A Classic Car, In Good Running Condition

 

 
            In the morning, when Rick arrived at the ranger station, the sky was clear, and dawn was near. There was a good six inches of crunchy frozen snow on the ground, and in the parking areas. There was a set of tire tracks lit up by his headlights. “Mhm,” thought Ranger Rick.
            The tracks led up to the campground parking area, where a small, old-fashioned RV sat. Snow campers, apparently.
            Covered in the same six inches of snow, there was an old black car. It was a Buick, parked two spots over from Rick’s usual place. Rick was guessing that it was an early 1950s model. That part wasn’t a mystery, because his grandpa had driven a 1953 Buick back in Kansas. It was also black.
            He looked for tire tracks leading to the Buick. There were none.
            Rick could see no reason for it to be there. He didn’t see any footprints around it, and there were no spare people wandering around, as far as he could see.
            Right on schedule, at 7:55, Dexter appeared. He wore his dayglo orang earflap hat and carried a foil covered plate which was steaming in the cold air as he came through the door. It turned out to be a plate of those little egg and other stuff things people cook in muffin pans for breakfast. Hannah had sent them along for both Rick and Dexter’s morning snack.
            “Dexter, do you know anything about that old Buick out there?” said Rick, by way of greeting.
The savory scent drifted through the air. Hannah was an excellent cook.
            “No. I don’t know anything about it. We didn’t see it come in. I wonder whose it is?” said Dexter, setting his plate down in the kitchen by the coffee pot.
            “It’s not illegal or anything,” said Rick. “I just can’t figure it out.”
            “I wonder if they had engine trouble and had to park it somewhere?” said Dexter, looking out of the window at the old car.
            “Did you notice that there are no footprints around it? Riddle me that, boy reporter,” said Rick. He sat down at his desk with his coffee.
            “They must have parked there before it started snowing. You can eat these things out of hand. No forks needed,” said Dexter, coming out of the kitchen, doing just that.
            “We were here before it started snowing,” said Rick.
            It was a quiet, lazy day at the ranger station and in the campground. The old RV took off, the passenger waving in the general direction of the office as they drove away. The old Buick sat there. At least it did most of the day. Rick and Dexter kept checking to see if some hiker appeared, but nothing happened. No hardy soul emerged from the forest or anywhere else. No stranger seeking help came to the office door.
            Right before 5PM, Rick went to the window to take another look.
            It was gone. The crazy part was that there were no tire tracks leading out. There were only the four marks in the snow where the Buick’s tires had been, and still no footprints.
            “Hey, Dexter. It’s gone. What the hell,” said Rick.
            Dexter looked up from his phone, where he had been looking at short videos. “Huh?” he said and joined Rick at the window.
            “I know it was really there. You can see the tire prints. You saw it,” said Rick.
            “Now you see it, now you don’t! Yeah, I saw it. But now I don’t,” said Dexter.

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