Chapter 28

John drove nervously and excitedly towards Jackie’s home. The loud rumble of his Mustang’s exhaust always announced his approach, especially around tall buildings. He didn’t have a reputation as a speeder, but the growl of the exhaust, matched to the car style and colour, always gave the police the anticipation of a high-speed chase.

He followed Jackie’s directions and turned into the driveway of her rural home. John recognized her mother’s blue Monaco and noticed several more old cars parked on the property.

One car he recognized from its distinctive grille was a Cuda, maybe a 71, painted in bright yellow, but he didn’t know the model of the bright green one parked beside it. The rumble of his Mustang gave away his arrival, and the man leaning over the fender of the Cuda came quickly towards him.

“Hold it right there, mister! You can’t park that piece of shit in my driveway!” He said this loudly as he approached John’s window.

John was perturbed by this man’s attitude and figured it was Jackie’s dad and his obvious hatred of Ford cars. He put the car in reverse and was about to back up.

“I’m only kidding!” His large hand, placed on the bottom window sill, was likely strong enough to stop his car from moving. “You must be John Anderson. I remember you as Wayne growing up. I’m Jackie’s dad, Steve, if you remember me,” he offered his hand.

John nervously shook his large-looking hand and said, “Hi, Mr. Saunders, it’s nice to meet you again. It has been a lot of years. My dad said that our families have a long history together.”

“Yes, we have, going back to the Vietnam War and World War 2. So how is John doing, anyway? I haven’t seen him for about six months.”

“He’s doing well, and so are my mom, grandparents, and great-grandparents.”

“So you own a Mustang?” At least you’re driving something sensible. Jackie’s other boyfriends drove old four-banger pieces of shit. I’m sure you know the old acronym for Ford: Fix Or Repair Daily,” he teased.

“I like to think of it as meaning, First On Race Day!” He countered.

“Good comeback!” he grinned. “So this is your wheels?”

“Yes, she’s my baby!” He patted the steering wheel.

“According to Jackie, she’s already your baby! She can’t stop talking about you since meeting you the other day. I appreciate your interest in her—to a point, if you catch my drift. I don’t want to see her taken advantage of because of her injuries,” he cautioned.

“I won’t, Sir. I care about Jackie too. Besides, I played left drift in high school and can detect a subtle hint when I hear one,” he offered with a smile.

“Let’s hear her roar!” Steve asked. John brought the engine to life. He feathered the gas pedal, and a sweet-sounding rumble filled the air.

“Not too bad! I’m not very familiar with Fords; what’s the stock power?”

“My GT is rated at 412 horsepower, but my dad and I upped it to 475.”

“Impressive! You should park around back so none of the neighbours see a Ford sitting in my driveway,” he paused, then smiled. “Just kidding, John, I appreciate any muscle car, no matter the make, and some of those foreign ones are quite the machines. I’m not much into GM products either, but I wouldn’t kick one of those new-style Comaros out of my driveway for leaking oil on it.” He laughed at his joke.

“It’s a nice-looking car. It’s too bad about Jackie’s Challenger. She mentioned she might look at getting her old Charger modified into a four-door.”

“It’s closer to a parts car than reality. Come on in; you may as well meet the rest of our nutty family. I’m fortunate to have four generations of Saunders still alive and kicking.”

“I have four generations also.”

John stepped from his car and, standing tall, was eye to eye with her dad. “How are you healing?” He asked, looking at his head and shoulder.

“I’m getting there and feeling a whole lot better since I met Jackie,” he admitted, tipping his ball cap to reveal his healing scars.

“I know she feels the same way about you too, but I didn’t say that,” he winked.

Steve escorted John around the rancher-style house towards the back door. He gazed at the Cuda, its front wheels raised on a portable ramp.

“I’m giving one of my ladies an oil change. She’s a 1971 Cuda 426 Hemi four-speed with 425 horsepower. They advertise 425 for selling, restrictions because of the lawmakers, but she has dynoed out at 477 as she sits with no mods.”

“Wow, what a beauty!” His eyes were as wide as possible. “My family has some good muscle cars too. My dad owns a 1969 Mustang 428 Cobra Jet, rated at 335 but closer to 425. We also have a 1968 Shelby Cobra GT 500 fastback in a beautiful turquoise blue. My grandfather has a 1968 Torino convertible but doesn’t drive it anymore. The automakers sure were in competition for horsepower in those days.”

“They sure were, and the cars were much simpler to work on back then for tune-ups and oil changes compared to today’s cars full of computer chips. At least they finally get decent gas mileage compared to these old gas guzzlers.”

“I have another car in my garage you might be interested in looking at. Have Jackie show it to you,” Steve said, putting his hand on the left fender of the one beside them. “And this baby is my daily driver, a 1969 Dodge Coronet RT. It has a Magnum 440 cubic inch engine that puts out 375-rated horses. The twin hood scoops may seem small, but they work well,” he smiled proudly. He lifted the long hood, and John scanned over the pristine-looking engine compartment.

“No matter the colour of the car, all engine blocks and air breathers were orange,” he added.

