writer's cluv

wind blew steadily on the windowpane, bringing about an almost un-canny urge for rain or anything that would break the monotony of it. Trees, almost buckling with intensity. Wildlife was, virtually deadened. Thunder crashed down with amazing force, causing trees to fall and forest animals to scurry in all directions. The soil was beginning to erode, bringing with it more than half of the land, surrounding my small cabin. At the front of our property, we were astounded to find that, under the wind-blown soil; possibly from years gone by, was an apparent city; the constituents of which were petrified, perfect images of a busy garage and gas station. Although we hurried to begin the renovations, we found that the gas wouldn’t pump, being trapped in the dirt , with no apparent way out. Maybe, they thought, there was something they could create, with the remains of the old station. In the store at the station, were the skeletal remains of a guard dog. It didn’t appear; as though, anyone had tried to flee. It was as if they knew what was happening and were willfully waiting to die. The shop at the station was selling tires for an unheard of price.
The condition of the attendants, being long-gone, meant that this station hadn’t run for quite a number of years There were also old cars, meaning that this must be a glimpse from years past. The silt on the cars was settled, creating a picture of a perfect station. In the garage of the place, was a 1926 Dodge Desoto, waiting to be fixed.
The attendant, Terrance was a good businessman, and he thought his mechanic skills would combine well with his expertise in running a store. This is where he encountered some difficulty. He posessed very few mathematical skills. These skills would be needed, if he ran the store. Sharpening his skills, he decided to pick up an Algebra course. So, he enrolled in basic algebra, at the local Junior college. He would attend Mondays, Wednesdays and Fridays, for twelve weeks. He was excited about the idea of learning, but it was going to be hard; because of his work schedule at the station.. After quite some time, he decided to tell his best girl friend about his predicament and that they were looking for a receptionist at the station. Since he knew that she was capable, he recommended that his boss consider her.

Guess what, Luc? She replied, saying, “Oh no! What kind of trouble did you get into, this time?” His response; although, intended to be soothing,, was very matter of fact. He said, you see, Luc’, I registered at the local school; although I still have my job at the station.
She inquired, “Isn’t that a little much?” Pratt said that he thought it would be all right and that it felt good to have a full schedule. This only leant to her feelings of disapproval.. Matt decided to see if he could salvage the old Desoto, deserted in the corner of the Pation. He decided, recommending Lucy for the extra hours at the station He had ordered some parts, from back east, to assist him, a really cool Steering- wheel cover and a knob for the gear shift. He was truly excited about the idea of driving around in a vintage, collector’s item. He told Lucy that he was elated at the prospect of driving the old Desoto around town
.
Without his boss’s awareness, he had secretly been collecting miscellaneous parts for the Desoto in the corner. It was going to be hard, but he knew that he had good connections in the car industry, so he strived to renovate the Dodge Desoto, ST. That night, he called a shop back east, to locate a new alternator. The Dodge; not only had damage to the body, it had major engine malfunction. The alternator would; either, need replacing, or it would need to be analyzed, one piece at a time.; while, the body of the car was relatively clean. Meanwhile’ he wanted to finish his work on the engine and its timed parts; such as, the windshield wipers and the blinkers. He was surprised to find that the wipers still worked, perfectly; while, the blinkers were a bit out of sequence.
This was something that he would have to; further investigate


Desoto aside, he had to give his full attention to the station. It was his number one priority. Terrance was such a good, life long friend that he couldn’t let him down. Jus then, a limo, carrying some celebrities, pulled in. “Care to fill’er?” “Sure!” said the voice from inside. So Terrance, filling the tank and, in so doing, noticing some streaks on the windshield,



wiped; not only the shield, the blades to. He wanted to be sure these guys were satisfied. “Need your tires aired?” The man inside the car, said, “ Yes, but I don’t want to feel every bump in the road?” Understanding well, Terrance filled the tires, eagerly. He, himself, didn’t like feeling every bump in the road., so he was cautious not to overfill them. The car was ready to be driven. The problem was, the gas in the small tank had evaporated, leaving only fumes.


TeRrance thought, he must

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