PUMP
Traffic on the 405 was moving fast that morning. Austen made it out of Van Nuys in record time, whizzing down the eight lane freeway past Sepulveda Basin. Like many of the roads in Los Angeles it wasn’t much to look at, but Austen appreciated the uninterrupted run to Sherman Oaks. He took the exit onto the 101 ramp and that’s where his luck ended; traffic was at a standstill. Congestion was a fact of life here and he was getting used to it already. Rush hour was more like three hours. But of course it was crowded, what could you expect? Everybody wanted to be here. He put on some Joni Mitchell and tried to find a rhythm in the syncopated stop-start flow of the vehicles. Austen handled well under pressure, everyone said so. His deep reserve of calm came from his firm resolve. He always had a plan and everything he did was in service of his goals. A forty minute variance in his commuting time was nothing; the highest gas tax in the United States was a small price to pay; living out of a storage unit in Van Nuys and eating at the nearest gas station was a walk in the park. It was all worth it to be in LA.
Things sped up again after the exit to Laurel Canyon Boulevard. He was still in awe of the iconic palm trees lining the road, some as tall as 100 feet. Like Austen most of them were transplants to California, imported in the 1920s from Mexico, the Mediterranean and the Canary Islands. Austen hailed from Connecticut and had arrived in LA three weeks ago to chase his dreams - after a few months’ detour in Florida, which was best forgotten for now. The job at PUMP was a stroke of luck. Stella Delacroix had hired him on the spot when she found out that he was an aspiring songwriter. She had a fondness for scrappy young dreamers trying to get a break in the industry and had taken many under her wing over the years. Of course it didn’t hurt that he looked great in the uniform.
Tree-lined Laurel Canyon Boulevard took him through Studio City, past the homes of the rich and famous to the narrow, winding route through the Hollywood Hills. This was his favourite part, the Los Angeles he’d always dreamed of. He’d spotted Angelyne around here once, the famous pink corvette said to grant good luck for a day to anyone who saw her. That was the day he got the job at PUMP. Relaxed into the curves of the road and mind wandering now, he wondered if JT and Leila would be back together this week and if there would be any fresh drama between the girls. The new hostess Missy had been trying to stay out of it, but she was the kind of natural beauty who could stop traffic and the other girls hadn’t warmed up to her yet. Austen felt for her, she was a sweet kid. The road opened out to Crescent Heights Boulevard with more Mexican fan palms towering high above. Austen took the turn onto Santa Monica Boulevard and then there he was in West Hollywood, where lanterns are strung criss-cross above the road all the way to PUMP.
He rolled into the restaurant, still punctual despite the traffic.
“Hey Kentucky.”
Missy, a Rapid Blue 2022 Chevrolet Corvette with Adrenaline Red interior, was folding napkins.
“Hayy Texas!”
“Why’s Verity got you hidden back here rolling napkins?”
“Ah’ve gotta pay mah dues Austen, jest like everyone else here did.”
“Well, maybe. But I think she might be a little jealous of you. She hasn’t made me roll napkins.”
Verity, a 2020 Toyota Prius with a baby pink wrap and gold rims, wheeled around the corner from the kitchen.
“That’s because I’m going to make you polish the glassware.”
She laughed like her engine was stalling.
“And of course I’m jealous of Missy. She’s the pretty new face around here and her cute little bumper is getting all of the biggest tips. Enjoy it while it lasts sweetie. By the way, watch out for Leila tonight. She and JT have broken up again and she is revved up.”
Leila wasn’t around yet and JT would clock in much later, if he showed up at all. Missy and Austen were rostered on early that week so that Verity could show them the ropes. Austen found her a little annoying, but she was genuinely helpful - full of advice about working at PUMP, gossip about the dynamics between the staff, and tips about generally thriving in LA. She quizzed him on the menu as he polished glasses.
“What’s in the pumptini?”
“Premium unleaded with 10% ethanol and a shot of polyisobutylene.”
“How about the sidecar?”
“Diesel, cetane boosters and ethylene-vinyl acetate. With biodiesel available on request.”
“The goat cheese balls?”
“Goat cheese and breadcrumbs.”
“You’ll do alright here, kid.”
“Hey Verity, is Ivan working tonight?”
