As the car began to skid, sparks flew up from the plane's propellors as they dug into the concrete.
He turned off the rushes of our movie, "Sagebrush" as I turned the lights on in the screening room.
“Gerry, remember when we talked about opening up my car on the airstrip?” He looked surprised, grabbed my hand and we were off to the garage, me trying to keep up with him. He opened the passenger door to my M8, and I climbed in. As he pulled out of the hangar, I tuned the Bluetooth to the Beatles Drive My Car as the car idled at the end of the runway. I looked down the long stretch of concrete before us.
“Don’t go too fast, Gerry. I’m just an old lady. How much runway do we have, by the way?”
“One and three-quarters miles. Ready?” He looked at me, and I nodded. He didn’t slowly take off, he just took off. As gravity pulled at me, I finally got the nerve to lean over and noticed Gerry was going past 100 mph. I tapped his arm. I guess he read my face because he began to slow down. When he reached the end of the runway, I was feeling a little sweaty. The ride was so smooth, it was hard to believe we had gone so far, so fast.
“Wow, I love this car,” he said, smiling.
“Me too, but less for the speed and more for the handling. And it’s pretty like you, Darlin’. In cerulean blue, like your eyes,” I said as Gerry pulled a U-turn and stopped, facing back toward home.
“Do you want to drive back?” he asked, and I said no. Just as he pulled forward, slower than before, there was a loud noise behind us. I looked up thru the sunroof, and was shocked to see a small plane only a few feet above us, just hanging in the air. I caught my breath and realized Gerry was looking in the side mirror. In that split second I realized that he didn’t see the plane as it came down, as I was reaching in slow-motion for his arm.
The little plane was landing right in front of us, nearly on us. We were almost at top speed again as I grabbed my husband’s arm while he looked forward. When he hit the brakes, the car began to skid. The plane skidded as well, leaving sparks as its propellers dug into the concrete. The noise was tremendous, and I thought we would never stop. The aircraft came to a stop as our tires screeched, rubber smoked and we were thrown against our seat belts. We finally came to a stop right under the tail of the Cessna that was sitting in front of us, above us. The plane was tail up, nose down; it appeared his nose landing gear had not come out.
As we sat stunned in my car, breathing hard, Gerry put it in park, turned it off, and started to take off his seatbelt. We looked up and the tail of the plane started to teeter. Apparently the pilot was moving around inside, and suddenly the tail of the plane started to fall. It was falling toward us as Gerry grabbed my head and covered it with his arm. An enormous crash hit my car and pushed it into the ground. I heard the windshield make a snapping sound but felt no glass.
When the car seemed to find its resting place, we looked up and saw the sharp tail of the plane embedded in my car’s hood and the angled fin running up through my windshield, and into the roof. The glass was cracked and broken but intact. We looked out the sunroof and were able to see the very top of the tail. I let go of the breath I was holding and looked at Gerry.
“My car,” I said weakly, as I turned and watched the smoke from my pierced radiator ascend to the heavens.
Copyright Mare Loch 2022 © All rights reserved. Original Cover art painting painting by Mare Loch.
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