Me and my cousin James Earl were walking around his backwoods compound one Saturday afternoon when I found her. The large 50 acre spread was where he kept his marijuana farm and all the stuff he had gathered as one of Alabama's biggest pot growers. We were strolling through a huge sheet metal hangar-style shed, looking all the cars, motorcycles, trucks and what-not that he had taken or stolen over the years. Suddenly I stopped dead in my tracks and stared. "Oh. Oh my."
James Earl, distracted, looked up and around as he lit a huge joint. "What?"
"What is that?" I asked him, still staring.
"Hunh? what? Helicopters? cops? Spiders? what the hell?"
"No, relax yourself James Earl and pass that joint. What...is...that...?"
I took a huge hit of Bastard county's finest homegrown imported Indica cross bred with Kudzoo. It's a special blend we call we called 'Fuck You, shut up, and Smoke that Shit' (because it was the 80's and we smoked what we had without wasting time to name the shit, you 2022 spoiled brats) and blew a massive David Lee Roth size cloud of smoke towards a black car...a car? Nay, an ebony execution of art sculpted from steel which glowed with an inner beauty that made Nina Hartley's ass look like a Chicago sidewalk.
Yeah, I'm a little high.
"Oh that one? Really? I thought you weren't into cars and other stuff like that." James Ray laughed. "I thought you liked art and inner beauty and quintessence and shit."
"Well, I am into art and shit, and I'm also into not being an ignorant redneck like my cousin who I love more than a brother, and true, I've never really liked cars..but...damn James Earl, I think I'm into that car, though. Wow."
James adjusted his glance and stance as he watched me stare at the car. "That, is a 1940 Ford Coup. Deluxe. It's been fitted for 'shine running, with double shocks, helper springs, secret tanks under the floor board, a V-8 engine and the color is called Midnight Runner black. There's a bunch of other stuff about it, but you prolly barely get the stuff I already said."
"True, but you're saying this was a moonshine running car?" I had stopped staring and was running my hands along it's sleek lines. The delicate curves were Deco, WW II and timeless. It was more like a sleek fighter plane than a car. Seriously. And you know what? Yes, the car's beauty did pull me in like the beauty of a good painting.
My cousin was looking at look at the car with wide eyes. "Brother man, you are serious aren't you?" James Ray sounded surprised and then barked out a laugh of glee. "Oh man, somethings just run in the blood! Curse me to Hell if they don't! And I can tell that you are being real. It's a miracle that no one in my gang told you."
"Told me what?"
James gathered himself and pointed towards the Ford Coupe with his entire arm. "That, my friend, was the car your grandpa's daddy, Jacob Jasper, owned when he was running illegal liquor in the county." James's face was beaming with the joy of sharing a long held secret.
"You're shittin' me."
"I shit you not. He was the best, the God damned best. Vicious and cruel, handsome and cool. Old ladies still blush when they talk about J.J. He got killed in a shootout, the car came to your Grandpa, and the asshole lost it in a goddamned card game a while 'go. I got it from a motherfucker who owed me, and it's been here since. I just couldn't drive it myself, as, well, seemed weird, ya know? Also it's way too flashy for a pot dealer to drive. My Yugo keeps me out of jail."
There was a pause as we both stared on my black patrimony.
"How much you want for it James Ray?"
"It's worth 27,875. As cherry as it is. But it's family. And so are you. Right?"
His voice was serious. Serious enough to make me look at him twice.
"Yeah Jake, I'm askin'. Are you gonna stay home now? You're supposed to go home after the summer, back to Yankeeland. But you've been making a presence, and the family's better for it. So. Are you back for good? You back in the family?"
I held his look long enough to get what he was asking, and then I looked at the car.
"Yeah."
James pulled a ring with three keys on it, and tossed them to me.
"It's yours. But you owe me."
I held the keys in my hand. "....will I have to put anything up my butt?" I asked.
"No!"
"Will I have to anything up Jolene's butt?"
"Maybe."
"Deal."
Five minutes later I was driving a car I loved, I mean really loved, for the first time. It was an amazing feeling. It felt right, like it fit, and yet it was such a beautiful machine. It made me feel a little taller, a little stronger. And it was turning me on like nobody's business. By the time I got close to where Grandpa and Jolene lived, I had an erection harder than quantum mechanics. I had to park the car around the block, to keep it hidden from Grandpa. He wasn't home yet, but he would be in about an hour. I walked through the house, looking for Jolene. Grandma Jolene. My damn step-grandmother was the best fuck of my life, and I needed her so damn bad I could barely see straight. Her plump ass, her big, only slightly droopy tits, her beehive-church lady hairdo and her cat's eye glasses, and her hot succulent tongue....where was she? The kitchen? No, the bedroom? The garage? Out back, yes! I had to hurry, time was flashing by and I had to fuck her, I had to fuck her hard and well.
Out in the back yard just beyond the vegetable patch they had a small greenhouse. I saw she was there from a distance, wearing blue dungarees and a white cotton blouse with her hair tied up in a kerchief. Her side was to me, so her curves stood out even under the modest clothes. With her gloved hands deep in potting soil, she could not have looked more maternal, and yet all I could think of was fucking her. I strode to the shed and closed the door behind me, startling her.
"Oh! Jake! Be careful, honey, this shed is almost as old as me."