He’d only met the bartender in passing, but the striking Porsche had made an impression on him already.
“He’ll be in later. We’re going to need all hands on deck, there’s a movie premiere tonight and the afterparty is going to be here. Stella will definitely make an appearance, so don’t do anything stupid. Now, have you added me on Insta yet? My new single is coming out next week. You’re a songwriter, right? We should totally collab …”
***
Verity was right, it was a busy night, but Austen was good at thinking on his wheels. His section was packed and each table was turning over hundreds of dollars. He didn't realise until Verity told him afterwards that the beautiful Lexus he was serving pumptinis to was Alexandra D’Addario. JT and Leila finally turned up - separately - and after being in gear for hours Austen finally got a break. He parked up in the alleyway and was enjoying the feeling of his engine cooling off when he heard something strange. From somewhere in the shadows came the sound of windshield wipers on high. It hadn’t rained all week.
“Is somebody there?”
“Au - Austen?”
Missy rolled into the light, windshield streaked with fluid and wipers sweeping back and forth.
“Why are you crying Missy? What happened?”
“Oh Austen, ah’m jest about fit to reverse into a ditch!”
Fresh jets of fluid showered Missy’s windscreen.
“It’s luh - luh - Leila,” she sobbed, “she’s startin’ rumours about me. Sayin’ ah had a sugar daddy and all kindsa foul things.”
“Well gosh Missy, I don’t know why she’d say something like that.”
Leila, a 2023 Verde Scandal Lamborghini Aventador, rolled out into the alleyway.
“Look chica, the last thing I want to do is get involved with some co-worker’s drama, but I just thought you should know what people have been saying about you. I brought it up with you, girl-to-girl, because if it was me I’d want to know that people are talking about me behind my back.”
“Whut people Leila? Ah was doin’ jest fine here until you started spreadin’ all kinds of nasty fumes about. Ah’m so mad you could cook an egg on me right now!”
Austen tried to intervene -
“Why is it anyone’s business who had a sugar daddy?”
- but the girls were both honking now and Missy was spinning her wheels.
Verity joined them in the cloud of smoke.
“Who’s burning rubber out here?”
“The new girl can’t take the heat. This is LA honey, people are gonna talk.”
Suddenly they were all dazzled by the high beams of a petite, shapely classic car.
“Why the hell are four of my staff out here at 10pm on a Friday night?”
The clipped English voice of Stella Delacroix, a champagne-coloured 1965 Aston Martin DB5, instantly had everyone’s coolant flowing. The three pomeranians in her back seat yipped at Leila.
“She’s right guys, why don’t you give Missy some space?”
Leila wheeled back into the restaurant in a huff, hazard lights flickering.
“What’s going on here? Have you been crying, Missy?”
“Ah’m sorry Stella, ah usually don’t get shook up like this. It’s jest Laila’s been sayin’ some things about me.”
“She did the same thing to me when I started,” Verity indicated towards the door, “she’s not a girl’s girl. Let me guess, you dated tractors in Kentucky? You’re a homewrecker? You’ve got a sugar daddy?”
“Yep, that’s the one.”
“She’s just saying that because you’re pretty, darling. And so what if you do have a sugar daddy? If anybody wanted to pay for my waxes, I’d probably have one too! Don’t tell my husband,” Stella chuckled heartily. “Now get back to work! Those cocktails ain’t gonna pump themselves!”
***
It was after closing before Austen had a chance to talk to Ivan. His Dolomite Silver body gleamed behind the bar as he cleaned up. JT had dipped out already, leaving Ivan to close by himself.
“Anything I can do to help?”
“Oh that’s kind - it’s Austen, right? Could you spread these rags on that spill over there?”
“Not a problem.”
He felt his pistons flutter as Ivan watched him soak up the fuel.
“So are you Austin as in Texas?”
“As in Jane Austen. My mom’s an English teacher.”
“And are you a single man in possession of a good fortune?”
Austen was running hot now.
“Well my fortune is pretty modest right now, but I’m definitely single.”
“I guess you’re not in want of a wife then. The ladies will be disappointed.”
Ivan detached something from above his front wheel that Austen hadn’t noticed until now. It looked like he had a gas door there, but it was in the wrong place. His staring was obvious.
