I've found, as I write, Brendan's way of dealing with problems is to fix something. He does it a few times in Book One, and it shows up in Book Two when his uncle is having car trouble.
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Josiah O’Shea’s Cortina wouldn’t start on damp mornings and he’d had near everyone he could think of check into it, at no small cost to himself, until he let me look into it and I found the problem and...
I laughed. Startled myself, remembering Josiah. A man who personified the image of a leprechaun. The first time I'd had a happy memory from nowhere. I nearly sighed with joy from it.
I looked at the clock and it was just past nine. I'd been rising about this time, anyway, so got out of the bed and went to the window. It didn't hurt that the constant irregular noise was finally beginning to drive me mad. If a car's not working, why keep trying to make it do what it doesn't want to?
I saw Uncle Sean was at the Volvo, under the bonnet...the hood, as it were; might as well use the American terms for all things. It was a dark blue 544 and looked like it had the twin SU Carbs to it. A decent car it was but in need of a wash and maybe attention paid to the rust spots developing between the passenger door and front wing...fender. The interior wasn’t in quite as good of shape but wasn’t beyond saving. From here the motor looked fine. But when Uncle Sean got behind the wheel to turn the key, I could hear the telltale creaking that meant some lubrication would be needed, or maybe a fresh set of dampers...shocks.
Angus lay on the grass, nearby, watching him patiently.
He tried to start the motor, again, and it chugged along, working really hard to catch but not managing. So he went back under the hood, unplugged the spark wires, re-plugged them and tried again. Only to get nothing when he tried to start it. So back under the hood to undo other connections and redo them and try again. It was comical, for he did not sit easy in that car.
Well, I had enough of it and went all the way downstairs and out the back door. Angus came up to greet me, so I gave him a scratch behind the ears. The bricks were wet and sticky, and the air had begun to feel warm and smothering, despite the mist. I wore only pajama bottoms, still, no slippers even, so the soaked grass tickled my feet...and I loved the feel of it...
Caressing the back of my neck as I lay on the hillside, Joanna beside me, our complaints about life in Derry so simple and pure...
I stopped, halfway to him from the house, took in a deep breath and forced myself to say, “Havin' troubles?”
He jumped and looked at me as if I were a madman, which I probably seemed to him. “Bren, what you doin' out here? You ain’t dressed.”
I shrugged. “Would you care for me to look at it?” I motioned to the Volvo.
He grimaced, in response. “Dunno what you can do. Does this every time there’s a fog in the mornin'. Then in the afternoon, it starts up fine. But I need to get to Liam's and this is the only car left.”
"Liam's?"
"One of my bars. Liam's Trough. Not far from here..."
I looked around and saw two dry spots where the other cars had been. “When’s Aunt Mari back?”
“Dunno. Guess I’ll grab a cab. Lookin' at buyin' 'nother bar up in The Heights and the owner’s droppin' by to talk. I’ll get it towed to the shop, tomorrow.”
I just leaned over the motor and it reeked of petrol...gas. He had flooded it. The engine was in fine enough shape. The cables were on the old side, possibly original. Same for the coil. I pulled at it without gripping the glove and it nearly come out. “Try startin’ it, again, but no more petrol.”
He shrugged and sat behind the wheel and the car creaked. Definitely lubrication. I pushed both ends of the coil’s cable against their gloves, and the motor fired right up.
Uncle Sean bolted from the car, startled. “What’d you do?”
“You need a new coil,” I said. “It’s comin’ apart inside the glove, so you can’t see it. Dampness keeps it from makin’ the connection. Is there an auto shop nearby?”
“On the way to Liam's. I can stop off.”
I nodded. “You might want to think about havin’ all the cables replaced. They’re about due.”
“Damn, Bren, where’d you learn that?”
“I’ve been at this since forever. Clocks, tellys and the like. Cars. Made money from it. Had a job.”
“Your mother never said a word.” Then he seemed to give himself a mental kick and added, "I mean..well..."
"It's all right," I said. "She thinks me simple."
Then I headed back to the house, feeling vague and sleepy but also hungry for breakfast. Both Uncle Sean and Angus let me go.
There was no one about to ask after food, so I dug into the cooler. Found neither eggs nor sausage for a fry-up, so fixed a sandwich from the wealth of things available. Flaps of cheeses and a round, thin-sliced meat called bologna that didn't even begin to look like meat, and lettuce so crisp it could cut you and some sort of mixed sauce called Sandwich Spread all piled high on two slices of white bread that felt as light as a feather. There were also tomatoes, but they were so rich and red they made me uneasy. I found only a couple cans of Dr Pepper chilled in the fridge’s door so took one, opened it and returned to my room.
I sat on the bed and ate, feeling very luxurious, and thoroughly enjoyed the Dr Pepper; it wasn’t as sharp and biting as Coke. Then I dozed a little before rising, again, and for the first time found myself weary of having nothing on me but sweat and pajamas.
I took a long hot shower. Let the steam boil through me. Watched how it caught the light from the window and made tiny rainbows in the clouds of beauty and gentleness. Loved how it filled my lungs and wiped away the world long past. This was such luxury. Then I toweled off...and had to towel off twice more, thanks to the humidity bringing out my sweat.
"No wonder Americans bathe every day and there's non-stop ads on the telly about deodorant," I muttered to myself. "If they didn't slather themselves with it, they'd reek."
So I did. Some kind of spray called Right Guard. It filled the air and smelled of chemicals, and I wound up coughing my way out of the bathroom from how it near choked me.
I may have used a bit much.
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