Johnny Stewart in the back of his friend’s car in the early sixties is a vivid one because it was my first kiss. Our teeth clicked. We snuggled into the green plush seat back in that old car and sped along the back roads on the Island of Guam. Johnny was an airman on the base where my Dad worked and he was a lifeguard at the pool on base. I was an avid swimmer. I am so glad he was my first kiss. That was my first memory of men in vehicles.
Then there was a ride back from the casino to my mother’s house with a fellow in the back of another fellow’s truck. The three of us had so much fun. This particular evening we were rocking and rolling around in the back of that truck and I’m thinking I am way too old to be doing this. I didn’t want to screech to a halt in front of my mom’s house so I banged on the truck window to let me out a block away. Disheveled, I said good night. Mom never knew. She didn’t know I did it another time with those two guys in her guest room where I was staying. We were all three very quick and sly. I could see her down the street talking to a friend. I miss those crazy guys. One worked for Amtrak and the other is an Artist. It sounds like we were teens but we were all in our fifties.
I can’t forget the fellow I met at Home Depot. I met him online actually but we arranged to meet in the Depot because I thought that would be fun. It was. But all he could think about was my boobs. So I bought a few things and then he was so excited to invite me into the cab of his truck. He just had to feel them. The windows got all foggy and my blouse came off, to his surprise. He just could not believe his luck! He was a PE teacher and coached the girls’ teams. He called me several times after that peek yet we never connected again. He called me from his desk at the school. He called me while I was driving. Then he thankfully faded.
I arranged a meeting with a very nice professional piano player at the park and ended up rocking his white minivan in the parking lot. He taught music at a parochial school and played piano at a Piano Bar downtown. He was a terrible kisser. I never saw him again. But each time I passed the Piano Bar I thought of him. I told my next steady boyfriend about him and so every time we both drove by the Piano Bar with its neon sign we thought of him. We laughed. A bad kisser is a terrible thing.
Men in vehicles. Speeding by in vivid color. Remembering one more, my dad.
I remember him teaching me to drive on the abandoned air strips on the Island of Guam. He tried to teach me the stick shift. He was a prince and I hope he is out there in the ether watching out for mom and I.
Thanks Dad. I wish I could find a man to love who is like you.