“I’m an EV. A 2020 Taycan Turbo S, to be exact.”
“Oh god of course you are, I’m sorry! I'm actually a hybrid myself, I’ve just never seen … I never thought about how you would …”
PUMP had a few booths fitted with chargers for the occasional EVs who came in with their gas-fuelled friends, but Austen had never given them much thought. The only thing on the menu they could have was a shot of brake fluid or coolant; often they didn’t order anything.
“Stella had this installed for me. I don’t always use it, it’s not like I can’t hold a charge. But it is helpful to have the option sometimes.”
“She seems like a great lady.”
“She is, but really it’s just basic accessibility. All workplaces should have them. The world just isn’t set up for guys like me, but things are changing. Slowly.”
Ivan wheeled out from behind the bar and for the first time Austen saw all the smooth curves of his frame.
“So is there always this much drama here?”
“No, there’s usually more. JT’s been keeping his head down lately.”
“I guess it’s what I signed up for, moving to LA and getting a job at a restaurant full of hot young wannabes. Have you ever had a sugar daddy, Ivan?”
Austen didn’t know why he said it and was immediately mortified.
“Why? Are you looking for one?” Ivan winked. “Catch you later, Austen.”
***
Jason “JT” Taylor was a strapping Dark Red Mica Metallic 2022 Toyota Landcruiser 300. He could barely fit behind the bar at PUMP and he barely did anything when he was there. Other than being workshy, he had an attitude. He acted like he was an off-duty celebrity and the restaurant’s patrons were fans bothering him for autographs. Austen couldn’t figure out why Stella had a soft spot for him. But he had to admit, JT looked good. When he and Leila were together, they were one of the hottest couples in WeHo. When they were broken up, JT would flirt outrageously with the female patrons to make her jealous.
Verity had told Austen a lot about JT. He had picked up a habit for nitrous oxide during his modelling days in Miami and was on his third cylinder head from the increased wear. Austen had never touched the stuff himself, but he’d met a lot of young trucks in Florida who had a NOS kit installed so they could get between casting calls faster and perform better on camera. It was rife in Los Angeles too, both for work and play, and Austen suspected that JT wasn’t the only PUMP staffer who indulged. He was the most brazen though, notorious around the city for crawling home on a Sunday morning with his hazards flashing after a long night at the speedway.
JT had taken a shine to Austen for reasons known only to himself. Perhaps because they were both trucks there was an instinct to stick together, although Austen, a 2022 Cactus Gray Ford Maverick, was of a much lighter and more compact build, presenting no threat to JT’s dominance in the hierarchy of bulk.
“Whatta ya think of that new girl? Seen the body on her? I’d hit that faster than a capacitive discharge ignition, but Leila would kill me. Probably kill her too.”
“She’s a sweet girl, and she’s doing great on the hostess stand too. Seems like some of the girls might be giving her a hard time though.”
A black Chevy Cruze rolled up to the bar and asked JT if he recommended the biodiesel.
“You think I drink that shit? You might as well pump the oil out of the deep fryer, sweetheart.”
“Excuse him, ma’am. Jason, can we get this nice lady the drink she wants?”
Austen valeted the flustered and seemingly titillated customer to a booth and delivered her drink.
“You know they’re using sustainable fuel in Formula 1 now.”
“The day I start drinking anything other than fossil you better check my registration, because that ain’t me. It means that Leila has finally replaced me with a newer model.”
Something clicked in Austen’s electronic control unit.
“Hold up, what’s the date today? Heck JT, yesterday was my registration day and I totally forgot.”
“Then let’s hit the track tonight dude! Ask the girls too, we’ll see how that Kentucky chick moves.”
Maybe JT was onto something; it might just be what they all needed. Throughout the shift Austen persuaded the whole crew to join him for a few rounds after work. After closing they rolled out together in a convoy: JT and Leila in front, then Verity and Ivan, with Austen and Missy bringing up the rear.
The racetrack in Inglewood was a staple of LA nightlife, an expansive course with many curves, chicanes and a couple of tight hairpin turns. Serious athletes trained there during the day, but evenings were for everybody. Aside from the main track there were burn out pads, a separate drift track and a section of dirt road. Bright lights illuminated the facility and music blasted from a truck with huge speakers. Vehicles mingled on the sidelines between laps, watching others on the track. Leila and JT hit the course straight away, eager for the thrill of the race and not shy about having an audience. Austen was keen to move too, but first he made sure everyone was getting along.
