by: Val Strate
Let me tell you about my driver. The woman who keeps me clean and running hard, she’s the quiet idle of an engine on a dark night, she’s the sparkle in the chrome of a bumper, she’s the shine and shimmer that clear coat gives. We met many years ago in 1971, a fine young Philly if I ever saw one. The first time she sat down I my passenger leather seat, I knew she was something special. We weren’t together then. I belonged to a young man named Jordan then. Jordan and I would drag race at Attica for pinks. Of course I won all the time, and Jordan was proud of me. He called me ‘Cricket’ because the way I’d jump from the starting line. How Jordan ended up with her that year, I will never know. An eco-friendly environmentalist and a drag strip racer, who would have thought such a combination, would exist? I think she once said something to Jordan she wanted to take things slow because she was on the rebound. Slow! Who takes things slow?! That’s a ridiculous notion but I guess Jordan obeyed it because Jordan dated her for at least two years. She went to Ohio State, while Jordan and I resided in Lima. Yes, I know… You Dixie folk are scratching your head saying, ‘Those are Yankee town names. You’re talking about north of the Mason Dixon line, not Hazzard.’ Yes friends I am.
Fore you see and must understand; I was born in Detroit then sold in Lima to Jordan Rice. No, I’m not a southern racer that was put together by backyard mechanics. Jordan’s father ran a Chevy dealership in Lima. Jordan was one of his father’s professional mechanics. He was a strapping young lad, easy with the wheel, hard on the gas. When we met, he was in the phase of his life where he was going from child to man. We would race together but when he was dating my driver, he seemed to get less reckless as time progressed. Well, as time went on and Jordan seen her more and more he let her drive me a few times. She was wonderful behind the wheel. Probably the best feeling woman I had in my driver’s seat. In the past Jordan did let some of his lady friends drive me a few times but he was always there with them. I knew things were getting serious between them when he let her drive me on longer trips by herself. She would always ask Jordan if she could drive and my pistons would leap with joy every time she would ask. The feeling of her long slender fingers wrapping around my wheel still excite me to this very day, and the sound of her soft high pitched angelic voice singing with my radio to sweet beautiful songs that Jordan never listened to. Granted I’ve always loved Jordan’s taste in music, Led Zeppelin was great. However, the sweetness of John Denver singing ‘Country Roads’ mixed with her voice was so glorious and beautiful, brought tears to my headlights.
I still remember the gold ring with the little sparkling clear piece of super hard glass that sat in the center. I don’t understand why that kind of ring is so important but I still remember the day he picked out for her, he was so nervous. I could feel his sweaty palms grip my leather wheel and his hands shake. He kept the little ring in my glove box for a long time. However, he never gave it to her and he never would… She ended up finding it on her own.
It was December and Jordan had parked me in the employee lot of the dealership as usual before going into work that morning. He was planning on going to Columbus after work to go see his beloved and had mentioned maybe giving her the golden ring. He said she was graduating in a year or so soon and she’d probably want a life with him. I over heard him discuss this many times with his father while they changed my oil and did maintenance checkups on me on lazy summer afternoons. Tell me, do dentists and doctors discuss their love lives over checkups with you? I find it rather odd that Jordan liked to talk to his father about such things while tending to my vitals but eh, I guess when you have a mechanic for an owner, checkups aren’t so formal. Maybe this is what it feels like for humans to have doctors in their families? Anyhow, on with the story, so it was December, and Jordan had gone into the dealership to work. I took a nap in the parking lot like I normally do while he’s at work. When suddenly, I wake up to here this awful sirens and noisy, ambulances show up screaming their presence and flashing their lights. I seen humans rush in and out of the garage of the dealership, some were in uniform, some were hysterical mechanics, some were barking orders, and it was pure chaos. I started to panic inside, in wonder what was going on. I whispered to the little mustang named ‘Sally’ that sat beside me in the lot, “Psst, you know what’s going on?”
“No, Cricket… I’m sorry I don’t. I was taking a nap too.” Sally whispered back.
I sighed in my space wondering what was happening when a black and white passed by. I called to him as he headed to the open garage door where the ambulances where parked, “Hey! Smoky! You know what’s going on? How come you and the ambulances are here?”
“Sorry kid, that’s official police business…” the black and white old Ford 500 curser answered as he strolled on by. However a rookie came by, and I called to him figuring he may leak some info because he’s new on the force. I could tell he was new, because he was a 1972 Plymouth Furry I, all bright and shinny white. That was the first time I see a Furry cop before. At the time I didn’t realize I’d see a lot more of them in the future and get to work along side of them. I would’ve been a little more polite to him by not calling him ‘Rookie’ if I would have realized this. My current law enforcement colleagues called me ‘Rookie’ for a long time and would poke fun at my green color a lot when I first came to the Hazzard team of law enforcement. They often would ask how a hot rod like me became the patrol car of a Game Warden, which to them is a glorified girl scout.
