Never the Same IC#24 Kirk: Noncommittal

Racing practice weekend loomed just days away. Kirk should have been exhilarated to properly prepare but instead spent time with red-haired Farrah?

 

It goes without saying that Kirk was Never the Same after fearing he might become a red smear out in the field while baling hay the previous weekend. This last time baling hay with his father had proved to be even worse and tiresome than all the previous times in his young adult life. Working the farm for the rest of his life was not something that Kirk aspired to, but he didn’t have any tangible stimulating goal in his life, so what did he aspire to? A stock car driver? He hadn’t done that yet, thus he didn’t know how that might pan out. He’d been a mechanic in training and now a mechanic altogether for four years, but he couldn’t say that a potential future of bustin’ knuckles and being elbow deep in grease was something Kirk aspired to.

What did Kirk’s future hold?

 

Sunday night and Kirk remained exhausted after two days of hard labor baling hay. He personally handled each and every bale twice. That said, nearly a thousand bales had been made and put away! No wonder Kirk felt tired.

Afterwards, Kirk’s mother prepared a huge meat and potato dinner which Kirk put away like gangbusters. Of course, she served cake after the main dinner which Kirk had no problem scarfing up. His mother announced after dinner that Kirk’s sister had called and passed on a message to tell him that Mike wanted him to come over. She said it sounded urgent, but Kirk didn’t feel being urgent about anything at all, so he just let it go. Whatever it was, it could wait until Monday.

Being responsible as he was, Kirk felt he had to go to work on Monday after ditching work on Friday. As always, he experienced a sense of guilt about taking the time off literally announcing his absence that morning. Another day at work came and went. He saw Mike but they didn’t talk so Mike didn’t reveal what was so urgently important from the night before that had been passed along by Kirk’s mother. Mentally, Kirk shrugged over the non-disclosure at work. He couldn’t say he was enthused about working on the stock car that evening even though he knew he’d have push to get everything done in less than a week. He heavily bore guilt over not spending time with sweet, red-haired Farrah, but what could he do? A man’s gotta’ do what a man’s gotta’ do, so the saying goes, but that didn’t relinquish Kirk’s emotional burden.

After a hard day’s work, Kirk moseyed on home and hung out until his mother had dinner on the table. Meat and potatoes with a vegetable was the usual fare on the farm as with most working farms though, this family farm wasn’t a real farm in the sense of the term. Anyway, even though he seemed lackadaisical about getting to work on his stock car, the list of things he needed to do scrolled through his brain on a constant loop. Yes, he was responsible for those tasks and work he was assigned at work, but as the stock car went, well, that was his assigned burden and it just didn’t carry all that much weight with Kirk. (See what I did there?)

After dinner, still sore and tired from all the haying over the weekend and suffering the throes of the heavy meal, Kirk did consider just crashing on the couch and taking a snooze. He managed to get to his feet, go out the door, and headed over to Mike’s garage to see if he could get anything done on his car even though his motivation had long since waned since Friday.

Pulling into the driveway, Kirk became instantly and completely blown away by what he surveyed sitting outside the garage. There the two shiny metalflake stock cars sat but had been completely transformed! Kirk didn’t expect them to look the way they did. The sign painter had been there over the weekend! Immediately parking, Kirk got out and strode to his car. There on the side of the car was a large, perfect number three in black and shadowed in red. The workmanship undoubtedly perfect done by a professional painter.

Of course, Chuck Westchild’s name and the dealership’s names were plastered across the hood, of course facing the speedway stands. Kirk paused when he saw “Uncle Kirk” painted in fine script on the roof above the window. He hadn’t discussed his nickname on the car with anyone, but nonetheless there it was. Also, whether by the sign painter or by Mike, black painted trim encircled the windows which cut back on the previously overwhelming silver paint job. Kirk suddenly had a jolt of adrenaline about taking the better-looking car to the rack putting on the edge of a panic attack. Clearing his head, Kirk suddenly noticed what Mike was doing with a stepladder next to the other car, Mike’s car. 

There Mike had marked out a large square on the top of his silver car. Just inside the marks, Mike was drilling small holes about two inches part.

“What’s going on up there?” Kirk asked.

“Putting on a vinyl top,” Mike said as he drilled another hole.

“A vinyl top?” Kirk couldn’t comprehend such a thing on a stock car.

“Sure, the cars will look s**t hot with vinyl tops,” Mike said and Kirk cringed. “Look inside the car.”

Kirk saw a sheet of foam rubber covered with black Naugahyde. Those poor Naugas giving up their hides for something like that what a shame. Kirk pulled it out and saw it was cut to fit the square Mike had marked out. It had matching red piping around the outside. Very stylish, but for a stock car? He assumed his sister had done the sewing work. He didn’t want to say what he thought aloud.