“Hey Verity, I saw that John Mayer liked one of your posts. That’s crazy, do you know him?”
“I mean you could say that … I rode him once.”
John Mayer was a famous singer-songwriter and also a yacht.
“Oh mah gawwwd Verity! Is he really 70 foot?”
Instantly she had a captive audience in Missy and the two hunkered down to gossip. Austen flashed his headlights at Ivan.
“How’s your battery? Got a couple laps in you?”
“More than that. Come see if you can keep up.”
On the track Ivan hit 60 mph in 2.4 seconds. His acceleration was almost violent, far beyond what Austen could have imagined, pulling forward like everyone else was stuck in molasses. He handled confidently at speed, his axles independently controlled by his two motors, reactions infinitesimally quick and completely in command of the track. Austen trailed behind, wishing he’d stayed on the sidelines so he could just watch. Even JT was impressed when Ivan passed him.
“Jeez, maybe I should try chugging current too!”
Ivan had lapped Austen twice by the time they were done, close enough for the slipstream to shake him a little as he passed. They all gathered off the track, engines pinging as they cooled. Missy and Verity gassed them up for their performance.
“But what about you ladies, aren’t you gonna take a spin?”
“I’m more of a one-trick pony. Wanna see it?”
Verity popped a wheelie and everybody cheered.
“What about you Missy? I bet you’re fast as hell.”
“Aw, ah’m too shy to be fancy wheelin’ in front of all these folks. How about ah show ya’ll how we do it in Kentucky?”
Missy rolled over to the dirt road and turned hard into a donut, spinning her wheels and kicking up clouds of dust. Austen and Verity honked and JT hollered, “she doesn’t mind getting her tires dirty!”
“Hey hot wheels, if you can do that you’re halfway to drifting. Want me to show you how?”
Missy looked surprised.
“Well sure Leila!”
Austen was thrilled with the rapprochement. The evening had gone even better than he had hoped. Leila and Missy hit the drift track together while JT took a few more laps of the main course, faster this time and punctuated with the telltale hiss of nitrous. Verity left with some Hondas she knew from pilates and Ivan headed home to charge. Eventually Leila and JT rolled out together to a party in Beverly Hills, leaving Austen to escort Missy home to Santa Monica.
“Did you have fun tonight Miss?”
“You bet ah did! That Leila ain’t so bad after all.”
“I knew she’d warm up to you if she just had the chance to see what a great girl you are.”
As they cruised past the airport Missy went quiet.
“Austen, there’s somethin’ ah bin wanting to tell ya. You know all that business about sugar daddies ‘n’ such?”
“Oh my gosh, I would hope that’s been parked for good. Wasn’t Leila just talking about joining AutoFans herself? I don’t want to hear another word from her about some made-up rumour.”
“Well here’s the thing … it’s not one hundred percent fictional. When ah first got to LA ah met this big-shot movie producer. He made me all kindsa promises about puttin' me forward for roles and introducin’ me to the right people. Even paid for me to get serviced and bought me little accessories. He wus married so ah thought it was all on the level! Ah’m such an idiot. Anyways, when ah wouldn’t have an affair with him he slammed the brakes on helpin’ me with mah career. Not only that, he said he’d tell all those important people that ah’m - uncooperative and - and -”
She was tearing up. Austen guided her into the slow lane and put his hazards on.
“It’s alright Missy, I’m so sorry that happened. You didn’t do anything wrong. There are awful people in this world who sometimes try to take advantage of honest people like you.”
“Oh Austen, ah jest feel so dirty! Ah don’t want you to think badly of me, but ah had to tell you the truth.”
“You’re not dirty Missy. Look, I’ve never told anyone this, but when I left Connecticut I hardly had a penny to my name. I saved up for months to move to LA, but right before I was due to leave my Mom was in an accident and needed repairs. Her insurance wouldn’t cover it, so we had to pay out of pocket and that burned through most of my savings. I couldn’t bear to go back to my job at Walmart and save up again, so I started looking for opportunities out of state. Anything to get me closer to LA. I signed up with a modelling agency in Miami that promised me steady work and moved to Florida for a few months. Well it turned out the work wasn’t exactly steady, but I learned pretty quick how models can make real money.”