“Hey, Rookie! What’s going on?” I called out as he zoomed in.
“It’s a code blue; one of the lifts gave out and dropped a Caddy on a guy.” The crisp white Furry answered as he came in close to the area then parking. I felt my exhaust fan sink into my muffler. Jordan! Oh Lord please don’t let it be Jordan!
The funeral was three days after the incident. Jordan’s brother drove me with Jordan’s beloved sitting shotgun. We followed the hearse to the cemetery and lay my former driver to rest. After the funeral, I came back to Mr. and Mrs. Rice’s home and not to the parking space that was in front of Jordan’s apartment. I sat alone and untouched for a week. My body grew cold to the touch. I didn’t want anyone near me. Mr. Rice started me up that day that was a week anniversary of Jordan’s death. I didn’t start. I couldn’t. The cold December air ran through my fuel system and froze me up solid. My driver was gone now and I was ownerless. No more would I go to Attica and jump from the starting line to bolt down that solid asphalt strip as fast as I could. Jordan was gone. That afternoon Mr. Rice finally got me to start after putting something in my gas tank. It tasted bitter and nasty but it made the gasoline in my fuel system taste warm. We drove down to the dealership. He parked me out with some of the used cars and the next morning I had a huge sign on my windshield that said, ‘FOR SALE! As is’. I was confused now. Did this mean the end for me? I would never know the Rice’s anymore? Would I never see the woman which Jordan loved and I loved, who brought such joy into our lives? I would never hear her sweet voice sing John Denver as she sped down the highway. I wanted to tear my oil plug out and let oil leak all over the car lot. What about that important little ring that sat in my glove box still? What would happen to that? It meant something important to Jordan; would it be important to someone else now?
As I sat in misery thinking about my beloved deceased owner and the woman that would have been his bride to be, I heard a familiar voice. It was a woman. It was Jordan’s lover! She was back at the lot! She was talking to Mr. Rice and asking him about me. Her delicate fingers touched my hood gently. My pistons leaped in joy. Within a day or two, she was behind my wheel and driving me back to her college campus in Columbus. The day after she bought me, she opened the glove box to put her gloves in there and the little box with the ring fell out. She reached down and picked the box up and looked at its contents. Tears rushed from her eyes and she closed the box. She knew what it meant. She knew what the little gold ring meant. She sobbed uncontrollably for a long time then placed it back in the glove box. I carried that little box for her for a long time. She kept it in my glove box, tucked away. Every once in a while she would take the box out, look at the ring and ponder for long intervals. My oil pan leaked for her. From there on out, it was just us. She graduated from college and eventually got a job in Ohio at a park up by Lake Erie. She worked as a ranger up there and lived in a small apartment alone. She would have boyfriends but they would never last long. One day she got a letter that made her take the long drive back home to Hazzard.
It was a shock for me really, going to Hazzard. I didn’t realize that she was from the south until we did arrive down there. She introduced me to her family and friends. Everyone loved us; in fact, we were challenged to a race! I was excited. I never raced dirt track before. We had a ton of fun, until the last few laps. That’s when things got serious and we ran into a wall. My hood was crumpled and my front end pushed back. Valerie hit her forehead on the steering wheel and was knocked out for a day or two. I was towed away to a place called ‘Cooters’ while she went to a place called ‘Tri-County’. Two young boys worked on me along with a gentleman who ran Cooter’s which I suspect was ‘Cooter’. They bent my frame back and restored my engine, ripped me apart then put me back together. When I saw my driver again, her head was wrapped in a bandage and she asked Cooter to take care of me for a while. I wanted to die. I hurt her. I caused my beloved pain and sorrow. That was the last time I seen her for a long while. I was sent to an old barn that Cooter owned and a sheet we draped over my head. Every Sunday Cooter would take me out of the short drive to keep me running but that was all my automotive life consisted anymore. Once I was the Buckeye state’s biggest thing in drag strip, now retired to a barn in Georgia. I sat for days with the blanket over my headlights thinking what kind of life is this? I felt bitter inside. There were days that I didn’t want Cooter to touch me and I wouldn’t start for him. During those times Cooter would then let me be, but he’d always come back and try again later. Usually I would then start for him. Cooter was a very kind man and a gentle mechanic. His touch was almost as brilliant and kind as Jordan’s. He was a genius when it came to helping cars. He along with some fellows named ‘The Duke boys’ created a car known as the General Lee. I heard this car’s name spoken and whisper all through out the south while I was down here, but my first encounter with the super super-human automotive was on a Sunday afternoon drive with Cooter. We were heading on home when an orange Charger came racing out of no where. I almost ran into his tail lights when Cooter stopped me.