“Wow, the numbers and trim really look great on the silver paint.”

“Came out perfect I think.” Mike said still drilling away.

Kirk peeked inside the car roof as Mike’s drill bit poked through again. Tiny pinpoints of light shone through half way around the inside of the roof with another added as he watched. What could Kirk say? A pair of stock cars to race in lower class competition with high dollar metalflake paint jobs, professional lettering and sporting vinyl top/sunroofs. Who’d think of such a thing. Kirk realized that there was more money in cosmetic touches than things to help the car go fast. Besides that, there was Mike’s claim that you’re not a racer unless you’ve rolled over, i.e. a member of the upside down club of racers! Undoubtedly, it will be voiced in the pits that the vinyl tops are there to provide cushioning when the car is the wrong side up in a crash.  

Unbelieving the way things go sometimes, Kirk went over to his car to survey/reacquaint himself with what needed to be done in the one short week. Mike had welded up the driveshaft that needed installing. Kirk hoped his measurements ended up correct, so he started there. Not a big job, he got that done in half a hour with the measurement right on perfect! Sometimes Kirk got it right.

During the way, he saw that the hood had just been set on the car, so he needed to figure out a good, secure method of attachment. From before with his radiator install, he knew an added brace between the radiator mounts would work and couple bolts in the back would hold those edges down. Can’t have the hood flying off in front of a crowd now can we? He paused. Yeah, he would have to drill four holes through the nicely painted hood. It had to get done. He first had to find the bolts, nuts, and washers.  

Then he had to line up the bolts, carefully, very carefully drilled the holes through the thick paint and then the metal. Then, almost blindly spot welded the bolts onto the firewall and the radiator brace. With that, he felt, he had done enough and figured that if he attempted anything else he’d screw it up. Oh, in the meantime while he worked on the required “crucial” tasks like making the car move, Mike put a padded vinyl sunroof top on his car. He didn’t say anything because it was a car given to him essential Mike’s so ownership remained  a gray area so he thought it wasn’t his place to say anything. He ambled out to his beloved Firebird and leisurely drove home. 

Going home, despite it being late or maybe because it was, his mother waited for him and asked if he wanted anything to eat. Kirk mumbled no with a shake of his head, but opened the refrigerator anyway. He grabbed out a gallon of milk and fixed himself a bowl of cereal. He felt tired, dead tired and wondered what the hell his future held. He shook his head for his own benefit of total uncertainly. He had those things he wanted to do such as spending time with Farrah and hanging out, driving fast in the Firebird with or without her, finishing his van project, but those other things like work and stock car building remained in the way. Kirk felt troubled, irresolute.

The next day unfolded such as all other weekdays for Kirk. Waking up, sucking down a coffee and eating a bowl of cereal before heading out to work. He worked through the day taking in the usual customer complaints with associated time constraints in stride. Going home he introspectively took a deep breath and let out a sigh. He wasn’t happy even though he should have been very happy because he had it made more or less at home and poised on the threshold of what he had dreamed of doing all through his teens. Trouble was, Kirk just wasn’t feeling it. The thrill. The expectation. The exhilaration of driving a stock car. What had happened to him? Why did he become indifferent about racing now that he would probably undoubtedly race? Was he scared?

At home again after work, Kirk didn’t want to go work on the stock car. Just didn’t feel like it. Maybe he didn’t have the drive, the commitment of having his own car even though the deadline to have the car ready loomed merely days away. Kirk informed his mother that he wasn’t staying home for dinner.

Kirk decided to call Farrah, not talking to her for days. Thinking back when he had a relationship, a friendship with Babe, he’d talk to Babe on the phone every single night. Nonetheless, Babe did most of the talking about her exciting life. Anyway, Kirk still wasn’t much of a phone talker, but he still should have called Farrah on a more regular basis seeing she was his main squeeze. Maybe he needed her warm, caring personality, her warm, slim body, and her warm, tender lips on his. He dialed her home phone.

“Hey, evening Missus T this is Kirk, is ah, Farrah there? I don’t remember if she worked tonight,” Kirk said. Parents of the girls Kirk dated generally liked Kirk, thinking he was some kind of righteous dude, but he wasn’t sure what Missus T thought of him. 

“Sure Kirk, she’s here. Hold on, I’ll get her.” Kirk let out his breath that he was holding. He waited a minute until he heard the phone receiver picked up.

“Hiya, Kirk!” said Farrah, all bubbly and vivacious.

“Hey, Farrah. I thought to give you ring to see if you were home.”

“How’s your car coming? Your big day is coming up, right? How exciting!”

“Yep, next weekend is inspection and practice day. Ought to be something, but, but you should see the car now�"big, neat professionally painted numbers and my nickname on the roof. Very nice!”

