A car I named "Priscilla"
And a person I met on the continuing journey to find home
ICYMI
People we meet on the way home
Somewhere near Orchid Bridge and old Concord Road, Al was sick of these cars.
I wandered off the beaten path as usual taking a train outside of the uptown area of Charlotte. I'm not afraid of public transportation when I can find it.
While wandering attempting to find something else, I saw her. 1953 Roadmaster and I needed to know more about her. Pretty sure in retrospect, its closer to the car from the Stephan King movie “Christine”. Either way, it's a car that came from another place and time. While she's not mine but I named her Priscilla.
Cars are named after women for good reason. I’ll have to write that one for another day.
I wanted to ask questions and was directed to a man named Al. He told me he used to work on rigs. Judging by the oil stained hands, cracked fingernails and scar on his left arm from years as a mechanic, he was the man that I needed to speak with. Al told me he originated from Charleston. I don’t remember how he lost his rigging license in Memphis but I do remember him saying he didn't bother to go back to get another one.
There's a number of lives he left behind as well. He learned everything he knows and more of what he's forgotten from his father who spent 40 years on cars and fixing anything that anybody brought to him. Al has a mobile towing truck which means he can take his business anywhere in the world.
Yet, he continued spending years getting oil stained hands and scars with these cars that he is sick and tired between Orchid Bridge and Old Concord Road.