“Shoot fire and save a box of matches! You boys almost took me and ol’Cricket here out.” Cooter exclaimed into the CB.
A voice came back over the airwaves and I assumed it was from ‘The General Lee’, “Aawww, shucks Cooter, you mean we miss ya!” which was followed by a boyish laugh.
“Very funny, ya’ll wanna head down to the Nest and we can grab ourselves a beer. I’m a might thirsty and I wouldn’t mind visitin’ with ya.” Cooter answered, “Plus Cricket needs some gas…”
“Alright we’ll see ya at the Boar’s Nest.” The voice answered.
The next thing I know we were at the Boar’s Nest and I was parked right beside the famed ‘General Lee’. The General’s driver was a tall blond haired man with blue eyes, I recognized him and his cousin as the two young men who worked on me and brought me back to life. After the humans went inside to socialize, I sat in my spot and pondered some things. That’s when the General spoke…
“So you new to these parts?” The orange Charger asked as I sat in wait next to him.
“Well, kind of… “I answered.
“Kind of? What’s that mean? I know every car in Hazzard County, if you’re not new, how come I never seen you around town before.”
I then sighed and explained my story to the General. He listened close and seemed very understanding almost sympathetic when I spoke of Jordan and his beloved who bought me and now handed me off to Cooter’s care.
“I’m sorry kid… Wish I could help ya. I know it’d crack my gasket, if one of those Duke boys wanted to let me go, or something happened to one of them.”
I didn’t respond back but I think the General could tell how I felt. He then asked me another question in a gentle but inquisitive tone, “How come I haven’t seen you out and about? Cooter keeps you locked up?”
“Yeah, I only get out on Sundays…”
“Aaawww that’s too bad. Well, I’ll keep that in mind then…”
I looked puzzled at the General just as the humans were coming back, “For what?”
The Dukes slid into the General’s windows and Cooter got behind my wheel. The General Lee didn’t say anything until our engines revved up then he whispered, “You’ll see…”
Two weeks had come and gone since that first meeting. I was starting to think that the General Lee forgot about me. It was that next Sunday that Cooter was taking me out for a drive when an orange bolt came zooming past. The sound of a Dixie horn hung in the air as I realized it was the General Lee. Cooter picked up the CB, “Hey, ya’ll this is crazy Cooter out here on the Hazzardnet, what you two lost sheep up to? Lookin’ for a race or something?”
The light happy voice of the blond Duke came over the CB, “Ha ha, hey how could ya tell? Come on… We wanna see what ol’ Cricket can do!”
“I don’t know ya’ll. I don’t wanna take a chance of wreckin’ him. He ain’t exactly mine.” Cooter answered.
“Aww come on Cooter, we’ll take it easy on ya. Just open him up a bit.” Luke’s voice came over the radio waves.
Cooter frowned a little but stepped on the gas sending me faster down the dirt road and right beside the General Lee. The General gleamed in the bright sunlight. He was in his element as he called out in joy, “Ha ha! Hey there Cricket! Ya ready to race?”
“Race?!” I blinked as we spend along neck and neck, and our drivers began to exchange playful taunts to start a race.
“Yeah, race… You said ya have before…”
“Yeah but it was so long ago…”
“Come on…”
I grinned as I heard Cooter call back on the CB, “Oh yeah, well ya know that gal ya took to the dance on Saturday Bo?”
“Yeah…” He answered back.
“She’s uglier than an armadillo…” Cooter chuckled in the CB after hearing one of the boys’ taunts.
“That’s it Cooter! Ya gonna race or not?” Bo called back revving the General. The General Lee laughed as he felt the gasoline run through him, “Get ready boy… We’re gonna be racin’ soon.”
Suddenly I felt a burst of speed and we were off. The General Lee and I were neck and neck in a race down that little dirt road. The wind in my grill the heat of my engine running and the sun beating down on my hood as dirt kicked up against our wheels. Our engines whined as we struggled against the wind. The General’s engine laughed as we raced.
“Tired yet?” The orange Charger at my side called to me.
“Heck no!”
“Good…” with that said he pulled forward more.
“Oh no you don’t!”
He just laughed again, but I then pulled ahead and passed him. Cooter wasn’t giving this one up. I raced forward now laughing hysterically. I was going to beat the great General Lee, “Ha ha! Take that!”