“Wow! Uncle Kirk on the roof? Your very own race car! You must be soooo excited! Wow, driving a stock car on the track. So proud of you Kirk! Can you even stand the wait, the anticipation?”

“Weeelllll, I guess,” Kirk said rather deadpan. He really felt guilty for not working on the car. “I have so much to do on it before next weekend.”

“Will you be ready?”  Farrah said. “Oh, you need to get back to it, I’ll let you go, then.”  

“No, no!” Kirk said rather stridently. “I called to see if you were free tonight�"to go out.”

“Ummm, yes, I’m free tonight, but I don’t want to keep you from getting the car done.”

“Oh, don’t feel that way, Farrah. I need a break. Maybe eat something fast and see a movie, maybe?”

“Sounds good with me, but are you sure?”

“Positive. See you in about 45?”

“Okay, I’ll be ready.”

“See you!”

“See you, bye!”

Kirk washed up quickly and dressed in his usual attire which was pretty much the same as his work around home attire which was well-worn button fly bell bottoms with fringed cuffs and a plaid flannel shirt. Really looking forward to seeing Farrah, having her close, and most likely sharing kisses with her warm soft lips enticed Kirk to hurry, but he knew not to show up too early. He took a quick look at the movie listings in the newspaper laying there on the kitchen table. He decided to give the Firebird a quick once over interior cleaning and while killing time, he wandered out to cast an eye on his van renovation that had been in static status since spending his time on the stock car. There it sat with an odd colored driver’s door and that side front in a state of repair though, as Kirk surmised, not that far off from being completed.

 Maybe this summer I can finish you, Kirk thought. If I live through stock car racing!

He fired off the Firebird and headed out. The trip took him about twenty minutes which put him right on time. He pulled in Farrah’s driveway and went around back. Apparently, Farrah had been watching and ready because she popped out the door just as he turned off the car’s ignition.

Cue: “Cinnamon Girl” https://youtu.be/Ck_MfAdmTeg

Stopped in his tracks, Kirk was taken aback by Farrah after not seeing her in a couple weeks. Dressed in matching cinnamon top and a short, very short skirt with her red hair, he thought Farrah looked gorgeous. They approached each other and embraced. Kirk thought she felt soft, warm and smelled delicious like some sort of aromatic exotic flower. They pulled apart smiled at one another and kissed for a brief moment. Farrah let out a sigh like she had been holding her breath.

“You look�"”

“Nice to�"” They spoke over one another and laughed.

“Go first,” Kirk said, with a gesture she couldn’t see because he still held her.

“Nice to see you, Kirk!” She said.

“And you, you’re, ah, pretty, no you’re beautiful tonight.”

“Nothing special, but thanks, Kirk, you soon to be national stock car racer champion!” She said holding him away and beaming him with those penetrating mesmerizing green eyes.

Kirk caught his breath and grimly smiled. “Well, I don’t know about that�"We’ll see. Come on, let’s go.”

They walked hand in hand to the car, and he opened the passenger door for Farrah. She got in and immediately slid over to sit in the middle on the metal-topped console not the most comfortable way to ride, but Kirk loved it when she sat next to him shoulder to shoulder. When Farrah felt especially amorous, she’d slide her hand up on the back of his neck to tickle a bit which drove Kirk crazy. He loved her slim legs stretched out to passenger side floor, all pretty and freckled just like that girl Lorelei he had a crush on back in junior high school. Though that episode Kirk would rather forget.

Farrah asked Kirk all about how the car looked, what he had done and what else he needed to do. She was surprised when he told her that the car was the bright shiny silver metalflake. She carefully imparted that a silver race car sounded unique or perhaps unusual. Kirk had to agree with her. He filled in the details, telling her that car looked better, more like a real stock car with the added black trim, numbers, and lettering. He didn’t let on his dismay over the sponsor advertisement or the black vinyl top Mike had installed.

After filling in all the blanks about the car for Farrah, Kirk thought it would be polite to ask about her work and what else she’d been doing.

Farrah told him that there had been a heartbreaking accident where a whole family of four were brought into the hospital. They were all bad off, she told him without details, but soon after admitted the mother had died. Kirk saw and heard in Farrah’s voice that the situation had deeply affected her. He really thought that the medical field of work must be a seriously disturbing profession. She went on with other more mundane situations at the hospital. Kirk, eager to get off that particular subject, asked her what she had been doing with her time off. Apparently just working around the house, the garden and going out with her older sister. The last acknowledgement set off warning bells in Kirk’s memory banks because he knew the sister from high school and had been a rather free-spirited type of girl.  

