Chapter 1

“Jeez, Dad. What an ugly car.”

My son laughed as he held a picture up, arms length from his face as if it could actually damage his eyes.

“You didn’t really drive around in that, did you?”

I stretched my hand out and waved it, silently demanding he turn over the offending picture and Tom put it in my hand just as my wife leaned over and laughed.

“That was your father’s first car,” she cackled.

“Man is it ugly. What was it?” Tom asked as I jerked the picture from his hand.

“A Rambler,” his Mom said.

Miffed, I corrected my wife, “A 1959 Rambler American Continental.”

“That’s right,” Laura’s mirth boiled forth. “I forgot.”

“What’s that on the back?” Tom pointed at the picture, now in my hand. Engrossed in the picture, I didn’t answer.

“Oh, that. That was for the rear tire,” Laura explained. “Like a Lincoln,” she laughed.

“You went out with Dad when he was driving that?” Tom’s skepticism was evident in his voice, clearly not convinced that an attractive, modern woman like his mother would have gone out with a ‘goodie-goodie’ like his father, especially driving such a joke car.

“Oh no,” Laura laughed. “Gran owned half of it and she talked your Grandad into lending your Dad the money to get a car of his own after he first brought me home, something decent to take a nice girl out in, bless her soul. That’s when he got the ‘57 Chevy hardtop. Now that was a nice car. There should be a picture of it in here somewhere.”

Laura started pushing pictures around, searching for the Chevy, and Tom’s attention turned to the new search. My focus remained on the ‘59 Rambler. The picture, as far as I knew, was the only one left of that car. Dad had taken the picture of me standing by the driver’s side door, with Mom beside me. My hand was stretched out onto the roof of the car and my other arm was curled around my Mom’s waist, standing beside me.

We were looking through boxes of Mom’s old pictures. She passed away last year, three years after Dad. My eyes focused on the picture of my mother, about forty then but looking trim and youthful. We both wore big smiles, still innocent of what would happen in the car which, as Laura noted, was shared between my mother and me. I put the picture in my shirt pocket and joined the search for a picture of my beloved ‘57 Chevy, the car in which Tom would had been conceived if Laura hadn’t been so insistent on me using condoms.

I enjoyed this part of the day, evening, after everyone else had gone to bed. I was sitting in my lazy boy, feet up, lights dimmed, TV showing the news but the sound turned way down, sipping a glass of 20 year old port. My thoughts turned back to the picture of the Rambler and I pulled it from my shirt pocket.

The Rambler. So many special memories. Laura was right about one thing. Mom did make Dad lend me the money to get a car, money I never paid back. And Mom didn’t want me to take Laura out in it, but Laura was a long ways away from the why of it. Thank god.

I closed my eyes, picturing those first days in the Rambler.

I sure as hell didn’t want that Rambler. It was a dorky looking car, that was for sure. I wouldn’t have minded, though, if it had been all mine but my father insisted that I could only have a car if I shared one with Mom and after a year, if I didn’t have any accidents, I could either buy her out or get one on my own. I was pissed at having to share a car, and more pissed at the car Dad picked out. But wheels were wheels so I capitulated, with as much grace as I could muster under the circumstances.

I didn’t need to look at the picture to remember the Rambler or to see Mom as she was then. Mom was a tall woman, only a couple of inches shorter than me, and thin. Her face, outlined by dark hair worn straight to just touch her shoulders, was a little too drawn to be called pretty. She would more aptly have been described as a handsome woman. But one thing that did stand out about her was her lithe figure and normal sized breasts that seemed overly large and pert on such a long, slender frame. Perhaps to compensate for her not-quite-there beauty, Mom had a penchant for wearing tight sweaters made of soft material that tended to cling to her breasts, emphasizing their size and perfect form. The picture certainly showed that the way she was standing beside me, leaning in with her head against my chest, her body twisted so that one breast was thrust out more than the other. Her straight hair was unique then, too. At that time, if a woman wore her hair mid-length, it fell just past her shoulders and was flipped up and out in a little semi-curl. Mom’s fell just short of her shoulder and curled in, like a modern cut today.

How did it all start? ... What was it?

Oh, Yeah. I was arguing because I wanted the car on Saturday night but I had already had it Friday night and all day Saturday. Mom wasn’t using it but my Dad imposed his will and said I couldn’t have the car all weekend, no reason provided. That was it. I could go to the drive-in in Tim’s car for a change. It didn’t matter that the Rambler, with its fold-down 60/40 seat was better for the drive in — how could I explain that to my Dad, especially in front of my mother? Not that we had any dates lined up, but we were always hopeful that we could pick something up cruising the town before the movie. Mom lobbied for me but Dad’s mind was set and that was that.

That’s when Tim phoned and, after I broke the news, told me that his Mom was using ‘his’ car — he was in the same stupid car situation as me — to go to the drive-in because there was a movie on that she wanted to see. Tim’s mom knew we always parked his car anyway and used mine. She was a little more with it than my parents.

