‘74 Chevy Nova

1. Transfer Of Title: A Boy’s First Car


My friend Mindy
Was selling her car.

She was a year or two older than me
And she loved to get high.

She showed me how you could blow pot smoke
Into somebody else’s mouth
And use that as an excuse
To make out with them.

We got blazed in that car
Plenty of times.

I was very familiar with the car’s interior.

The way the seats reclined waaaay back

All the way
Crushing the rear bench seat
As Mindy climbed on top
And mounted me
Her shadow moving
In the dense cannabis fog
Her white arched throat
And kinky black hair
Were all that were visible
To me
In the ganja haze
Filling the interior.

She had her way.

Her brother
Owned the car before her
Until he upgraded
To a Charger
And sold the Nova to his sis.

He liked to party too.

They both were coming up
Off of the Seventies.

My Dad came with me
On a summer day
To help inspect the car.

The Nova sat parked next to the Charger
All muscle.

Still somewhat new and gleaming.

That made it a little sad for the Nova
And ridiculously sexy for the Charger.

The Nova was a little beat up
But it was perfect
To someone who had never
Owned a vehicle before.

Plus I could afford it.

Eight years old...

It was Forest Green with a lot of
Sun fading
To the paint.

It had a cream pebbled vinyl hardtop.

My dad was unaware
Of my trysts with Mindy
In that car
And
As he looked under the hood
Kicked the tires
And listened to the engine
As it came to life

I’d catch Mindy
Winking or giving me a sly smile
Behind my father’s back.

I was reminded of
Her giving me rides home from work
That took way longer
Than usual.

My dad
Did and said
The usual fatherly things
During the inspection.

It was a tank.
3,200 lbs of
US steel.

Six Cylinders.

We talked on the way home.

“It is a 74.”

“It looks ok, a little rust, not much, but it’s your money.”

“You just have to remember that it’s a used car and drive it carefully.”

“You’re just gonna hafta make sure you do all of the maintenance.”

“Is it really the car you wanna drive?”.

“It smells to hell of cigarettes. You gonna be able to deal with that?”

I looked at my dad and smiled.

In a few days
I was the proud owner
Of a used
‘74 Chevy Nova.

Faded Forest Green.



2. Power Glide Transmission


The Nova had amazing acceleration.

As soon as I put my foot
On the pedal
3200 lbs of prime teen testosterone
Would jump forward
Smoothly and quickly.

Power steering.

It was a dream.

One year later
I was on a coke run
Up on 162nd and Amsterdam.

The Columbians there
Knew my car well
As it breathed heavily
I guided it slowly
Down the dark
Dangerous
Ebony night streets.

They would shoot out the street lamps
So that surveilance
And undercover
Couldn’t see their activity.

After making the score
I headed downtown
Via the West Side Highway.

It was somewhere down
At the Meat Packing District
That I avoided getting into an accident.

We were high.

The stopped traffic
Came up too fast
And to avoid a crash
I pulled over into the outer lanes
Of the West Side Highway.

It was a six to eight lane highway.

When you dropped off of the elevated part
And went South past the piers
It turned
From six lanes...
Three each side
To eight lanes...
Four lanes each side
And the four lanes in each direction
Were divided by a concrete curb
Down the middle.

I decided to cut over the concrete median
To avoid getting into an accident..

“Callump, callump!”

It was just like a movie.

The car quickly lurching to the right
Driving over a concrete curb
And settling down again
In the nearest lane
And continuing to drive
As if nothing had happened.

I don’t even remember car horns.

It was like that shit happened
All of the time.

We stopped at a traffic light
And did a few lines
While a cabbie
Looked over to his right
Giving us the solid thumbs up.

The light changed to green.

I gave it the gas.




3. Vinyl Interior


“Keep your eyes peeled for another barstool.”
“I need one more.”

My neighbor’s words
Crawled forth from my soaked brain.

I was in the East Village
Hanging out with the local color
Drinking too much Tequila
And getting stupid.

I stole a barstool
From the dive I was in
And the bouncer
Chased me down the street.

I
Running
Carrying a barstool
He
Right behind me
Cursing me out.
I
Turning the corner
Running up Avenue D
Somehow
Out pacing him.
He
Stopped
Defeated
Turning around
Returning with no barstool
No head of the enemy.

I stood in the street
In the early AM
Trying to shove the barstool
Into the back of the ‘74 Nova.
It had two doors.
The front seats flipped forward
And I was trying to jam
The prize
Into the backseat.


Meanwhile
The front seat on the drivers side
Is pressing forward into the horn
Making it go off.

I drove home
And quietly put the barstool
On my neighbors
Steps
Like a cat
Leaving it’s trophy kill
For it’s owner to find.

A gift.

It wasn’t until the next day
That I noticed
I had torn the vinyl
Across the back seat.

I’ve always been wary of tequila
Since then.



4. Death: Pedal To The Metal


Years later
A group of us were driving back to Baltimore
From DC.

We had just seen a brilliant concert
By the Slovenian band Laibach.

Stark and simple.

Synchronised military drumming.
Loud trumpets of controlled noise
Dark Socialist
Graveyard vocals
Amidst
Naked bright airplane lights.

The car was packed.

One of the girls in the back seat
Was flipping out the whole ride back.

I don’t know what she was on
But it got worse
And worse
The closer we got to Baltimore.

I was trying to drive
Focus
But it was impossible with that bitch
Screaming
And rambling.

She was insane!

The group as a whole
Were trying to keep her present
While trying to calm me down as well.

One of us was going to tip over.

I don’t know how many times
I told her to

“Shut the fuck up! I’m trying to drive!”

I would catch her crazed wig out
In the rear view mirror.

At the top of her lungs

“They’re fucking communists I tell you!”
“We just saw fucking communists!”

Off of 95
Driving through the streets of Baltimore
Getting close to where I lived.
I was actually counting down.

But
She does it.

She breaks me.

I turn around and scream at her

“Shut the fuck up you fucking bitch!”
“I’ve had to listen to your fucking shit the whole way home!”
“I swear to god I’ll...”

BAAMMM!!!

The car jumped and stopped.

The car hung on a curb
The headlights flooded an empty grassy lot.

I got out of the car
And immediately blew up at her
Ripping her out from the back seat.

I shook her and was about to hit her
When she wriggled free
Hysterically.

She took off running
Never to be seen again.

I could tell the car was history.

The bottom was shredded.

I got back in
And backed it out into the road
Before the cops came.

It was two blocks to my house.

But
I made it
Driving on two blown out front tires
The Nova spilling it’s guts out
Along the way.

The car died silently
Overnight
Parked in front of my apartment building.

The following day
I watched it being towed away
To some anonymous graveyard.

I think
That there were tears in my eyes
As the faded green paint
And cream pebbled vinyl top
Disappeared
West on Madison Street
And I was left alone
Staring into puddles
Of oil
Transmission fluid
And engine coolant
That the sun
Was reflecting off of
Like a kaleidoscope.

From within those colored life fluids
Forming on the warm black tar

The white light came on...