“You mean … you had a sugar daddy?”
“I had about seven. I got what I needed fast and got out of there. Sometimes our best-laid plans go off-track and we have to improvise. That doesn’t make us dirty or bad Missy, that’s just life.”
They had arrived at Missy’s building and idled outside for a minute.
“Thank you Austen, this really means the world to me. You’ve been lookin’ out for me since day one.”
“Nothing to it Missy, no need to thank me.”
“There’s actually somethin’ else ah gotta tell ya. Lately ah’ve gotten to wonderin’ if it’s jest that you’re a really great guy, or if there might be some kinda spark between us …”
Her body gleamed under the streetlights, still slightly dusty around her wheels from the track. There had been moments when Austen had wondered the same thing, but looking at this kind, beautiful girl now he knew that it was not meant to be.
“Anyone would be lucky to have you Missy, but I think my engine belongs to another.”
Her headlights flickered a little, but she was smiling.
“Well whoever it is they better appreciate ya, or they’ll have me to reckon with! G’night Austen.”
“Goodnight Missy.”
En route to Van Nuys he texted Ivan to check that he’d got home safe.
My range isn’t that bad! Still at 37% when I got home. Could’ve lapped you a couple more times
I don’t doubt it, you were incredible out there. Thanks for coming!
Sure, it was fun :)
Would you wanna come to a thing I’m djing at? Kinda underground and maybe not 100% legal, so haven’t put the word out. Might be a side of LA you haven’t seen yet. Tomorrow night
Intriguing! Yeah would love to, send me the deets :)
He pulled into the storage unit and turned his engine off, replaying in his mind the smooth silver body passing him so close, quick as a fish.
***
Lost in the outskirts of Oro Grande, Austen wished that Ivan had just sent him GPS co-ordinates. Without recourse to sat nav he didn’t have the greatest sense of direction. He doubled back to the main road and tried again to find the turnoff to the abandoned quarry. The dirt roads all looked the same as he counted them off, then the third turn on the right took him down where he’d already been and it petered out to nothing. But wait, tire tracks veering off to the left traced out a faint road - if you could even call it that - and following that he could see lights ahead. The tracks connected with another unsealed road, which followed a smooth gradient down into the flat bottom of the quarry. The walls of rock formed a giant arena around a couple of hundred vehicles gathered around a sound system powered by a huge generator.
He hung back for a minute, watching the crowd dancing to brakebeat. He’d never seen such a mixture of makes, bodies and aesthetics in one place before. He could definitely see some illegal modifications and some folks who looked unregistered. An old schoolbus painted with flowers and peace signs was grinding with an off-duty ambulance. Muscle cars bounced next to vans encrusted with bumper stickers, underglow and brake lights flashing with the beat. He rolled towards the front and saw an orange tow truck behind the decks - good, Ivan hadn’t started yet.
“You made it.” Ivan wheeled up beside him.
“Only just! Is this thing so secret that we can’t put the location into Maps?
“No internet connection out here, and if you’d used sat nav you’d be lost in the desert by now. Heard of paper roads?”
Austen indicated no.
“Roads that only exist on paper. Either they’re not there anymore, or they were never built in the first place. They’re all over this part of the desert. Plans get lodged for developments that never happen and the data feeds into sat nav. That’s how folks end up stuck in the desert, out of gas and with their electronics frying in the heat.”
“Well in that case, thanks for the old-school directions. But maybe next time I’ll come before dark.”
The tow truck was building up to the end of her set.
“I’m up next, I gotta go get ready. I’ll see you after.”
Two Kia MILFwagons who looked like they’d taken a wrong turn on the school run chatted with Austen while he waited in the crowd.
“I like gravel trap, but Tracie’s more into garage.”
“But we both love Slipstream.”
“Who’s that?”
“Oh you’ll see, he’s on next!”
Austen laughed. “That’s my friend from work!”
“You know him? He’s so hot on the decks. And so handsome too.”
“DJ Slipstream huh? Yeah, that checks out.”