Thinking about his and Farrah’s relationship he acknowledged he had ignored her for some time, this time around more than previous periods. Undoubtedly, they seemed to have an on and off relationship without any set schedule in seeing each other nor any real physical or emotional claims to prove they were a couple such as exchanged rings to symbolize they were going steady.  He thought that he had to ask her, probably because of his dreadful, deep-seated inferiority complex, if she had been out with anyone else in the time they had been apart.

“Have you been out on any dates lately?” Kirk asked, straight faced with his attention directed laser straight ahead on the road.

Farrah paused and Kirk could see her shocked expression in his peripheral vision. 

“Kirk,” she said plainly. “I wouldn’t do that to you. Never. It just wouldn’t be fair. So no, I haven’t been out with anyone or even thought about going out. I’m sort of upset that you would think I’d do that.” Farrah stared at him from her close-up vantage point, but Kirk couldn’t match her stare.

“I’m really sorry to think that you’d do that,” Kirk said, with a swallow.  “But, but I have ah, ah history, you know, right?”

“I know from school what happened to you and�"HER. You shouldn’t judge me on what she did, you should know that, Kirk.”

“Sorry, but�"never mind. Let’s just drop it.” Kirk could feel his eyes well up. He wasn’t good with confrontations of any kind especially with girls.

“I don’t know, Kirk,” she said, letting it hang there heavy like anchor chain dragging him down into an emotional abyss.

Kirk knew that he had the major hang up after Dee, dwelling on it on a daily basis, and what she did behind his back while he was in college. He just couldn’t shake it. Many times considering how he felt was that he no longer had the mental capacity to feel love. Yes, he went steady with Bonnie after Dee, but he couldn’t say he loved her and didn’t trust her either when out of sight. Bonnie had that reputation whether it had been true or not. That’s the reason he broke it off with her when he graduated and not because they had problems nor that he no longer felt anything for her.

What do I feel for Farrah? Kirk asked himself despite her sitting there right up against his shoulder. How could he deny she was loyal despite him asking that awkward question? He didn’t feel that overwhelmingly loving emotion toward her like he had with Dee. He often wondered if he had only been in love with love the emotion.  

Maybe he should go steady with Farrah. Maybe pledge a commitment. Maybe give her his ring. Suddenly, he had these quandaries churning in his head as they drove down the road. At the same time, he felt guilty for asking her that stupid question. Why did he blurt that out because, after all, Farrah is a sweet, gentle, trustworthy girl.  They pressed on.

Breaking the silence, other than the constant burble of the Firebird’s exhaust, Kirk asked, “Want to eat at Burger King?”

“Sure. That’s fine with me.” Farrah said flatly. Kirk glanced at her to see if she were pissed at him. He couldn’t read her expression.

Pulling into Burger King, Kirk parked on the far end of the lot away from any other cars. He was that protective. They went in ordered and sat down, he with a Whopper and a Coke with no ice as was his way, and Farrah had a small cheeseburger and a Coke. They shared a large fry. Kirk never knew the correct sitting arrangements among dating couples. Going out, he seemed to alternate between sitting across from each other or side by side like this particular night because Kirk felt he needed to have Farrah close and show her a little more attention after his faux pa.

After eating, they left for the mall with Kirk hitting the gears a bit hard on the run up to speed on the four lane. Farrah never seemed to get alarmed or flustered when Kirk drove hard and fast. She didn’t grab at a handhold to brace herself though Kirk thought she wasn’t ever thrilled with an adrenaline rush like he got associated with the Firebird’s raw speed.

Going into the mall, the couple made their way to the multiplex where they had six movie theaters.  Kirk already knew what movie he wanted to see, but The Last American Hero was playing at the drive in. He wasn’t up to going to the drive in he had decided before leaving home. The multiplex had quite a line up with most of the movies undesirable like Go Ask Alice, The Sting, which had a lot of hype, The Exorcist, which had a different kind of hype, and a couple throwaway movies that would probably be forgotten in a month. What he wanted to see was American Graffiti with high school romances and Hot Rods at its core, something that would remind him of his best time in his life so far. Careful, he didn’t want to decide for Farrah.

“What movie would you like to see?” Kirk asked Farrah as they perused the list.

“Hmmm,” she scanned the list. “I didn’t know what was playing before now. The poster for American Graffiti looks fun with cars and couples.” She shrugged. “You decide.”

“Yeah, we’ll see that one.” He bought their tickets and headed for the theater playing it. They could hear a bunch of screams from the ongoing Exorcist.  “Hey, want some popcorn and a drink?”

“No thanks, I’m good right now.” Farrah said softly.

Kirk admired her perfect slim figure and for a couple hours he plainly forgot about all the work he needed to do and his becoming a stock car driver�"or will he?

This phase of Kirk’s life with Farrah and his time preparing the stock car would leave Kirk Never the Same.