Although the story and characters are 100 percent fiction, I did grow up in a very small town like the fictional Dusty Flats. I had the good fortune to enjoy that simple lifestyle. I tell it in the first person because I personally remember those days with fondness.
1978. Long before cell phones, the video game frenzy, 400 channels of TV available at the touch of a remote, or home computers, we lived in a much simpler existence.
In Dusty Flats, it was even simpler. A very quiet and small community of less than 300 people located along a two lane road enjoyed a lifestyle that existed on good neighbors, good barbeques, and a thriving oilfield workforce that kept this and several other small communities within a 15 mile radius going strong.
My uncle Willie was one of the few men in the area that didn't work for the oilfields. As a youngster, he did, but he bought the Dusty Quick-Stop, a combination gas station and small grocery market, in 1960 , at the age of 30.
It was his dream to have his own business and the highway store had a loyal customer base.
His wife, my Aunt Mary helped with the store while also being a busy mother of my cousins, Brett and Amy.
Brett is 3 years older than I, and Amy is one year older.
I'm Adam, and I spent many weekends as a kid at that humble home in Dusty Flats.
My mother Marge and Aunt Mary were sisters, with Mary being older by a year. I also had an older brother, Donald, that had died many years ago as a toddler due to complications of a stomach disorder.
We were the "city kids" although we loved the rural life so much better. My dad, Lee, had a handyman business that his dad had begun in the early 1950s that kept him busy all day from Monday -Friday and usually a half day on Saturdays. Mom was a part-time librarian for one of the junior high schools in town.
The "big city" was located about 40 miles from the rural community of Dusty Flats. The city did have a fine junior college and a 4 year university. There was large shopping mall there that folks from towns like Dusty Flats, Walden Acres, and Logantown would drive to do their major shopping, including groceries.
Uncle Willie's roadside market kept necessities like milk, eggs, bread, and butter in stock along with plenty of snack foods and sodas. To do any shopping for meats and other important items, it required a visit to the "big city" (population less than 100,000). Life in Central California back then truly is so different than what most people get to experience today.
I look back on those years from the late 60s to late 70s nostalgically as some of the happiest of my life. As kids, we'd spend many evenings sleeping outdoors on their large front porch. If the weather was too cold or too wet, we'd just sprawl out on the living room floor. Who needs a bed anyway? Even my cousins, who had their own beds, would sleep on the floor with us.
In fact, Brett and Amy's friends would come over for the night and we'd make room for them as well. There were two empty beds that no one used, and no one wanted to use.
I loved that area and I loved the cookouts. I loved taking turns with my cousins cranking the handle of the homemade ice cream maker. Hamburgers, hot dogs, and chicken on the grill was only made better than having that homemade ice cream for dessert.
Evenings were spent with the adults, including some of their neighbors, sitting around in various conversations. Often, the men would huddle around Uncle Willie's pickup truck while the ladies would either sit on the porch or inside and carry on with their conversations.
Us kids? Well, we mingled together quite well despite the age differences. I was closer in age to Amy, although she was always one grade ahead of me. Still, I was the better student and would often be able to help her with her homework although her studies were one grade advanced.
I loved math and spelling. In fact, I placed second in the county spelling bee in both my 7
th
and 8
th
grade years. I had been doing high school level math and algebra in junior high.
However, it wasn't just Amy that I enjoyed. She had a friend, Emily. Tall, thin, long red, curly hair pulled back in a loose ponytail, bright green eyes, and a quiet demeanor that made me want to know her more.
The problem with me was that I was an absolute mess around girls...socially at least. I was fine with Amy, she was my cousin. But I had a huge crush on Emily and yet played so cool and aloof when around her.
I could stare at her for hours. Her willowy build, small ass, and smallish breasts would get my attention.
Emily lived three houses down from my cousins. Her parents, Vic and Staci, were friends with my aunt and uncle as well as my parents.
To be clear, living three houses down in Dusty Flats isn't the same as three houses down in a more modern neighborhood.
The streets were wide and paved with gravel. There were no lines in the streets. Many houses were 100 feet or more apart from their next door neighbor.
Still, when I was around Emily, I practically became a mute. When she was around, I could carry on a normal conversation with anyone else, but to talk to Emily? It was simple yes, no, or I Don't Know kind of answers.
Emily was Amy's age, which also meant she was a year older. That was also intimidating to me since I doubted she'd want a "younger man." Despite all my self-confidence I had with my academics, I was a wreck around her.
Nobody tried to play matchmaker for us. Looking back, I'm sure others must have noticed changes in my behavior when talking to her. If nothing else, they might have concluded that I didn't really like her.
Emily was self-conscious about her appearance. She was a late bloomer. She was skinny. She never even needed a bra until she was in high school.
In 1978, where this story picks up, I was ready to graduate from high school. I had turned 18 in May and would begin junior college in August.
Uncle Willie offered me some part-time work at the market. I would work part of the day Friday afternoon and most of the day on the weekend. The store always closed by 6 on weekdays and at 4 on weekends.
By then, I had saved enough money to buy a 1966 Nova. It wasn't much to look at, but my dad gave it a thorough inspection and assured me that it would serve its purpose for several more years. The fact that he had good mechanical skills also helped. I learned how to do basic maintenance on it, including replacing the spark plugs and "gapping" them to company specs. I did my own oil changes and kept a close watch on all fluid levels and belt wear.
This Nova got me back and forth to Dusty Flats to work...and see more of Emily.
Emily spent the weekdays with her aunt in uncle in the city while she attended junior college. On weekends, she'd go back home to Dusty Flats.
That began the uneasy transition of getting to know Emily better.
