We start on them the next day. Door 42 is pretty much running itself at this point so I don’t have to be there all the time. I’m still teaching some classes, and playing with the band Friday and Saturday nights, but for the most part I live in the shop now with Al and Todd (when they can get away from their real jobs, such as they are, which is apparently most of the time). Bethy, Trina, Cracker, and Sweet Thing come in too, when they can. Bethy and Cracker are pretty good hands, so I’ll put ‘em to work. Trina and Sweet Thing just hang out and talk, which is good too. It’s nice to have company. Sweet Thing comes down a lot, she doesn’t have much else to do and she really likes being in the shop, it reminds her of being with her daddy, and Chief, and all the guys when she was a girl, all those many years ago.

Bethy’s jeep comes together pretty fast. I pull a hemi out of a crate, make it fit (the guy’s notebook on Sleepy Jeepy is a huge help) and decide to go with the driveline and axles from a WC half ton. They’re a narrower track than the three quarter ton stuff under Sleepy Jeepy, so the wheels don’t stick out so far, and are still a whole lot stronger than the stock jeep junk. The rear pinion angle is kind of a bitch, and it takes a while to get the rear drive shaft to play nice, but in about a month and a half I’m taking it for it’s first test drive and it’s pretty tits! I work out a few little bugs and after that the girls are not allowed in the shop for a while, with the exception of Sweet Thing. She can keep her mouth shut and I want her take on my finishing touches.

“Oh, it’s beautiful!” she says, “Daddy and Chief would be so proud of you boys. All the guys would. I can’t wait to see Bethy’s face! She’s going to love it.”

“Come back tomorrow at three for the unveiling,” I say, pulling the tarp back over the jeep, “I’ll have another surprise for you then, too.”

“I wouldn’t miss it for the world.”

Three o’clock the next day, everyone is gathered in the shop.

I launch straight into the schtick, “Ladies and Gentlemen, Boys and Girls, We are gathered here today to witness this woman bond with her machine in holy, mechanical matrimony! Do you, Bethy, promise to check the tire pressure, change the oil, grease the bearings, and generally try not to wreck this jeep, for as long as you both may live?”

“Damn right I do!” she says.

“Then here you go, baby!” and Hook, Todd, and I whip off the tarp. Hey, it’s a heavy tarp.

“Wow!” she gushes, running up and climbing all over it.

“You really nailed the name, too!” says Trina with a big smile.

Scripted over the rear wheels (which is about the only place to paint something on the side of a jeep) is ‘Short Fuse’ with a little, round bomb with a sparking fuse coming out. On the hood is the ‘Space Racers’ logo, with a few changes. It’s now ‘Space Racers, Too’ and there is only one car being flagged off by the green skinned moon girl, Miss Chief.

“I wanna go for a ride!” says Bethy.

“Alright, here you go,” I toss her the keys, now with an embossed leather tab that matches the ‘Short Fuse’ on the jeep, “But wait another minute, I got another surprise. For everybody.”

Trina’s excellent inventory lists showed me where I could find a crate of bomber jackets. I’ve been painting them up in the attic when I can slip away. There’s one for everybody, with the new ‘Space Racers, Too’ logo on it. And nicknames!

Mine is Chief, of course.

Al’s says, Hooked.

Christi’s is, Firecracker.

Bethy’s is, Short Fuse.

Todd’s is, Punk. At which he rolls his eyes, but then smiles and shrugs it on proudly.

Trina’s just says, Mama. And when I hand it to her she tears up and gives me a big hug and a kiss.

And when I pull out Sweet Thing’s, she starts to cry.

“Oh, God.. this is.. it’s so,” she’s having a hard time keeping it together, “My daddy, he loved you so much, Chief. It killed him when you left. He… he was never the same after that,” and she grabs me in a tight, shaking hug, taking deep breaths, trying to calm herself. Finally she steps away, steady, but with tears still streaming down her cheeks, “Thank you,” she turns, “Thank all of you. My daddy, all the guys, they would love you. They’d be so happy to know all of you are here, doing this. Sorry, this is supposed to be a party and here I am crying and going on like some silly old woman.” Then she turns and walks back to Door 42, tears still running down her cheeks, sobbing down the hallway.

“Aunt Betty!” Cracker starts to go after her, but I stop her.

“Let her go,” I say, “She’s fine. She’s really happy. There’s just a lot of old memories wrapped up in that happiness and those memories carry a lot of weight. She needs room to feel that weight and deal with it. She’ll be fine, she’s a big girl. Ok? She’ll probably be waiting for us at Door 42 with a drink and a cigarette when we get there, and be her old, leathery, hard ass self again. You’ll see.”

“I guess you’re right,” she says, “Thanks for doing that for her, for all of us, it was really sweet,” she hugs me and gives me a little kiss on the cheek.

Everybody just stands there looking somber for a bit, apparently not knowing how to proceed.

“Fuck all this maudlin, introspective shit!” I say with a big smile, “It’s time to go for a ride!” and I climb into the passenger seat of Short Fuse, “Who’s comin?”

“Hell yeah!” says Bethy, jumping into the driver’s seat.

“Let’s go!” says Punk, grabbing Cracker by the arm. They jump in the back.

I look over at Hook and Mama, who look at each other and back to me.

“We’ll see you kids back at the Door,” laughs Mama, “Don’t stay out too late!” and they walk off down the hall.