Little did I realize until it was starting to become too late to slow down, that the bridge was out. I gulped that last burst of gas in fear. I wasn’t going to make it across the River Styx there was no way. I tried to slow down but I couldn’t. I just felt myself racing toward the bridge. So this is why the General Lee slowed down.
“I can’t slow down… The brakes! Dammit! The brakes!” Cooter yelled into the CB.
Suddenly an orange burst came out of no where and pushed into my side forcing me off the road and into the ditch with it, the General Lee. We both slammed to a stop into the ditch and let our radiators cool while our drivers regained their senses as well.
“Cooter! Ya alright!” Bo called from his window to Cooter.
“Yeah… I just… wow… Ya’ll saved my tail back there.”
“Don’t worry about it Cooter. You’d do the same for us…” Luke answered as he got out of the General and came over to see if Cooter was alright.
I glanced over at the wounded General and realized my own damage as well, “Thanks…”
“Yeah, no problem… It’s what Hazzard folks do. We help one another out.” The orange charger answered.
“But I ain’t from Hazzard…”
“Don’t matter… You’re one of us now. You wouldn’t be in this County this long if you didn’t belong here.”
I paused as the tow truck pulled the General Lee away first then me up onto the car hauler. I was then pulled out as well and sent to the garage. We both got a full checkup and repair. Of course the General went on his merry way and I was sent back to the barn of solitude. However, I had a new out look on life. Was there something more to me being idle all this time, laying in wait for the right moment? As time pasted, I noticed the cars did too. However every once in a while I seen the General on my Sunday drives, even though we never raced again it was nice to exchange a word or two with him. I looked forward to those moments, instead of feeling sorry for myself that I wasn’t out and about all the time. Something told me, my sweet lady love was coming back home to me. I just didn’t know when…
That’s when it happened, years later one Wednesday afternoon; Cooter came out to the barn with the Dukes and the General Lee. As I was backing out of the barn and spotting the General in the drive I called hello to him, “Hey! How are you doing?”
He gave me a grin and spoke, “Cricket, buddy this is your lucky day.”
“What do you mean?” I asked as I then followed him out of the farm driveway toward town.
“You’ll see… You’ll see…” He chuckled. He did this kind of surprise with me before. I wasn’t too happy about this mysterious attitude he was giving me and I wanted to know then but I didn’t question it further.
We arrived in town and pulled in front of the garage. That’s when I realized, the woman I met years ago in Ohio was standing before me. She was back! She looked just like the day she left me only healed of her injuries and a warm smile painting her lovely face. She skimmed her hand over my hood before she got behind my wheel again after Cooter got out and reunited us. I could see the tears in her eyes. She was happy to have me again. That night she drove me back to her home, to her ‘factory’ her place of birth. The little Georgian farm was welcoming and warm again. Little did I know that my life would change again. I would go from just a hotrod road warrior to a vehicle of justice. Yes, within a week of her homecoming, she was hired onto Hazzard County’s Department of Wildlife and I was made her official vehicle. When we went on a call together, I adorned a red flasher on my hood. The first time I parked in front of the courthouse, I was introduced to Hazzard One and Hazzard Two, the county’s two squad cars. I can still hear Hazzard One laughing when I rolled up.
“Well, well, lookie what we got here Two… I think someone parked in the wrong place.” Hazzard One scoffed.
Hazzard Two didn’t say anything. He just gave me a look.
“Look, man… I’m the Game Warden’s vehicle and if you got a problem with that, that’s tough cause I got just as much right to be here as you.”
“Oooo, snippy!” One proceeded to interrogate, “Look rookie, just stay out of the real police work.”
They didn’t take too kindly to me at first but after a while I earned my way in. The pivotal point for the tension to finally break between us was when I beat the yellow mustang named ‘Spice’ that was driven by the infamous Trisha Hawkins in a race for Enos Strate’s life. Hazzard Two was extremely thankful his officer was returned to him.
However, this is one fact that I realized, patrol cars in this county don’t last long and they are replaced fairly quickly because their officer’s wreck them beyond repair. I just deal with them. The new models no longer tease me because they’ve heard of me and now somewhat respect my presence in the department. I’d tell you all about that race with ‘Spice’ it but that’s another story that is told at another time. There are still many moments and many stories I could tell you about. Like the time my mistress saved a boa snake from a pet truck wreck, or the time her first love before Jordan came back into her life, (so that’s why she wanted to take it slow).
For now, I’m just happy to be returned to my Mistress and have her back in my life. We are one once more, mistress and machine, in a marriage of sentiment, passion, love and adventure. Whatever happens to us in the future is yet to be foreseen but we take it one road at a time, just me and my mistress, Ms. Valerie Marie Strate.
Written by Marie Roach, April 2007.