The Blue Hornet

 

Scott and I had been dating for about a month and a half.  I lived in my house, and he lived in his house, with 50 miles separating the two.  One evening, Scott had driven to my house for dinner.  We had finished eating and were standing at the sink doing dishes, when he turned and looked at me.

"I don't want to spend another night away from you," he said.  

I smiled at him, gave him a hug, and we went back to doing dishes.  I learned quickly that Scott said what he meant and meant what he said.  After that night, we spent every night together for years.  

Because his work schedule was more flexible (he was self-employed at the time, and I was not), we decided he would stay at my house Monday through Thursday nights.  On Friday after work, I would drive to his house and spend the weekend there.  I had a smaller car at the time, so I didn't mind driving back and forth.  Scott had a big work truck that got terrible gas mileage.  Unbeknownst to me, he decided to remedy that.

One evening after work, I was in the kitchen making dinner when I heard a car pull up out front.  It did not sound like Scott's work truck, and I was not expecting anyone else, so I looked out the front window to see who was at my house.  In my driveway was a tiny blue Honda Accord hatchback, circa 1980-something.  Scott filled the entire front seat, and his 100-pound yellow lab, Maddie, filled the entire back seat.  Big man, big dog, tiny car.  I laughed and laughed as he opened the door, rolled out onto his hands and knees, then stood up.  He was grinning as he helped Maddie out of the back seat and walked up the sidewalk.  

"I bought a commuter car!" he said excitedly.  "I got it for $500!"

I laughed more as he gave me one of his signature Scott Bear Hugs, lifting my feet off the ground.  

"I named it the Blue Hornet!" he said, laughing with me.  

We walked to the car, and he showed me all the non-existent amenities.  The car was a shell, with bare wires on the floorboards and a non-functional passenger seatbelt.  The passenger window crank was missing, but Scott showed me how to remove the driver side crank and attach it to the passenger side.  "Works like a charm," he said, both of us still laughing.  "And it gets about 35 miles per gallon."  We laughed more and went inside to eat dinner.

A few days later, I heard Scott, Maddie, and the Blue Hornet pull into the driveway.  I was once again in the middle of cooking dinner, so I kept cooking, expecting Scott and Maddie to walk in the front door.  I kept cooking, kept cooking.  Minutes went by.  No Scott.  No Maddie.  What the heck are they doing out there?

I opened the front door and walked outside.  I could see Scott, still sitting in the car, looking down at his seat.  I couldn't figure out what he was doing, so I approached the car.  Scott rolled down the window as I reached the driver's door.  

"What are you doing?" I asked, looking inside.

"I'm stuck.  The seatbelt won't release."  He kept pushing the release button and pulling on the clasp, but it was firmly lodged.  He yanked and pulled, yanked harder and pulled harder.  Nothing.  He was stuck.  Maddie looked on passively from the back seat.  I tried.  He tried.  I tried again.  He tried again.  Finally, he asked, "Do you have any scissors?"  

I ran back in the house, grabbed some scissors, and we cut him free of his seat belt prison.  

Blue Hornet: 2.

Seat belts: 0.

When Friday mornings rolled around, Scott would head back to his house, and I would head to work.  I had three cats at the time, Sketch, Stanley, and Norman, so Scott would often load up my three cats, along with Maddie, and drive them all back to his house in the Blue Hornet.  My cats loved going to Scott's house.  He had a bigger house with a large yard that bordered a vacant lot filled with cottonwood trees and tall grass.  My cats loved hunting and exploring in his yard and the vacant lot.  

Watching all of them climb into the Blue Hornet on Friday mornings was quite the show.  First, Scott would load Maddie into the back seat.  Maddie had no choice but to lie down, because the roof was too short for her to sit up.  Lying down, Maddie filled the entire back seat.  One at a time, Scott then loaded the cats.  He always started with Norman, who was a kitten and would climb on the floor in the back seat and go to sleep.  Then he moved to Sketch, who was older and sat in the front seat, looking out the window.  Stanley went in last.  

One morning, I asked Scott why Stanley was always last.  

Scott looked at me, looked at the clown car full of critters, looked at me again.  He took a breath, then said, "Because Stan beats the shit out of Maddie."

"What?" I asked.

"Yeah," Scott grimaced.  "Stan gets in the back seat and whaps Maddie in the face.  Then he jumps in the front seat for a while and sits with Sketch.  Then he goes in the back seat and whaps Maddie in the face again."

I apologized over and over.  I offered to bring Stan when I came down in the afternoon.  Scott refused.  He shrugged, then said, "I think they'll get it figured out."  

If that isn't true love, I don't know what is.