“Nice bright green colour.”

“It’s called sublime green,” he said, closing the hood. “One advantage of being a mechanic and loving old cars for years is having no car payments.”

John noticed Jackie’s 1969 Charger parked beside the garage, awaiting restoration. “I’m glad to see you appreciate the old cars now. Of course, as a kid, you didn’t care much about them.”

Inside the back entrance, John was greeted by an enormous kitchen. He recognized Jackie’s mom, and his eyes widened at the mature beauty before him. Sitting at the kitchen table were two elderly couples.

“I hope you told him to park his piece of shit Ford in the irrigation ditch!” The old man grumbled. “Just kidding, Son, nice set of wheels for a Ford!” He smiled.

“Oh, come on, Harold, you’ll give him a complex, and he’ll stay away from Jackie,” the woman countered.

Jackie hobbled into the kitchen, and their faces lit up. She wore her same cotton shorts and a different top that pressed against her breasts from her crutches.

“I see you’ve met my dad,” she beamed. “I hope he wasn’t too mean to you for owning a Ford Mustang.”

“He wasn’t; he just has a good respect for horses and horsepower,” he quipped.

“You’ve met my mom, Adele, and these are my grandparents, Harold and Betty Saunders, and my great grandparents, Samuel and Lorraine.” Adele was an older version of Jackie in stature and was wearing a nicely scooped top and shorts. He felt Jackie’s tits press to his chest as she gave him a welcoming hug and kiss on the cheek.

“Hello, Sirs, Ma’ams, It’s an honour to meet all of you.”

“How is your family doing?” Harold wondered.

“Like Jackie, I also have both my grandparents and great-grandparents still alive. My mom says our families have a long history together.”

“They sure do,” Mr. Saunders senior began. “Your granddad and I were together in Vietnam and came home in one piece, thank the Lord. And my dad almost didn’t come home from World War 2, no thanks to your great grandpa,” he looked to John.

“What happened?”

“They were on the offensive,” Harold began.

“Hey, Sonny, it’s my story, and I’m still alive to damn well tell it!” Samuel countered with a captivating gold-tooth smile.

John chuckled, looking at the most senior Mr. Saunders, who must be in his late eighties or early nineties.

“We were on the offensive to take Guadalcanal from the Japanese. During a heavy firefight, your great-grandpa and I had to scramble for cover. He was holding his rifle in both hands and running when he stumbled and fell forward. He accidentally fired off a round, hitting me in the left leg.” He raised his pants leg to show John the scar on his left calf.

“That damn son of a bitch almost killed me after all the fighting hell we’d been through! It hurt like hell, and I swore blue blazes at him. He said to me, ‘Well, if I’d hit you in the head, it would have gone in one ear and out the other without hitting a damn thing!’ Despite all the horrible killings we witnessed, we couldn’t help but laugh at what he did. I was in pure agony, yet I couldn’t help laughing too. He apologized to me forever!”

“I’ll tell you one thing though: when I couldn’t walk, he carried me over his back to the Medics. He was nominated for the Silver Star Medal for “galantry in the face of the enemy against the United States.”

“He told our captain it was friendly fire and he’d accidentally shot me. Despite telling the truth, he was still awarded the medal because he carried me while we were being shot at. That son of a bitch shoots me in the leg and gets a goddamn medal for it!” He joked.

John smiled, gazing with wonder at this great man, a little shaky but still so full of life.

“We always had the others back, no matter which generation. All four of us have been through hell and back and can still depend on each other at the drop of a phone call, and that includes your dad and Steve. We should keep in touch better because we are not spring chickens anymore. Hell, we’re both closing in on a hundred. I’d like to live long enough to see the fifth generation.” Samuel winked at Jackie.

“Ok, GG, I get the hint, and enough with your old war stories for now,” Jackie teased.

“No, no, I enjoyed it very much. I’m very grateful I have my dad, grandparents, and great-grandparents still alive and what their friends meant to them,” John justified.

“And so am I.” Jackie kissed her four senior patriarchs and matriarchs on the forehead. “I have to apply the ointment to my leg and rewrap my bandage. You may as well see what you’re getting yourself into.”

Jackie sat at the table and slowly, with discomfort, propped her leg on her mother’s lap. He couldn’t help but look at her crotch in her cotton shorts and the mound her pussy made. She smiled a little shyly at him, knowing the target of his stare.

Adele gingerly removed the expansion bandage from around her leg. John wrinkled his brow in sympathy as he saw the length and grossness of her marks. Her knee was healing well, but the leg to her ankle was one long bluish, brown, yellow, and blackened mark, as if a magic marker had made a crazy etching along its length.

“I have a steel rod that goes from here to here,” she pointed out. Jackie looked at John, touching his hand. “Believe it or not, it does look better. I told John we’d find out on Monday if I could keep my leg or not. Would it be alright if he comes with us to the hospital, Mom?”

“I suppose so, if he wants,” Adele agreed. Jackie looked at John, her eyes already memorizing his handsome features.

“I do want to; thank you for asking me!” He quickly replied. They shared a quiet smile as they watched her mom clean her leg, apply a fresh coat of ointment, and then rewrap it.