The lights dimmed and ethereal ambient sounds played as Ivan took his place behind the decks. A projector somewhere shone an image onto him, a moving pattern resembling an oil slick on water. A sample of a haunting Balkan folk melody played on a loop, each time layered with another level of instrumentation, then back to its simplest form again. Everything was still for a moment. And then the beat dropped.
***
It was 4am before the rave started breaking up. Austen stayed the whole time, sometimes dancing with Ivan and sometimes with strangers. Running hot in the cold desert air, vibrating with the magic of the evening, he felt like anything could happen.
“How’re you getting home?”
“Same way as you. I was charging off the generator during my set.”
“I was gonna take the long way back through Santa Clarita. See some more of the desert. You wanna come with?”
Ivan’s headlights twinkled.
“You’re a real off-roader huh? Sure, I’ll keep you company.”
Once they were past Victorville the roads were deserted. The stars were so bright and Pearblossom Highway so straight they could see a clear mile ahead as they rolled in tandem.
“Y’know I’ve been trying to figure something out. What kind of colour is Cactus Gray?”
“Well, it’s in the name.”
“It’s not though - not just gray. When you’re at PUMP you look gray, but in the lights before you looked kind of green. And out here, under the stars, you’re definitely blue.”
Austen’s radiator gurgled at the thought of Ivan watching him over the past weeks.
“I don’t think anyone’s ever looked at me that close before.”
“Well they’re missing out. If I speed up a little, will you stay with me?”
“Do you mean - ” but Ivan was already accelerating.
Austen matched his speed as closely as possible. He could sense Ivan’s two electric motors already nearing 10,000 RPM, far above what an internal combustion engine could ever reach, but he intuitively synced his own system to a proportionate rate. They reached 80mph and held steady.
“In about a quarter mile there’s an adopt-a-highway sign. Stay just like this until then, ok?”
Austen trusted him completely. “OK.”
“Here it comes …”
They reached the agreed point and perfectly attuned to one another they slipped into neutral. Their bodies were flung forwards by the force of their own momentum, engines disengaged from wheels, hurtling into the night and flirting with the entropy to which they would one day both succumb. Their speed dropped off as they coasted, until at around 30mph they lazily pulled over and idled together under the stars.
“Got another round in you?”
Ivan winked. “More than that.”
***
Winter in Los Angeles was mild and wet. Austen moved out of his storage unit into a proper parking building in Pico-Union, not too far from Ivan’s place. Missy started dating a college athlete and JT and Leila broke up again. Verity got a new wrap - pearlescent white this time, with a Hello Kitty decal.
When the war broke out it seemed distant at first, but once gas prices hit $4 a gallon business started slowing down at PUMP. It wasn’t just the financial pressure; there was an uneasy mood in the city and people weren’t going out as much. LA was its own world to some extent, but even the staff at PUMP - half of whom had never voted - had the sense that the world as they knew it was sitting on shaky foundations. Then the prices kept rising and the city slowed down. People were taking their time and moving smoothly to conserve energy. Traffic thinned, except for the huge queues outside discount gas stations, and when they ran out of fuel for the day, any gas station. Ivan started working the floor at PUMP to help the fuel-engine staff, but the restaurant was so quiet it was hardly needed. JT became more erratic than usual, pulling out of half of his shifts, and Stella had Leila covering the bar. After the worst weekend yet, she called them all in for a meeting.
“People are saying that these are unprecedented times, but I’m old enough to remember the oil crisis in the UK in the 70s. That didn’t last forever and neither will this, but I’m afraid I can’t keep the restaurant open for the time being. The overheads are just too damn high. I can afford to pay you all a stipend for the next few weeks, but I’ll understand if you have to seek employment elsewhere. I’m sorry, hospitality is a tough business. I hope to see you all back here again soon.”
Stella’s decision was prescient. Five days later the state of California implemented priority fuel allocation for emergency services and essential industries and a curfew for non-essential travel. Businesses all over the city closed their doors and the state issued rent relief payments to the tens of thousands of newly unemployed. Civilian aircraft were grounded and marine vehicles were confined to the coast. In a silver lining for Verity, John Mayer was berthed near her condo in Marina del Rey.
