Voices of: Narrator, man, woman, teenager
English (North American)
Middle Aged (35-54)
Note: Transcripts are generated using speech recognition software and may contain errors.
the car had belonged to his dad, his mom and his uncle. They all spent time in it together, but it had belonged to his father. He waited all his life word more than fishing more than Pete. More than his bike. Daniel Love, the 1965 Plymouth Valiant. He remembered how it set out behind the barn when he was a little kid. They used it as a Ford, as a base, as a clubhouse and as a hideout. He remembered when only a week or so after his grandfather died, his uncle Lance hitched the car to a rope tied around the chest of a cow and guided it into the barn. Guess is all yours now, the man told the boy. You need to fix it up. Daniel Neal wasn't near old enough to drive and yet know anything about cars, so he didn't know what his uncle Lance was talking about. But he liked the idea nonetheless, And so, for years the 1965 Plymouth Valiant set undisturbed beneath the hay locked in the corner of the bar. The car belonged in the barn. The old man was just plain mean and keeping it outside after its setting the bar. In a while, he helped his uncle Jack it up in place bricks beneath both the front and rear axles. They remove this unbeaten tires and left the wheels leaning against the wall. What hot summer winds blew across the prairie. They swirled, Hate us through light chefs in the barn and animated the floor. Sometimes it looked like the 1965 blameless Valiant roared to life, speeding without direction toward no place whatsoever. Uncle Lance knew a lot about cars, or at least he knew a lot about his old Chevy truck. He tinkered with it all the time. Daniel Neal could always tell when his uncle was planning to leave the farm on one of his mystery trips because it's been several nights out in the barn, dinking around down beneath the faded green hood of the old truck. It was one of those mouldy green, old fashioned bubble fender told Ban kind of trucks like a thing that had been around forever. Simple. Uncle Lance often said, like gravity or love. No newfangled crap getting in the way and mucking up. Smooth operation. No surprises, straightforward machinery, smooth mechanical operation It was funny how his mom never acted mad whenever Uncle Lance left, the farm should spend days in often time weeks while he was gone. Going about everyday business like nothing was different, like nothing has changed. The first time he left, which was only a few months after he first came, Daniel Neal thought Uncle Lance was gone for good. Just a spell. I imagine his mom had said. Don't get too used to the quiet. He'll be back. Do you want him to come back?
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