The Trip into Town

Charlie? You don't bust going up to the place this weekend? >> Uh-huh. Beth wants me to take care of the tomatoes and I can finish plastering the kitchen and get that out of the way. >> How many tomatoes you plant? >> Oh, just enough for the table, maybe a few to can. Next year when we move on out, we'll have a lot more. >> What you got there, Hal? >> The fella says sometimes the engine will start and sometimes it won't. Could be the choke. I'm hoping for a stuck float valve in the carburetor. >> I thought fixing stuck float valves with a hammer went out of style. >> Come on, Charlie. You take a few shortcuts in your time, too. If the hammer works, I can skip a carburetor overhaul and get on to another job. Use it, turn of these days what with the kids going back to school in another couple of weeks. Uh-huh. The old style way to do it. Oh, come on. Well, if the guy has any trouble, he can bring his antique in again next week. Maybe I won't be so pressed for time then. Charlie? I think as quick as I finish here, I'll skip out and eat. I may go over and pick up something for Peg's birthday, so cover for me if the boss asks, will you? Don't worry. I'll make it look as though I did an overhaul. Charlie, you know something? I like that place of yours. Yeah, I I always used to dream about living in Tahiti or somewhere. >> Uh-huh. >> But now there was the wife and the kids. You know what? I'd settle for that place you got. Growing your own food, digging your own land. And then in the fall. Charlie, do you ever rake leaves in the fall and burn them? Smell that smell. You know, I'd trade just about anything for that. Excuse me. Outside, they told me the man who worked on my truck would be in here. It was day before yesterday. A pickup. '54? There was a Farmland Booster sticker on the windshield. Did you Why? >> What's with the guy that worked on your truck? >> I would have come about this yesterday only my wife had a baby yesterday. What I mean is I needed the car the truck, I mean. We always called it a car. Pride or something. I needed the truck to get her to the city, the hospital, when the baby came. But my engine was >> Yeah, the engine wouldn't always start. >> Carburetor. >> Mhm. >> A few times I'd hit it with a hammer, but that wouldn't always work. And it never fixed the trouble for long. Anyway, I didn't want to take a chance. We knew Ellen's time was getting close. So, 4:30 tonight, I brought the car in for you fellas to fix. >> Get to the point. You want to know what you >> finish. >> Day before yesterday seemed like a good time. Ellen had an appointment with the doctor. But when I brought the car into town, your man told me I'd have to wait for 4 hours. I thought we'd celebrate a little. Ellen might not have another chance for a while. Now, I'm glad we did. Anyway, that was day before yesterday. After I picked Ellen up at the doctor's office, I took her to a restaurant for lunch. It was fine at the restaurant, just fine. The food was a real treat. It didn't cost too much, and the waitress was as nice as could be. We had a good time. Almost perfect, I guess. Anyway, it would have been except when we came to pay the check, well, the cashier probably had a lot of customers and was tired. We shouldn't have expected him to know this was a special occasion for us. We'd have felt better, though, if he'd even looked up to see we were human beings. After the restaurant, Ellen and I went to sit in a park for a while. >> I knew she was thinking the same thing I was. Along about 3:00, I picked up the truck and we started home. The trip home was a breeze. Everything worked. I put the car headed toward town to give us a little more time, just in case. In the evening, Ellen and I sat out on our steps. I guess that day was about the best we ever had. I felt peaceful and calm, as if there were no more trouble in the world. A lot of it came, I know, because I had confidence the car would work. You see, the doctor told me when things started with Ellen, they wouldn't go the way they usually do. She'd be in trouble and I'd have to get her to the hospital as fast as I could. She woke me that same night. We were both scared. This was going to be it. She dressed and I called the doctor to get him ready. Then I got some clothes on and picked Ellen up in my arms and carried her outside across the lot to where the car was. I guess I didn't need to do that, but right then I wasn't taking any chance. Not with her. It was a long way. Just as Ellen was climbing into the car, I thought of something. The lights. I'd left them on and the door was open, but I couldn't go back. Other things were more important. Then when I started into the car myself, I got scared. What if the engine wouldn't run? I must have been excited. I must have killed it myself. I said a little prayer. I knew if anything happened, Ellen wouldn't get to the hospital. I couldn't carry her not 20 miles. And there wouldn't be any traffic on those roads at that hour of the night. We were really alone. I sure knew how much a fellow depends on a car sometimes. And the people who make it. And the people who fix it. We got to the hilly country. I kept telling myself we'd make it if I could just keep from killing the engine. But the fact that we had an old car, a real old car, kept going through my mind. All my life I've been hearing how there's no quality, how people don't build things