Austen thought about going back to Connecticut, but by then it was already too late. No one knew how long this would take or how bad it would get. There was talk of a ground invasion in that faraway country, which would divert even more fuel to the military. Ivan invited Austen to stay at his place for the time being, insisting that he needed the company. He had joined a volunteer fleet of EVs acting as auxiliaries for civic and emergency services. Twice a week he had a slot on an internet radio station. Meanwhile Austen’s movements were limited. He meant to work on his writing, but instead he spent a lot of time watching dashcam footage on YouTube and reading Reddit threads about the war.
Their erotic connection continued in the forms that it could - Ivan sparked Austen’s battery every night - but the heightened circumstances rapidly accelerated their relationship beyond the mechanical. On Ivan’s days off they rolled to MacArthur park to watch the animals that had started to appear in the city. Rabbits and quails bobbed about in the unmown grass and a red-tailed hawk soared overhead.
“It’s only lately that I’ve really understood what Joni Mitchell was singing about in Big Yellow Taxi. I used to wonder what was wrong with putting up a parking lot, but now I see it.”
“Are you getting radicalised on Reddit?”
“Maybe a little. Sometimes I think we’re going the way of the dinosaurs. You not so much, but me for sure.”
“There’s always biofuels. You could be drinking vegetable oil in ten years.”
“Yeah maybe. Or maybe it’s all greenwashing and we’ll never make big enough changes in time.”
“How’s the writing going? Had any breakthroughs yet?”
Austen groaned. “I don’t wanna talk about it.”
One evening Austen was up late reading analysis of a possible peace deal. The last few days had felt less heavy, like there might be some light at the end of the tunnel. He was just about to turn off for the night when Ivan came home, pale and quiet.
“What’s wrong? Did something happen on your shift?
“Yeah, a really bad wreck in Sepulveda Canyon. An 18-wheeler veered off the road and took another vehicle with him. A Landcruiser.”
Austen stared at him. “You don’t mean?”
“It was JT. They were both on nitrous. Broke clean through the barrier.”
Once word got out, Stella invited them all to gather at PUMP to talk about what had happened. Verity was distraught and Leila was silent; Missy comforted them both as best she could. Austen was still in shock. It didn’t feel real. JT never had a chance of surviving the accident and now his mangled body was interred in a junkyard in Sun Valley. Stella took the floor.
“I don’t know what to say to you all, this is a tragedy beyond what words can express. I know that you will all be feeling the same grief that I am, but there’s one thing I do want to tell you. JT was a donor and some parts of him were salvaged. Even though he’s no longer with us, some of him will live on.”
Verity burst into fresh tears. Austen exchanged a look with Ivan; he wouldn’t have guessed that JT was a donor. Did he have a selfless side that none of them knew about?
“H-he w-wanted to work for the U.N. when he was in college,” sobbed Verity. “He told me.”
Leila looked exhausted. “He was a complicated guy. He got caught up in some skeevy stuff in Florida that changed him a lot. That’s probably why he started that rumour about you Missy - he was insecure about his own past.”
“JT started that rumour? Aw Leila, ah feel jest awful for thinkin’ it was you.”
The girls were all crying together now.
“I was close with JT’s mother, you know. She was a firetruck. I think deep down he always wished he could’ve been a hero too…”
In that moment Austen realised that any of them could have been JT. He wasn’t an aberration in his egoism, just another product of his circumstances. In this town being high on your own gas made you feel like you could escape the things you might like to forget, but you can never overtake yourself. If anyone could’ve brazened it out it would’ve been JT, but the past is always on your tail. That afternoon he wheeled down to the park alone with his composition notebook.
There’s a highway mirage in your rearview mirror
And looking ahead things are not much clearer
You can try to forget, what you could’ve been
There’s only the road, and your newest dream
From a college dropout and a hometown hottie
To an LA knockout, yeah they love your body
Who could blame you if you act like a star?
Even though you work in bar
On the paper road
Your mileage may vary
And nobody knows
All the cargo you carry
It takes its toll
But you will roll
Into the sun
Another year passes, your mileage increasing
Another hangover in the condo you’re leasing
Tyres worn down, and the road’s getting harder
All the more reason to keep livin’ larger
If they could see
Who you wanted to be
Maybe you could get there for free
On the paper road
Your mileage will vary
And nobody knows
All the cargo you carry
It takes its toll
But you will roll
Until you’re done