So now it looked like we had to go to the drive-in with Tim’s mom in tow. We weren’t in the cool crowd at school and this would certainly make sure that never happened. Mom overheard me talking on the phone and signaled that she wanted to talk to Tim’s mom. They were friends of course, as many people the same age were in a small town like ours. On the phone, Mom invited herself to see the movie too, and then hung up.

I was left standing looking at the wall phone as Mom walked into the living room to inform Dad that Tim’s Mom wanted company to see a movie so she was going to join her and they would use our car so Tim and I could use his. She turned back to me as Dad nodded his consent and told me to hurry so she wouldn’t be late for the show.

In the car, Mom confided that she didn’t really care about the movie. She was only going so that Tim and I could use our car and she would go with Tim’s Mom, Millie. I think that was the first time I realized that my mom was actually kind of cool.

Cooler than Tim’s mom anyway. It turned out that Millie didn’t want to go to the movie that was on in town after she heard about the double feature playing at the drive-in in Middleton where Tim and I wanted to go. Tim ran out to meet Mom and I to explain this. His mom wouldn’t relinquish the car, insisting that we take her and my mom to the drive-in, at least for the first movie which she wanted to see and then she’d turn over the car. As an added incentive, she offered to buy gas for the next two weeks and let him have the car both nights the following weekend. Tim implored me to agree. What could I do?

So we drove to the edge of town and dropped the car off in the empty, outside mall parking lot, the only one in town, and headed for Middleton in the Ramber with the two moms in the back seat. Just before town, I pulled over.

“What’s wrong?” Mom asked, leaning forward, concern in her voice. “Are we out of gas?”

“No.”

“Then what’s wrong?”

Tim looked as confused as our moms.

“We can’t go into the drive-in like this.”

“Like what?” Tim piped in.

“With us sitting in front and two girls sitting in back,” I said impatiently, exasperated with his lack of insight. “We’ll look like real dorks.”

“It’s better than driving in with our moms,” Tim retorted

“No one will notice if they keep their faces turned away. We’ll be through the gate and in the dark before anyone sees.”

“Thanks a lot,” Millie spoke up. She turned to Mom, laughing, “God forbid they should be seen with two old dinosaurs.”

“Millie,” Mom said. “You remember what it was like to be a teenager. Let’s just switch seats until we get inside.” Without waiting for a response from Tim’s mom, Mom pushed on the seat behind me. “Let me out.”

Mom walked around and waited for Tim to crawl into the back to sit next to his Mom, who scooted over behind me. As we drove on, Mom took some money out of her purse and handed it to me. “Here, I’ll treat so you can pay quickly.”

I took the money and tried to make my appreciation for Mom’s understanding obvious in my voice. “Thanks Mom.” She didn’t say anything but reached over to affectionately pat my leg a couple of times.

At the gate, Mom turned to talk to Millie, not once facing the girl in the ticket booth. We were through in record time and I steered the car close to the far side, away from the usual gathering spot for kids from our town. I offered to fetch pop and popcorn and Tim’s mom insisted on paying. The first feature had started by the time I got back. I breathed a sigh of relief to see that everyone was still seated in the same spots.

After getting settled inside and handing out the drinks and popcorn, I said to Tim, “It’s a good thing you didn’t change seats.”

“Why?”

“I ran into Anderson and that bunch with their girlfriends in the lineup. Anderson said he saw us parked over here and asked where we picked up the two older girls.”

Both of the moms laughed out loud. Tim was concerned, “What did you say?”

“I said we took a spin by the college and got lucky. I told him I’d owe him one if they didn’t bug us and he said ok but I had to spill the beans if we got lucky. Getts said they’d be too busy themselves anyway. I don’t know what Karen see in him, lucky asshole ... Sorry, Mom.”

“It’s ok.”

“What a riot,” Millie laughed. “This is hilarious. Come on, Mary, let’s take a walk.”

“Mom, don’t!” Tim yelled, restraining his mom as she tried to reach past Mom for the door handle.

“I’m just kidding, don’t freak out,” Millie gasped, laughing so hard now she could hardly speak. “We’ll play along.”

Mom looked at me, reassuring, “Yes, we’ll play along.”

We all turned to watch the movie. About ten minutes later, Millie complained.

“Tim, what are you doing?”

I looked in the mirror to see Tim’s shadowy head moving into the middle of the backseat, squeezing his mom into the corner.

“I can’t sit way over there,” he said. “It will look like we bombed out.”

“What?” Millie sounded confused.

“If we’re sitting way apart, those guys will think we bombed out and Rick and I will get the shit bugged out of us on Monday.”

“Watch your language,” Millie said, then, with more understanding, “Oh, I see.” There was further rustling in the dark as Tim completed his move, then Millie complained, “But I can’t see through the middle now.”

“Rick,” Tim said. “Move over.”

I didn’t move, staying behind the wheel. Tim pushed on the seat several times, hard enough to jerk me ahead.

“Come on, move over. Don’t blow it.”

