Wanna Take A Ride?

 

 
            A soft cool rain was falling. It was almost like slightly particulate mist, somewhere in between, but heavy enough to fall. It was a dark, moonless night. The only light source was a single yard light like a streetlight. The light was almost orange, so sodium probably, Maurice thought.
            He was several miles north of town, and a couple of miles from the freeway. It was night and raining. He was tired, really burnt out from bumping along old style like a hobo. He didn’t feel much like howling at the moment.
            Howlers can fast, but it had been a long time since the last layover. The tacos were a fond memory. Thirst had his attention too. He dropped to hands and knees and lapped some rainwater from a puddle. It tasted just a little of diesel.
            When Maurice stood and stretched, he looked around himself more carefully. He had quite a way to go, and he wasn’t sure how he was going to get to the forest. Sure, he could walk, but Maurice was way out of his element. He didn’t know which way to go even if he did start walking.
            The place was mostly deserted, but there was something in the shadow of an office building. It picked up and reflected some of that orange light. Someone was parked there in a 76 year old Buick, as black as the night around it except for the grille. It shone in the dark like great chrome teeth, a smile.

            “No way,” said Marice, to no one in particular.
            A ridge of rough gray hair rose up along his spine. A chill passed through his body. But a True Howler is brave, and very snoopy, so he padded quietly over to the dark corner where the old car waited.
            At first it appeared to be empty, but in a moment he saw that someone sat in the driver's seat with her head bowed. It was Mable, as sure as the world. And she was having a little nap.
            He padded, barefoot you remember, over to the passenger’s side and tried the door. It was already unlocked. So, he opened it carefully and looked in. The driver’s seat was empty. For the second time in ten minutes, the gray hair on his spine rose up. He stood there holding the door handle, dumbfounded.
            “You’re not the only one who knows that little vanishing spell, Maurice!” she said. Then just as before, there sat Mable. “I wondered if it would work on you too!”
            Maurice later swore he saw a little dusty stuff like fairy dust blow away and vanish as she materialized.
            “Get in and shut the door, Pilgrim,” she said. “It’s damp out there, ya know!”
            “Hello, Ma’am! I am surprised to see you here!” Maurice managed to say, though his mouth felt dry again, and his tongue felt sticky. In spite of that, he got in and sat, closing the door behind himself.
            “Like to take a ride, Pilgrim?” She was grinning. He wasn’t sure that she was entirely real, but she looked friendly, and really what else was he going to do right then.
            “Yes, Ma’am, I would like to take a ride. Do you know where I’m going?” said Maurice. Maurice was making an attempt to determine where the floor was in this picture.
            “Oh, you’ll tell me won’t cha,” said Mable. She started the engine. It sounded like something from on old black and white film. The heater started to blow some cold air, so she had been parked there long enough for the Buick to cool down.
            “There’s a sack in the back seat. Just reach around and it’s right there. I brought you a little midnight snack,” she said, as the Buick started to roll dead slow out of its parking spot and head for the exit from this place.
            Maurice threw his arm over the back of the seat and reached around, and he found a brown paper sack just within his reach. He pulled it up front, and opened it. Inside were two heavy roast beef and horseradish sandwiches on homemade bread, and a bottle of chocolate milk. Even if it was some kind of crazy hoodoo picnic, Maurice was too hungry to worry about it.
            “Aw, thanks, Mable. Say, I didn’t see you by a lake in Kansas City, did I?” he asked between wolfish bites.
            “Never been to Kansas City. You like it there?” she said.
            “Yeah, sure. I wasn’t there very long,” he said. In the comfort of that deeply cushioned bench seat, he was getting sleepy again. This whole trip felt dreamlike. Looking outside he saw only darkness, and the rain splattering the windshield.
            He sat forward and looked downward. There were a few streetlights and houses way down below the Buick. He could see what looked like a great dim body of water off in the distance. ‘Surely this is a dream he thought,’ as he went soundly to sleep.
            And just like the boat in the nursery rhyme, all during the rest of the night until sunrise the old Buick captained by the old lady sailed the skies over the forests, hills, rivers, and towns until it came to rest at a parking place at a wide spot on Highway 20.
            “Wake up, Pilgrim, you’re home,” said Mable.
            Blinking, and nodding for a moment, Maurice woke suddenly. “How did you know?” he said wonderingly.
            “Oh, you told me,” said Mable, with a wink.
            “Home?” said Maurice.
            “I think so, don’t you?” said Mable Green.
            Mable rolled down her window, just as the sun came up, lighting the forest and the highway. And with a great flashing of black wings, Maeve drifted down out of the firs to sit on the door beside Mable.
            “Thanks, Mable. Good morning to you!” said Maeve.
            “And a good morning to yourself, Maeve,” said Mable. “I see a fine day coming up!”
            “Indeed,” nodded Maeve.
            “Maybe I’ll see you later sometime, Maurice. It was good to meet you!” said Mable as Maurice climbed out of the old car.
            The forest floor, so cool and damp and springy felt so good on his feet, the air smelled so clean and wild and free, the sun made everything sparkle so brilliantly that Maurice just couldn’t help himself. He howled as he had never howled before in all of his life. It rang and rang over the land, and even into the Great Forest. All the ears for miles around heard and noted that a True Howler was among them.
            When he turned back to speak to Mable, she and the Buick were as gone as if they had never been there. He turned his big gray head one way, looking up the highway and then the other way, looking down towards the town, but it was utterly empty. He sighed a big sigh, and lifted his eyebrows, amazed.
            “Come on, Maurice. He’s waiting,” said Maeve from a branch at about eye level for a Howler. “You know he heard all of that!”
            Maeve floated into the forest and Maurice followed her in.

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