“Ok, Shorty,” I say, “this is not Sleepy Jeepy. It’s not as rowdy, but since it doesn’t have duals on the back it gets a lot more squirrely. It’s fairly stable, for all that, and a good rule of thumb is about three quarters of the throttle input on Short Fuse here will give you a similar result as you’d get in Sleepy Jeepy.”

“Got it,” she says, and lights the fuse, the straight pipes that I have kicking out just in front of the rear wheels roar to life. With a stock cam, the smooth idle is a lot more like what she’s used to from so many hours on the loader, “Oooo, I like it!” she grins the wicked grin of a speed demon and smokes us down the hall.

“You were right,” says Shorty, pulling us up in front of Door 42, ”She’s not as fast as Sleepy Jeepy,” as we get out and walk to the door, “But just as much fun, with pretty similar characteristics. And calm enough to just run around in until you jump on her! Just what I wanted. Thanks!” she hops up and gives me a little kiss as we approach the bar where Hook and Sweet Thing are sitting. Mama is behind the bar serving.

“Hey, the wild bunch is back!” says Hook jovially, “How’d it go?”

“Fast,” says Punk.

“Fun,” says Cracker.

“Sounds like a recipe for trouble if I ever heard one!” comes back Hook, ”Good for you!”

“Jesus, you guys,” says Sweet Thing, she’s got about a quarter bottle of scotch in her and is back to her old self, “If you could hear yourselves. If you could’ve heard them. You sound just like the old crew,” she laughs into her drink, “What’s gotten into you?”

“Miss Chief,” I say, taking a seat next to her at the bar.

“You know Chief, I’d say you’re right,” she says with a sideways smile at me, “Matter of fact, we’ve been talkin’ about you two while you were out settin’ the world on fire.”

“Only lies I hope, I’d hate to hear anyone was tellin’ the truth about me.”

She smiles a little wistfully and shakes her head, “Same ol’ Chief.”

Mama walks over to join the conversation, “Sorry to disappoint you, but we were telling the truth. The truth about how much good you’ve done here. You’ve been so good to all of us, we think you need to do something for yourself.”

“I thought I was doing this for myself,” I say, “I just want to be happy and have a good time, and I can’t really do that unless my friends are having a good time, and my friends can’t have a good time if I don’t have any friends, and, you know, having a bar tends to help with that. So as you can see, deep down I’m a selfish bastard.”

“Oh, come off it Chief,” puts in Shorty, “You just spent weeks building me a hot rod and didn’t even ask for a blowjob. You’re not selfish.”

“May I have a blowjob, please?” I ask politely.

“Would you like it here, or should we go someplace more public?” Shorty kicks the ball back with a naughty smile.

Everyone breaks up over this exchange.

“Oh shit, Bitsy,” Sweet Thing says softly into her glass, and looks for a moment as if she might start crying again, but then just smiles.

“It’s true though, Chief,” says Hook, once he’s gathered himself up again, “You coming in here has been like dropping a stone in the middle of a still pond. It took a while, but the ripples are reaching all the way out to the edges. Everybody feels it. Your actions have touched the lives of people you haven’t even met yet, may never meet, and they’re all the better for it. The whole council says so. You’ve met them all, by the way, they just didn’t advertise it. At first there was some mild concern over what you were doing down here, but once you got rolling and they saw the results, well… They… We all feel like you’re the one really running this whole place now, and we’re happy to let you get on with it. It’s like you’re some magical, benevolent king sent from the heavens to guide us all to glory, who does nothing but good for his subjects and doesn’t stick his nose in where it’s not needed. Just lets them get on with their business, and makes it his business to make their lives better. And that’s just what you’ve done.”

And from some dark, dusty corner of my unconscious mind I recite, “In my chariot of fire and steel, I am the first true hot rod Pharaoh. I am the last of the first, and the first of the last. The King of the Golden Arrow.”

Everybody is just looking at me now.

“What’d I say?” I ask.

They continue to stare, this is getting weird.

“Damn it Chief,” says Sweet Thing, the first to break out of the trance, “It’s time for you to get Miss Chief out and start making some runs!”

“Yeah, I know, but there’s still so much work to do on Hooked Up, and then Punk’s rod to start on, and…”

“That’s just excuses,” says Punk, “Me and Hook are smart, and we’ve got the guy’s notes to build off of, and Shorty and Cracker to give us a hand when we need it. We’ve got it handled. You’re the only one who can work on Miss Chief, and we all want to see her run.”

Everyone nods in agreement.

“That’s settled then,” says Sweet Thing, “You get that girl up on a lift, get under her skirt, and give her a thorough seeing to. Or I’ll know the reason why.”

“Yes ma’am,” I know when I’m beat.

Everyone cheers and clinks glasses, and it’s a grand old time until it’s time to go home. Shorty runs us back to the house in Short Fuse, still fresh with excitement. After a while, Mama and I are lying in bed while Shorty is in the shower.

“You know, that was really great what you did today. For Shorty, for me, for everybody. But especially for Sweet Thing. I love you for that,” and she kisses me.

Meanwhile, Shorty, fresh and still naked from the shower, is creeping up along the side of the bed, “Cuddle kitten gonna… Pounce!” and she leaps up onto us and smothers us both with tickles and kisses, and then… fade to black.