Let Your Heart Drive (2 page)

“Weather forecast for tonight: Dark. Continued dark overnight,

with widely scattered light by morning.”

–George Carlin

Three months later
–

The dramatic
sputtering engine rattles and clanks as the car rolls to a dying stop. On the first ring, he answers. I calmly listen to his moans and complaints of why this is a bad idea. “Yes Dad… I know Dad, well luckily the rest area came into view just in the nick of time,” I lie. “The check engine light started flashing furiously at me as if I caused the hot steam to fume from the hood.” I give him my normal response as he tells me he’s contacting the local authorizes.

“Dad… Dad… I’m twenty-two not five. I think I can handle this... All right,
all right
do whatever makes you feel better. You know, I could be gone by the time they get here. Yes, I know the difference between the side of the road and a rest stop... So when did you start tracking me on my cell… I can turn that off you know. All right, I’m on the side of the road just outside of Needles, California… Yeah, I know it’s hot.  Dad, we’ve talked about this already and I need to go. I can’t sit here all day. I’m going now, yeah, bye Dad.”   

I have been driving for nearly five hours and I have successfully broken down. This better not be another sign. I have high hopes for this road trip. So, let me see if I can’t salvage something good out of this. I call the roadside assistance number for the car rental company… waiting. I slip my shades away from my eyes and adjust them on top of my head.

I flicker a minuscule glance at my mace peeking out from the console. A safety measure that I promised my dad I would have with me at all times. With him being a LAPD officer, I guess it’s the least I can do. Otherwise, he may be in the seat right next to me. I breathe out a content sigh thanking God when a voice comes in crystal clear…  

It’s a very deep and attractive husky voice that pipes through the phone as I hear, “Thank you for calling roadside assistance, my name is Trey and I’m here to help, before we get started do you have your rental agreement number?”

I fumble with a slew of papers stashed in the glove compartment, none of which say anything about an agreement number. “And where is this elusive number hiding?” I question.

“If you count down to line six there will be one listed as an RA number.”

“Not sure if I can remember, but let me try, one, two, three, four, five, and six. Well there it is, all small and hard to read, just the way I like it,” I joke and hear a deep slightly amused grunt or a very stifled laugh. “Okay, LA7688366.”

I hear quick animated machinegun-like typing on the other end and then a question, “Is this Ms. Noelle?”

“I’m Sinead Noelle, but you can call me Sin.” I grin as I tease him, “I knowit’slame, but I’ve been Sin all my life.” I can’t help but smirk even bigger, only my closest friends call me that and a small number of presumptuous guys. Only dead awkward silence stretches through the line but just for a second or two.

“Okay
Sin
, how can I help you today?” I can easily hear muffled talking echoing from the background, wow, I’m impressed this is a really crystal clear connection despite the fact that I’m stranded in the middle of nowhere.

“Well, Trey, may I call you Trey or have you shortened your name too?” Silence again. I’m not going to let this overheating car get me bummed out, but I better tone it down a bit before Trey thinks I’m prank calling him. I do need his help so that I can get things straight and get back to the Mother Road. “So, I have this car that is overheating on the side of the road in Needles, California. What can you do to help me?”

“I am really sorry that this happened, Sin, and I will gladly set up a service to bring you another car.”

“Okay? I have another question for you... do you know how long this could take?”

“You are about a hundred and fifteen miles away from our nearest location, which is Vegas. I would expect this to take between three to four hours to get a new car to you.”

“I’m sorry… how many hours? Hey, Trey, hang on, there is a cop knocking on my window.” I sit the phone in the passenger’s seat as I roll down the window.

There standing next to the car is a California Highway Patrol officer sporting his neat-as-a-pin khaki uniform with dark shades and that really cool hat they wear that reminds me of a Canadian Mounty hat. “Are you Ms. Noelle?”

“You already know my name? My dad sure works fast. How can I help you…
Officer Hernandez
?” I say reading his polished brass name tag.

“Please step out of the car ma’am.” I notice that this is not a request, it’s a statement, the exact same tone my dad uses. I grab my phone and open the door. The temperature is spiking well over a hundred and the officer says in a cool and routine voice, “Follow me.”

I walk with him, my phone in hand as we head back to his cruiser. I really never understood why cops call it that, but my dad has always called them that since as far back as I can remember. I hop in to this cockpit of sorts and the air-cooled temperature is an instant relief. Radio traffic spits out codes of letters and a combobulation of numbers that seem to make perfect logic to any cop. The laptop mounted on a tray displays my tag number and the fact that this is a rental car from California.

“Ms. Noelle, we got a call from a LAPD Officer Noelle, I assume he’s your father, is that correct?”

Smiling I answer, “The one and only.”

“You do know how dangerous the heat is out here? I have been tasked with making sure you are safe. What is wrong with your vehicle?”

“Overheated.”

“The rental car company has no offices in town and I’m pretty sure it will be a while for them to get here, have you called them?” I hold up my cell and jiggle it at him.  “Good, then I will take you to the Colorado River Inn, it’s a Best Western, just down this road here.” He points a finger straight ahead with his hand resting on the steering wheel and continues, “that way we can get you out of this heat. And Ms., I don’t know your father but this call came in from my Sergeant, who is out on another call right now. So, let’s get your bags and get you checked in.”

