he pinched his fingers, they got the canvas top erected in a minute or less. He latched it down and urged the Ford forward until the shower became a downpour.

Sammy pulled under a maple tree, his dim headlights showing the slashing rain, and drew the girl to him, lifting his jacket up to protect her hair, as the wind quartered about to spray into the open sides of the truck. She looked up, raindrops on her face, and he kissed her very gently, watching her close her eyes as their lips met.