“I never thought I’d see this sight again,” her grandmother said.

“What do you mean, Grandma?”

“You and John are together again at last.”

“Don’t you remember you two kids playing when you were growing up?”

“No.” They looked at each other.

“When we’d gather at the different malls or fairs for a Show and Shine, you and John—well, he was Wayne then—were always playing together. We’d laugh because Jackie would always be chasing you around the cars, trying to catch you and give you kisses.”

“I don’t remember that,” John said, looking at her and Jackie.

“I’m beginning to,” Jackie chuckled.

“But I do remember that I liked hiding in the old cars,” he agreed.

“That was to get away from Jackie. Don’t you remember how you got that scar on your forehead?”

“All I remember was running into the bumper or corner of a big car,” he said, touching the half-inch mark above his left eye.

“You were running to get away from Jackie and cracked your head on the corner of an old Cadillac. You sure would protest when she’d finally catch you and smother you with kisses.” They all laughed, remembering the times.

“I don’t think John would even attempt now to run away from her kisses or anything else she has to offer him! Across the generations, we always had each other’s back. I think John wants to cover not only Jackie’s back but her front too!” Her grandfather piped up, and they laughed again.

“Harold, you and your dirty mind.” Betty playfully slapped his shoulder. A fleeting glance at the others revealed blushing faces.

Jackie’s eyes widened and glistened as her family took them down memory lane. She began to giggle, touching John’s hand and covering her mouth. She had to stifle more laughter.

“What’s the matter?”

“Nothing; I just remembered something we used to do together as kids at the car shows. I’ll tell you about it tonight.” She giggled again.

Jackie then excused herself and disappeared. John continued to chat with the generations of Saunders, feeling more welcomed as the minutes passed by.

“Wow!” He interrupted, seeing Jackie’s new appearance. She had changed into an orange and yellow print sundress that had a decently scooped neckline to reveal the upper thirds of her breasts, and the hem was well above her knees. White buttons kept it closed from neck to hem. It gathered around her tiny waist and flowed effortlessly over her hips.

“She’s really serious about you, John! She never wore a dress for her other boyfriends,” Harold teased her.

“Oh, Harold, you’re making her blush again.”

“I’m going to show John the cars, then we’re going on our date.”

“Okay honey, be careful and enjoy yourselves.” She then whispered to her mom, who nodded in agreement.

“And be doing everything I used to do!” Her great-grandfather teased, deserving another playful smack from his loving and exasperated wife.

Jackie led John to the darkened garage, unlocked it, and turned on the fluorescent lights. “Wow!” His eyes lit up like a kid’s on Christmas morning. The interior had been modelled after an old gas station, with numerous pieces of memorabilia adorning the walls. The floor was painted a glossy light grey that looked clean enough to eat off. However, it was what was parked on the floor that drew his attention.

“Oh my god, your family has a Plymouth Superbird? It’s even got the Roadrunner bird on the huge tail and a huge Plymouth decal in black on the back fenders!”

He gazed at the side profile of the enormous car, including the round, bullet-shaped front nose. The square black panels on the front hid the retractable headlights, and the twin scoops over the front wheels, though ornamental, made it more unusual.

“I’m pleased that you do know your cars!” She smiled, moving next to him. “It’s got a 426 hemi that puts out 425 horsepower, according to the brochure, but a dyno test pegged it at 535!”

“Holy shit, that orange is so bright, and that black vinyl roof is so different from today’s cars!” He leaned to gaze at the interior and said, “It looks brand new!” He marvelled. She leaned over, and a glance showed him her round breasts, caressed by the same low-cut bra.

“Get in it if you want,” she smiled.

“I can?” She nodded, and he opened the huge door. It closed soundly, and he gripped the steering wheel.

“You don’t remember this car and our others?”

“I guess as a kid, being around them so much got boring.” Jackie reached in and pressed the semi-circular chrome ring on the lower half of the steering wheel. “Beep, beep!” It honked, mimicking the cartoon’s bird call. His nostrils flared, catching a whiff of her sensual perfume.

“Man, what a beauty!” He looked over the shiny black interior. He looked at Jackie, leaning her head in closer. Her scoop neckline puffed out, affording him a perfect view of her breasts. “Man, what a beauty, and I’m not just talking about the car!” He repeated, looking from her breasts to her clear blue eyes.

She looked down at her dress, seeing her tits in his view, then said to him, “Thank you, and I’m glad you approve!” She smiled, then put a hand to the back of his neck and suddenly stole a kiss from him. As he scanned the interior, she undid the top button on her dress.

She backed up as he exited the car and let him go to the Cuda outside. Her dad closed the hood, filling the open hole with the flat black shaker hood intake for the carburetor. He turned on the ignition, and the engine barked to life. The starter had that unmistakable whirring sound to it. He backed it off the ramp and feathered the engine.

“Man, that sounds so sweet!” He gazed in through the passenger door window at the flawless layout.

“It’s about time you had a boyfriend who appreciates older muscle cars,” Steve smiled at them.