The Day His Motor Died

 by: Hankster

© 2020 by the author

The author retains all rights. No reproductions are allowed without the author's consent. Comments are appreciated at...

hankster@tickiestories.us

Prologue 

Michael graduated from The Wharton School of Business in 1997 with an MBA.  He immediately landed a great job in a mid-town Manhattan brokerage firm.  It was a fantastic opportunity.  He advanced quickly, and had many happy, satisfied clients. 

All through college and grad school he had rented a room in a private home.  Out of sheer habit, he went about looking for a room to rent.

“For Christ ‘s sake,” his dad lectured him.  “You’re a big boy now making big bucks.  Drop the rented room bit, and look for an apartment that befits your status in life.  Besides, don’t you want a place to entertain young women?” 

Heeding his father’s advice, he rented a spacious one-bedroom apartment in a gentrified Manhattan neighborhood, and it made him feel that his career was skyrocketing.  To his credit, he was aware of, and he appreciated his good fortune.

He met Nancy at work.  She was the secretary of one of his associates. They began a torrid love affair.  Nancy was beautiful, and Michael was much envied by his friends.  This just added to his complacency.

One day, in the late fall of 2000, he awoke to a glorious morning.  There was no hint of summer heat left in the air.  And then, his Edenic world began to unravel.  It happened quickly and without warning.  He didn’t have time to assess the situation until he was at rock bottom. 

It started with an early morning phone call from his father.  He wasn’t even half dressed for work yet.  Phone calls at odd hours scared the shit out of him.  He almost let himself believe that his mother had died.

Michael’s father, Ted, was polar opposite of his son.  He was totally blue collar, and Michael was totally white collar.  Ted owned an automobile repair shop on Long Island.  Michael had worked for his dad after school and every summer for as long as he could remember.  For sure, he knew his way beneath the hood of a car.

Ted was disappointed that his son would not take over the successful business he had built, but he supported all his son’s decisions about his own life, and stood ready to back him up with whatever he wanted to do.  Michael respected his father, and loved him dearly.

He picked up the phone.  Without hellos and preliminaries, he heard, “I wanted to tell you myself.  Your mother will be calling you soon.  We split up.  She’s already started divorce proceedings.”

Michael always believed that his parents had an ideal marriage.  He had hoped to emulate them with Nancy.  He couldn’t believe he heard right.

“What happened?” he croaked.

“Your mother just lost interest in me.  She didn’t want to go out to movies, restaurants, theaters, concerts, and pretty much anything else.  At first, I was content to stay home with her, but then she joined a bridge club.  She spent hours playing the damn game, leaving me alone at home.  After a while, I found myself going out to local bars without her.  Michael, don’t condemn me.  I met a woman, and I’m moving in with her.”

“Wow,” was all Michael could manage.  “Look Dad, I’ll call you tonight.  I have to go to work now.”

Seconds after he hung up on his dad, his mother called.  He let his answering machine record the message.  When her message was finished, he listened.  According to his mother, the breakup was all his father’s fault.  No surprise there.

The moment he got to the office, the senior partner wanted to see him.

“What’s up?” he asked.

“You tell me.” Joe Spenser said.  “James McCauley took all his holdings away from us this morning.  He said that he was dissatisfied with you.”

Michael could not believe what he had heard.  McCauley was his best client.  He had increased his portfolio value by fifty percent in eighteen months.

“That’s crazy,” Michael said.  “Not one of our managed portfolios has done better than his.  He practically kissed my feet every time he saw me.”

“Be that as it may, you must have done something to irk him.”

“I can’t think what.”

Michael and Joe never found out what.  McCauley was having an affair with a beautiful investment advisor, who worked for another firm.  Of course, he gave her all his business.  He was a married man with kids, so he couldn’t tell Joe the real reason he was deserting his firm.

Two years later, he broke up with her after she badly mismanaged his money, and after he lost a good deal of it.  He ate crow, but he came back to Michael.

In the interim, Michael’s record with the firm was blemished, and a junior partnership did not seem so imminent any more.

As soon as he got back to his office, Nancy buzzed him.

“Can we have lunch together?” she asked.  “I need to talk to you.”

“Sure,” he said.  He needed a friend at this moment in time.  “I’ll pick you up at noon.”

As soon as they were seated in the restaurant, he asked Nancy what she wanted to speak to him about.

“Later,” she said.  “Let’s have lunch first.”

Michael’s day had gone so badly so far, that he was really apprehensive about what she might tell him.  They both ordered sandwiches.  Michael gobbled his up, but Nancy ate slowly.  She seemed to be delaying what she had to say.

Finally, Michael could stand it no longer.  “Well?” he asked.

“I had sex with Mark last night,” she blurted out.

Mark was the associate Nancy worked for.  He was Michael’s co-worker for God’s sake.  He was too shocked to speak, so Nancy continued.

“I’m breaking up with you,” she said.

Michael finally found his voice.  “Why?  To be trite, I thought you and I were a match made in heaven.” 