“Come on, honey,” Mom kicked in. “I won’t bite you.” She picked the popcorn up from the seat, opened the glove box and set it there. “Come on, play the game,” she beckoned.

I shifted over about half way from behind the wheel, leaving about a foot between us. Silence settled into the car, except for the sound of the movie from the speaker box hanging in the window, the munching of popcorn, and the odd suck through a straw. After another ten minutes or so, Tim’s mom spoke again.

“Timmy, can you pull the seat back so I can see over it?” Her voice was quieter, almost like a real date half an hour into a movie.

Tim wiggled the seat. “Move over more, Rick.”

I complied and Rick must have leaned down to pull the seat lever because it pulled back as soon as I shifted over. I had to move even more then to support myself and ended pressed very close to Mom. I felt awkward.

“Sorry, Mom,” I whispered.

“It’s ok. You haven’t cuddled with me since you were little. I don’t mind,” she assured me.

Mom nestled against me and I put my arm around her a minute later, not knowing what else to do with it. As the movie played on, we gradually shifted about, getting more comfortable, Mom turning her back a little more to the door and me shifting closer to her because the screen was to the left of the car and I needed to twist toward Mom to save my neck.

Silence reigned in the car again. In the quiet, I became aware of Mom as a woman, even before the first sex scene. The scent of her perfume, tastefully applied in small amounts, filled my nostrils. I found myself pretending that I was relieving my neck by looking away from the screen but I was really looking at the front of Mom’s sweater, pleased to see that she was wearing one with a deep ‘V’ cut that showed the inner swells of her breasts. I truly hadn’t noticed until then but, once seen, I couldn’t help looking again and again. Mom didn’t seem to notice my attention.

Mom’s breasts were captivating in the flickering cinematic light. She must have been wearing one of those bras that connected only at the bottom because I could see quite a bit of her cleavage without any sign of a white restraint. On my umpteenth perusal of her assets, Mom suddenly fidgeted and I thought I had been caught. This would be awkward. But she only complained about her foot going to sleep and lifted her left knee to dangle her leg over mine. I was thrilled when the flickering light revealed that Mom’s skirt had been pushed back from her knees to reveal tantalizing glimpses of tender, white thigh.

For the next while I was torn between admiring Mom’s breasts and trying to dig my eyes deeper under her skirt between her legs, trying to catch a glimpse of white panty. I was also surprised to realize that at some point I had started toying with Mom’s hair and stroking the nape of her neck. Stranger yet, she hadn’t said a thing or given any indication that she was even aware I was doing it!

Just then, there a rustling in the backseat, followed by Millie whispering.

“What are you doing? ... Stop it, Tim.”

“Shhhhhh.” I presumed it was Tim responding. “Just play along or they’ll figure it out.”

More rustling followed by an unintelligible protest, then a long pause. I looked at Mom and she looked back at me. We were still regarding each other when we heard the unmistakable sound of kissing. Mom’s eyes widened, as I’m sure mine did, and then looked into the backseat. I kept my gaze fixed on Mom’s face and I remember clearly thinking that she wasn’t just handsome, she was beautiful. Mom looked back at me, eyes sparkling, her face crinkling up into a conspiratorial smile of shared discovery.

“Tim...”

“Someone was standing behind the car. I think those guys are checking us out.”

Millie’s response was cut off by the sound of more kissing. Mom smiled at me again and turned back to watch the movie but I had to twist my head around to see if Tim really was kissing his mom. He was. They were necking as hard as he did with any girl I’d seen him with. When I turned back, I cast my eyes down over Mom’s chest and suddenly realized that my left hand was on the outside of her right knee. I must have moved it naturally when I twisted around. Mom was paying it no attention, so I left it where it was.

When the light flickered brightly across Mom’s features I again realized how truly beautiful she now seemed. As the light dimmed, I impulsively leaned forward and kissed her lightly on the cheek in response to the overwhelming affection I felt for her at that moment.

Mom turned, perhaps in surprise. She must have mistaken my intent, thinking I wanted her to play along like Millie was doing with her son, for she leaned forward and kissed me softly on my lips. I was taken completely by surprise and was shocked into stillness but when Mom’s lips stayed pressed to mine, I kissed her back. She didn’t pull away when my lips began moving on hers so I curled my arm tighter around her neck and started to really kiss her. And kiss her, and kiss her.

I lost track of time. I don’t know how long we were necking but when the drive-lin lights flicked to indicate the end of the first movie and concession time, my tongue was inside my mother’s mouth and I continued to kiss her while the credits scrolled up the screen behind me. When I relented to the gentle pressure of Mom’s hands against my chest, I realized that Mom had settled further into the door and I was leaning over her. Mom smiled sweetly at me, perhaps to show me that she wasn’t upset with me. I looked down and realized that my hand had slipped up the outside of Mom’s leg from her knee and was now underneath her skirt, though still on the outside of her thigh. I pulled back to sit upright, reluctantly dragging my hand with me. I turned to look into the backseat.