Pit Stop
An accidental friendship from another world
I could swear it was there just a second ago: a giant cone-shaped spaceship on three legs like skillets bent up at the handle. It was as wide as a grain silo, parked behind the house. One second it’s there, then the next it’s gone. It just vanished. It’s alright if you don’t believe me, since I’m all alone here on the farm. You might think I come up with wild stories just to keep myself company. But I knew the ship was still there because the indents the feet made in the grass were still there too. That told me I wasn’t crazy.
I start to go up to where the spaceship should be so I can see how it made itself invisible. I’m a tinkerer so those sorts of things interest me. But suddenly there’s this loud banging coming from inside the barn. So I hook my thumbs in my coveralls and mosey in that direction.
As I stand in the doorway I see the drawers of my tool chest open and close all by themselves. A drawer slides open, tools are thrown around like something is being looked for, then the drawer is slammed shut, frustrated-like. Even though there’s no one there I say “Whatcha lookin’ for?”
The clattering stops. For a minute nothing happens, and I wish my dog were ten years younger and not sleeping on the danged porch. Then suddenly, what do you know? There it is, standing there staring at me. Now I wouldn’t call it a person as such. It’s got these long, skinny arms and legs the color of ash. Also has these big ol’ eyes that are black as coal, with a tiny mouth and nose. You know, like an alien.
Anyway, even though it’s trespassing I’m not mad. It’s been three months since Marge passed and a week since I’d said hello to anyone but the dog. So, I tell it, “I can help ya fix it.”
It seems to consider my offer. Then it closes a drawer and walks on past me to go back outside. I fetch my toolbox and follow and what do you know? The ship’s back in full view too.
It goes up and opens a panel. I stand on the other side, put my box on the ground and take a look. Well, it’s plain the ship is not from around these parts. But the more I look at all the tubes and gadgets and whatnot it all kind of makes sense. Like there must be something universal about engine repair.
One of the tubes looks to be pinched by a pump-like thing. There is some sort of caliper with a bolt on one end, so I try a half-inch crescent wrench on it. Nope, too big. So I drop it back in the toolbox and try an eleven millimeter instead. And the damn thing fit.
“Figures you’d be using metric,” I joke, but it doesn’t say nothin’ back. Doesn’t make any noise at all. I’m not even sure it’s breathing. But it does have a faint smell that reminds me of roasted peanuts.
Anyway, I’m able to loosen the bolt, but we still have to get the tube out of there. So, I take my trusty jaw pliers and offer them to my new friend.
“Here,” I say. “Take this.” It pauses but catches on and takes the tool with a four-fingered hand. “Now grab onto that, see?” I point at the tube. “But not too tight or you’ll break it.”
It follows my instructions. I turn the bolt, and the contraption opens. My friend carefully pulls the tube free, and I screw the bolt back down. Then I drop my wrench into the toolbox and my friend drops the pliers right alongside them.
“Well go on,” I say. “See if she runs.”
The panel is shut closed and the lines around it melt away like ice into water. Pretty slick. It puts a hand on the side of the ship and there is a sort of rumble that tells me it’s working again.
“Listen to that purr,” I say. I raise my hand to pat my friend on the back but stop. We just met after all and I don’t know how it’d react. When it takes its hand away from the ship the engine stops. I figure it’s time to celebrate.
“How about an iced tea,” I say. “If you’ve got the time.” I know it doesn’t really understand me, but it feels nice to say.
Now, what happened next still gets me. It pats me on the back! It looks at me and I can see my reflection in those big black eyes. There’s no expression as such, but I can sense it thanking me. Still gives me goosebumps.
Anyway, my friend vanishes right in front of me, along with the ship. The rumble is back with a little dust up, and it’s all over faster than green grass through a goose. I see those indents in the lawn fade away too like they was never there.
Anyway, that’s my story, Grandson, as crazy as it sounds. Glad you came all the way out here to hear me tell it. It’s been too long. Now how about that iced tea?