I take the hint to get my tail moving, I jump back out into the oven-like heat and it hits me hard, I didn’t realize how hot it really is. I pop the trunk to the red Mustang Convertible and go to tuck my phone in my back pocket when I realize that Trey may still be on the line.

I put my phone to my ear and ask, “Trey, oh my God, are you still there?”

He laughs and answers, “Yeah, I am, it’s against company policy for me to hang up on a customer, especially since she is stranded in the middle of nowhere California.”

I chuckle at his words as I grab a bag. “I like you, Trey. You seem pretty easy going, you know, laid back.”

I think I sense a smile through the phone before he states, “O
kay
, I take it that we will be delivering a car to the Colorado River Inn, located at twenty-three, seventy-one, west Broadway Street, Needles, California.”

“Um… yeah sure, if you say so. I guess you got all the dirty details. Hey, while I’m being escorted by California’s finest I’m going to hang up and I’ll call you back once I check in. Then you can tell me all the specifics on when my new car will arrive here, in the middle of ‘nowhere’ California.”

“Ms. Noelle, that will be fine, I will set up this service while you do that, again, my name is Trey and thank you for calling the roadside department.”

“Bye, oh, and by the way thanks, Trey.” I press end on my cell, I’m not quite sure why, but I have to smile at his comment.  He’s thanking me for calling roadside, I know it’s part of his ‘protocol’ and he sounds so professional and all, but at the same time
almost
yawningly repetitious. I begin to wonder if anyone has ever truly thanked him for doing his job. Back in the cruiser, I watch the palm trees streak by with the parched desert wondering in my head which bag I had crammed my camera in.

We pull into the enclosed entrance, driving right over a massive Route 66 logo, painted white on the hard cracked concrete. I collect my things and give credit to Officer Hernandez for not cautioning me on the dangers of a young naïve female traveling alone. My dad and I have already been through the drill and I’m not actually traveling alone, apparently the entire state of California is now on high alert and making sure I’m tucked in safe and sound for the night. I step out of the police car, walk around to the trunk and retrieve my other bag. I send Officer Hernandez a small toodle-oo wave and thank him.

I don’t hear him drive off until I pass through the automated double doors into the spotless lobby of the hotel. My guess is that he’s reporting to his Sargent that his mission is complete.

I turn to the prim and smiling receptionist at the front desk. “Hi, I need a room please…”

-

As soon as the door closes, I let my hair down and kick off my grunge plaid Keds. The room is small, charming and thankfully, I’m on the lower floor. It has the basic necessities, microwave, refrigerator and a coffee maker. I’m good. I toss my overstuffed bags on the bed and buckle down and dig through my assortment of clothes. I’m not the best clothes coordinator and it shows as I pull out jeans, T-shirts, flat irons, a crumpled bag of chips and finally my Sony camcorder. I can see my dad giving me that unsatisfactory look of his, like I broke some sacred commandment that makes it unlawful to pack chips, clothes and an expensive piece of electronic equipment together. I like a certain level of mild chaos, my dad likes none.

It’s strange to not have my phone light up every ten seconds with messages from my ex and all my friends, but this trip I’m on is kind of like backpacking through Europe, a rite of passage or a pilgrimage. Of course, I’m not backpacking and this isn’t Europe, and I’m okay with that. My real friends get it and the others, well, they don’t count. I excavate my tripod from another bag and set up the camcorder. I have decided that I’ll do a video blog of my road trip, once I finish each day, I’ll post it and then the world can share all of this Route 66 novelty with me.

Before I shower or start my vlog I call the roadside number. I frown a little when I hear the sound of an older man’s voice. “Hi this is Sinead Noelle, I have a rental car that has broken down… and I was just wondering—”

“Ms. Noelle, please hold one moment,” the man interrupts, and I’m suddenly listening to the weirdest on-hold music I have ever heard in my life. It’s enough to cause a sensation that I’ve landed in a frighteningly funky world. Pleasantly Groovy isn’t even remotely close to how I would describe it.

“Hi, Sin?” I instantly know the husky voice and my mood is promptly better. He has one of those voices that penetrates right through you when he talks. A voice that can hold your attention kind of like Denzel Washington or Jude Law.

“Hey there Trey,” I laugh softly at the fact I was connected directly to him without having to ask. “How did you know I called back?”

“Oh, I told the crew that I was working on this service for you and that if you called back to let me know. The guy that answered the phone is sitting right next to me, so, here I am, with the service complete,
but
…”

“Oh my God, you did not just use that word on me. Do you know how horrid I think that word is? It’s the keyhole to all evil and bad news. I started a petition to get that word removed from the English language.”

I hear him chuckle. “I apologize about that, and I’ll try to not use that forbidden word again. How many signatures do you have?”

“One, but I’m going to get you to sign it, so now I have two.”

“Sure, give me a couple of days to drive and I can sign it, not a problem. I will tell you though, when I used that word it wasn’t necessarily in a negative sense. Not at all.”

“Oh, really? Okay, I’m listening.”

“Las Vegas does not have any more Mustangs available, much less a convertible, so I spoke to Mark, he’s the manager there and he just unloaded a brand new 2015 Toyota Hybrid. It has only fifteen miles on it and they are putting it in service right now for you.”

“Well, Trey. I am speechless. Thank you.”