the way they used to. Cars especially. They build poor quality on purpose. Maybe it was true. Maybe you fellows tried, but all you could do was patch the engine so it'd work temporarily. We came to the level road out past the old cemetery. I got through the hills all right. But I wondered who it was worse for. Ellen, because whatever was going to happen would happen to her. Or me, because I was responsible for her. Detour. I should have remembered. I knew that detour. I knew how far out of the way it'd take us. I just driven it that afternoon. I told Ellen we better try cutting across the back road. We could hit the highway near the bridge that way. Ellen gave her okay. I think she did. And we started on. The ruts were deeper than I thought. I didn't know what the jarring might do to Ellen. I worried about tires, springs, everything. But most of all, I was afraid the car would be shaken in some way that would make the engine stop. The poor quality thing, it was on my mind. All at once we came to Well, somebody had been digging a drainage ditch across that old road. I yelled at Ellen. I told her to hang on. We'd have to hit the other side full force so as not to risk stalling when we came up the steep bank. By the time we got to the ditch, we were traveling pretty fast. We ripped on down to the bottom, no trouble. We started up the other side, then I felt the car start to slow. I pressed the gas pedal harder. That's when it happened. Dead. Foolish things a person does. I leaned forward as if that would keep us from rolling down again. I pressed the starter. Nothing happened. Nothing. I could hear Ellen give a little sob. I tried the starter again. Nothing. Ellen didn't move. I pressed the starter once more. Nothing. Nobody will ever know how I felt. A husband who couldn't help his wife. I knew then you guys hadn't been honest. I couldn't leave her alone and go look for help. The highway was too far for her to walk. It was hopeless. Ellen thought of something. Hitting the carburetor like I'd done before. It might work. It had a few times. It was a chance anyhow. Otherwise, we were whipped. I had the rock up ready to hit when Ellen called. >> Dan. >> I went over to see what she wanted. She pointed to the ignition. The key wasn't turned on all the way. I don't know how it happened. Maybe my knee might have hit the key when we took the last bump. I pressed the starter. The engine caught. The engine caught right away. I tell you it didn't take me long to get out of there and head toward the highway. My confidence came back. It poured all through me like water. And I felt good. I knew you'd done a real job and we were safe. Nothing bothered me the rest of the way. Not a thing. I was sure we would make it. >> Driving into town today to see Ellen and the little boy. I kept going over in my mind how if I ever give up what I'm doing now and had a chance to work for Chevrolet, building them selling them fixing them I'd always have last night on my mind. >> Is something wrong with your truck now? Is that why you're here? >> I came to thank you for knowing how much a car means in a person's life and for doing your job right. When a person's been flimflammed by so many places, he appreciates well >> Thanks for coming in, son. Good luck to you and your family. Hope your house is okay when you got back that night. >> Well, that worked, DIDN'T IT? >> NO, IT DIDN'T WORK. DIDN'T WORK AT ALL. I have never preached before, Hal, but I'm going to preach now. I gave that carburetor the overhaul it needed while you were out shopping or whatever you were doing. Why did I do it? For you? To save you? No, sir, not for you. I did it because I got an awful lot of pride in my work. Cuz I'm jealous of my trade. Nothing's going to discredit me or my trade not if I can help it. We keep them rolling, make no mistake about that. 74 million cars and trucks and hardly anybody ever says to us, "You did a good job, Hal or Charlie." But whether they do or not doesn't make any important difference. I feel the way I do because of myself. I want to see cars and trucks on the road and know that I'm one of the guys who keeps them rolling. Without me or the rest of the men in my trade, there couldn't be any United States as we know it. Any power, any pleasure, any full life not as we know it. I'm important, Hal. I aim to stay important. I know more than regular people do about cars. They trust me as an expert with a car they have to have. The car they've got to have in order to work and live. When I finally do retire and move out to my place, I want to sit back and tent. Not be ashamed that I let down people who trusted me. Not dread to meet somebody because guilt was hanging over me. Well, that's all, Hal. I'll quit preaching now. >> If a fellow does get a chance to retire, guess he'll have time to think. >> A fellow has time to think always, Hal. He can't not think. And there is the whole trouble. When that kid walked in here, you were thinking. You know you were. I know it, too, because I could see your thoughts right on your face. He trusted you. And you let him down. You dreaded seeing him again. That goes on every hour of the day. Thinking does, I mean. And there's no way to stop it, not for anybody. The bosses, the the salesmen, the cashier, the things they've done to other people, good or bad, are always on their minds. >> Come on, let's get back to work. We're losing money.