Chapter 7

Daddy is worse ... I’m worried. This is the first time he’s been sick since I was old enough to know what sick is.

“Dr Grost’s Office. This is Andrea. How can I help?”

“Genevieve Austin here, Andrea. Daddy is sick ... Does Dr Grost have a moment?”

“For you? Always. One moment.”

Of course he had time ... the Austins owned the land every home, business, governmental building, every road, school and sidewalk was built on ... but more important than that ... Gen was the inventor of those cool little race cars ... and Andrea wanted one ... even if she had to build the damn thing. Dr Grost was building one ... I could beat him in a race ... how cool was that?

There was that blank silent crackle that always bespoke ‘On Hold.’ Someone ought to do something about that ... recorded music, maybe. She filed that idea in her memory ... when I have time. One of the problems of being ten, almost eleven, and having a brain that never forgets ... it never forgets ... useful in school but tedious in real life.

“Good morning, Gen.”

“Doctor.”

Andrea was a good physicians assistant. She passed on what she was told.

“David is sick?”

“A week now.”

“Symptons?”

“Fever, cough ... with production, dead eyes, general all-over weakness, tender skin ... sleeps at the drop of a hat ... mid conversation and he’s somewhere else.” I said, “Oh ... and his rememberer doesn’t.”

“Distracted?”

“Asleep.”

“Will you be home about 5?”

“I was going to the Eighty.” I pouted. “I’ll be back about 4:30. The staff ... you know. I need to get going.”

“Idea for a new car?

“1926 Alfa Romeo. Wheelbase 103 inches. Track 51 inches.” I paused... 17 inch wheels and as close to 66 inch wheelbase as I can make it. I need to sketch it out.”

“I thought I might build a model T speedster.”

“Good choice ... mostly square corners and flat surfaces. The radiator shell is simple. If you keep the bustle the engine won’t be noticed.”

“Good thinking. 5 o’clock. You can take me out for dinner.”

We both laughed.

At the Eighty, Gen did the calculations, drew the car on MDF with pencil. She couldn’t make it look right at a wheelbase of 66 inches. The car looked balanced at 79. She asked Barney ... Chief Barnsley ... how set in stone was the 66 inch wheelbase.

“What do you have in mind?”

“1926 Alfa Romeo ... it looks fair at 75 inches. 76 would be better. 79 is perfect.”

“Show me.”

She had drawn an profile side view of the Alfa at a 79” wheelbase on one side of a 4x8 sheet of MDF ... on the reverse was a portrait ... head-on view ... of the car ... the rendition of the steering and axle were meticulous. On another 2x2 piece was a scale drawing of the straight 8 Alfa engine only 212 cc. The pistons were the diameter of a dime.

Barney said, “You did that today?”

“Well ... I thought about it last night.”

“What about the engine?”

“Machining exercise.”

“You’re going to build it.” A flat statement.

“Uh huh.”

“Let me query the others.”

“I have to meet Doc Grost at 5. You guys hash it out and tell me tomorrow.”

It was 4:45.

She rode her bike. She made it.