“I thought so too, but when Mark made love to me, I was transported to paradise.  You make love like a virgin school boy every time we do it.”

As if things had not gone badly enough this horrible day, Nancy had just cast aspersions on his manhood.  She stood up and left the restaurant.  It was an indication that there was no room for discussion; end of story.

Michael returned to his office, and he asked his secretary not to put any calls through. 

“What’s wrong?” she asked.  “You look like you were hit by a truck.”

“I was,” he said.

He went into his private office and locked the door.  He had to sit quietly for a while to digest everything that had happened to him today, and to reconsider his life.  Long after everyone left, and he was alone in the office, he made a decision.

Michael had scads of vacation and sick days due him.  He never took either.  He decided that he was going to take a month’s sabbatical, and motor across country.  He wanted to be alone, and to go to a place where there were very few people.  He zeroed in on Wyoming.  He had read somewhere that it was the least populated state in the union.  If it were true or not, he could more easily avoid interacting with others in that part of the world.  He even decided to use back roads instead of super highways.  He gave no thought to whether this was wise or not.  He just wanted solitude.

Chapter 1 

Less than a week later, Michael found himself filling the gas tank of his previously owned 1998 Lexus.  He was just a few miles from the Wyoming-Nebraska border.  While he was at the service station, he took a moment to consult a map.  He was quite close to I 80, but he had vowed not to use super highways.  He found a secondary road that paralleled I 80, and would take him to a small town in western Wyoming.  His research said that this town was sparsely populated, but had magnificent views of the Wyoming landscape and the secondary road terminated at The Grand Tetons.  He had decided to make it his destination.  He didn’t even know if they had a hotel where he could stay.  He’d cross that bridge when he reached it.

He drove along the country road, and admitted to himself that it was quite boring.  All he saw were wheat fields after wheat fields.  Every few miles, he spotted a farm house dotting the road. 

He was about fifty miles into Wyoming when his car stalled.  He turned the key in the ignition.  The car started up again, but after a few short miles, it stalled again.  This time it didn’t start.  Michael knew the symptoms well.  His transmission was shot.  He looked under the hood to verify his diagnosis.

At that point in human history, Michael was one of the few people who owned a cell phone.  He had kept it charged, but when he went to use it to call for help, he was dismayed to find that he had no bars, and therefore, no service.  He felt that his life was continuing its downward spiral.  He calmed himself down to think clearly about what he should do.  The last farm house he had seen was a good five miles from the direction he had just come.  He decided not to go back, but to walk forward until he came to the next farm house, and seek help.  He locked the car and began his trek.

Michael thought that he was walking toward a farmhouse, but he was walking to his destiny.

He reckoned that he had lucked out at last.  Less than a mile up the road, he saw a small farm house.  He ran the last few yards, and knocked on the door.  He feared the farmer might be in the fields, and he would have to wait for him to come home.  Then again, maybe his wife was home. 

The door was opened by a handsome young man about Michael’s age; late twenties.  He looked thoroughly shocked to see a stranger at his door.  Michael saw the amazement on the man’s face, so he spoke up first.

“Hi!  I need some help.  My car broke down about a mile down the road, and I can’t get cell phone reception.  I wonder if I could use your phone to call the AAA or some service station in the area.”

The young man got over his shock and found his voice. “There’s a good size village about ten miles up the road.  The owner of the only repair shop in town is a buddy of mine.  I’ll call him for you.  The farmer got his friend, Emanuel, on the phone, and handed it to Michael.

“Hi, my name’s Michael Moran,” he began, and then he described the problem.  “I’m sure it’s the transmission,” he concluded.

“I can get there in a couple of hours with a tow truck.  Stay at Doug’s and you can take me to your car when I get there.”

“Thanks. I’m really grateful.”

Michael turned to his host, and introduced himself.  “So, your name is Doug.  I’m Michael.”

“I heard,” Doug said, and he extended his hand for Michael to shake.  “I was about to make myself some lunch.  Are you hungry?  Would you like something to eat or drink?”

“No thanks.  I’m good, but don’t let me interfere with your lunch.  Please go right ahead.”

“Fine, but make yourself comfortable.  I know Emanuel.  If he says a couple of hours it could be a couple of days.  He’s one hundred percent Arapaho, and he has no concept of time.”

As if Doug was a prophet, Emanuel called a couple of hours later to say he couldn’t get there until tomorrow afternoon.  Michael was really pissed, but Doug said, “I’ve got a spare room.  Let’s take a ride to your car, and you can get what you need for an overnight stay.”

“That’s very hospitable of you.  I don’t know how I can thank you.”  Doug just smiled.  “It won’t take long,” Michael added.  “I keep an overnight bag packed for the motels I stayed at since I left New York.”

Doug’s face lit up.  “You’re from New York?” he asked.  “So am I.”

“You’re a New Yorker?” Michael asked.  He was equally amazed.  “What are you doing way out here?”

“I might ask you the same question.  It’s a long story.  Let’s discuss it after we get your stuff and make you comfortable.”

To be continued...

Posted: 03/27/2020