MJ, Grace, and Beau are still trying to get to Topeka. We pick up the story line from the end of Topeka or Bust. Here’s Part One if you missed it.
The last of the Police cars were pulling out of the hotel parking lot just as the sun was peeking over the Mount Vernon, MO, Waffle House. They’d threatened to haul me in for stealing my own truck back — but I’d held firm, and they’d thought better. Blanca was fine. I’d need a new ignition switch. But my key still worked, so it could wait.
“Hey, y’all want to walk over and get a cup of coffee before we head on over to Topeka?”
Grace grabbed one of those free local classified papers off of a stand, just inside the entrance of the Waffle House. And no sooner than we’d sat down at our table was she pointing out a 1970 Coupe DeVille.
“Y’all look,” Grace said. But was interrupted by the server asking if we’d like coffee. “We’ll take three coffees to-go,” she replied and handed her a pink credit card. Then continued, “Y’all, I’ve got to have this car.”
I looked at Beau, and he just shrugged like — what are we going to do? Then said, “Let’s go buy a Cadillac.”
The waitress brought our coffees and Grace’s card. Grace of course tipped her twice what the bill was, and off we go again. Topeka bound, just with a slight detour through Neodesha, Kansas.
The GPS said that the little service station was only about a thirty minute detour from our original route. But State Road-75, the road that the location was on, was closed. So we had to go to Fredonia, then backtrack on SR-400 to get to the Neodesha Inn. Which wasn’t an Inn at all. It was what appeared to be an old, Full-Service, service station from the 70’s.
The old store sat at the end of SR-75, the road that had been closed. And from the looks of it, the working road we’d come in on didn’t see much traffic either.
Grace said, “Oh my goodness, she’s beautiful isn’t she, y’all?” And man she was beaming!
“It looks like it hasn’t moved since 1970, Grace,” Beau said.
“What color is it, Grace?” I joked, “I can’t tell.”
“Looks like Cher,” Beau noted.
“You two hush,” Grace said, as Blanca rolled to a stop. She damn near ran Beau over getting out of the truck. Then added, “And MJ, make yourself useful and go find the previous owner,” like she’d already procured her prize.
I did as I was told, and made my way to the side entrance of the service station. When I opened the door it brushed a bell hanging just above it that gave a little jingle.
I heard a voice from behind the counter say, “mornin.”
I greeted the feet kicked up on the counter and asked about the Cadillac.
The feet disappeared, and the old-timer said, “Looks like they’re gonna burn down Atlanta before it’s over with,” as he nodded towards the first ever color TV.
I looked over and saw huge rabbitears first, then saw the chaos that was Atlanta on the television screen. And when the cameraman panned the scene I saw that he was actually filming at the Tanger Outlets, where we’d left Grace’s Fiat.
I ran back outside and hollered for them to come see, but neither of them heard me. Grace was sitting in the driver’s seat, and Beau was under the hood.
“Beau,” I hollered, as I ran over. “Grace, y’all have got to see this!”
Beau said, “I’m pretty sure it’s just a dead battery, engine has a little dust on her, but looks to be in surprisingly good condition.”
Grace wouldn’t even let me say anything, she just hollered, “Are you ready Beau?”
“Guys listen!” I said, waving my hands at them like we were a hundred feet apart, and not standing three paces from one another. “Atlanta is burning to the ground, it’s on the TV inside. Come on!”
I fled back inside the service station, Grace and Beau right behind me. And just when I started to say, “Look,” the screen scrolled past Grace’s Fiat on fire.
“Oh no,” she gasped at the sight of her pretty pink convertible in flames.
She turned to the old-timer and wiped a tear before she said, “How much for the Coupe DeVille?”
~
After he and Grace shook hands, and he’d shown her how to crank it, we were off again. As it turns out, there wasn’t anything at all wrong with the battery or car, the old-timer just had a kill switch underneath the dash to keep anyone from running off with her. Btw- Blanca may or may not now boast one of these technological feats.
We get back out onto the highway and I call Hank to let him know that we’ll be needing an extra parking spot. He says, “No worries dawg, we’ve got loads of room,” which scares me a little. I mean, there’s usually not “loads of room” at any kind of festival, but okay.
I’m surprised again as we enter Topeka an hour or so later. Because the GPS is taking us not to a truckstop or campground, but right into the center of the city. As we get closer to the address the crowd grows tighter around the vehicles, and eventually we come to a barricade. Not able to continue, I call Hank, but he doesn’t answer. So I put Blanca in park and start to get out, and then I see him.
Hank is waving us down from the passenger seat of the Topeka Fire Chief’s Red F-150, and Jean-Paul had the lights flashing and siren on full blast! They make a big dramatic turn around the Munn Pioneer Memorial, before two firefighters hopped out and moved the barricaded aside for us to fall into the parade.
True to his word Hank had taken care of our room and board for the duration of the festivals. When we pulled up to the Firestation, there was a million-dollar Coachman sitting in the back lot.
Cotton was all smiles when we shook hands. He introduced us to his new friends, who promptly invited us to partake in a pool tournament at the Topeka Billiards Club, which resided across the street.
“Nice car, Grace,” he said as he picked her up and twirled her around once before setting her back down.
Grace gave him a peck on the cheek and said, “Her name is Cadi-Mae.”
