(first posted 10/6/2016) “Damn,” cursed Charles under his breath as he saw the flash of light from the traffic camera in his rear view mirror. This was a knee-jerk reaction, even though tickets resulting from traffic cameras had been outlawed in Chicago just the month before. It was to be his first day as a porter in the posh Michigan Avenue hotel where he had recently scored a job, and he was now doing his best to avoid being late.
Charles replayed the events of the morning in his head, as if retracing his steps would somehow allow him to change his present circumstances. His current predicament wasn’t due to anything as haphazard or careless as a too-late night out or even forgetting to set his alarm. All had been fine until approximately 7:30 AM, when his fiancée, Trina, had come back inside their house with their three-year-old son, Malik, in a panic because her ’97 Chrysler Cirrus wouldn’t start. There was no time or money for a cab, and ride sharing programs weren’t as readily available in their neighborhood.
Trina needed to drop Malik off at day care before heading to her own job at a grocery store on the other side of town, and with the Cirrus out of commission, it seemed the entire family’s schedule was thrown off kilter. Adding to the tension building in their kitchen which faced their backyard, Malik had started to cry plaintively. Charles and Trina both looked at each other as if to say, “What do we do, Baby?”, as each of them shook their heads in silent disbelief.
Charles looked at his wristwatch. Doing some quick math, he decided he had half a chance in his trusty ’79 Malibu, which had been given to him from his father who had purchased it new, of getting his son to day care, his fiancée to work, and to his own, new job on time and in that order. His shift would be over before hers, and then they could pick up Malik from Good Shepherd Day Care. He hoped to phone a mechanic buddy at some point during the day to see if his friend could come over that night and look over Trina’s uncooperative Chrysler.
Charles had managed to transplant Malik’s baby seat from the Cirrus to the Malibu with the kind of speed and dexterity that only extra adrenaline can enable. Being mindful of the lives of his lady and young son in the car with him, Charles managed to avoid his every urge toward illegal speeds through the Windy City’s streets, with the Malibu’s 170-hp 350 V8 humming its low-pitched growl dutifully as he navigated safely to day care, then to Trina’s job just west of the Loop.
By the time he dropped off Trina, he realized he had just sixteen minutes until he was to report to work, not counting the time it was going to take for him to park and walk through the front door of the hotel. He felt small beads of sweat forming on his forehead. Small bands of risk-taking pedestrians who misjudged the Malibu’s now-escalating velocity darted across West Jackson Boulevard against the traffic light, causing Charles to tighten his grip on the car’s textured vinyl steering wheel. Realizing a late first-day appearance would surely doom his chances at long-term employment at this particular hotel, he said a quick prayer as he gunned it, westbound, through a yellow light at State Street. “I just might make it,” he thought to himself. He knew he must, somehow, for the sake of his family.
Downtown, Chicago, Illinois.
Friday, April 15, 2016.
Shit, that’s too real
I see a QOTD in the works here – What happened with the rest of Charles’ morning.
Did he make it and score a huge first impression? Did he mow down one of those hapless pedestrians and find his life freshly in the shitter? Or did a bomb go off in the hotel that he avoided only because God knew where to flick on that miserable Chrysler? You’re killing us here, Joe! (But what a well-done story in spite of the unsettled ending.)
That six-window sedan even comes with the vinyl roof! It’s not that common, but I saw a Citation with vinyl roof few weeks ago too.
Was it the “short lived , notchback” version?
Well, that was quite reminiscent of my morning today. Trying to zig and zag all over town to get last minute hurricane supplies, fight crowds for the 2 or 3 unperishables left on any shelf, etc. Like Charles’ cliffhanger, everyone I’ve encountered today trailed off into “we’ll see what happens…”
Fueling up my own CC last night in anticipation of Matthew, I had a fleeting fear of the old girl not wanting to fire up when I might need her the most. I’d personally have felt a lot better if the offending inoperative vehicle in today’s fiction didn’t happen to be a Chrysler of similar vintage to my ’99 300M, but I’m going to choose not to see this as an omen 😉
Oh my gosh, MTN – please stay safe. This one ain’t no joke. Take it from an insurance guy. 🙂
Seeing this put a smile on my face, as I’m all too familiar with a ’79 Malibu with some extended family history. 🙂 Nicely written, too; we can all relate to the fear of being late for an important first day of work, and the stress that Charles is feeling for the other troubles to start his day. I don’t mind the cliffhanger ending, though as JPC noted, this could become the foundation for a series…
Also, good to see a ’79 still on the streets serving as someone’s DD. Missing the wheel opening moldings but it looks to be in quite good shape otherwise (the front seems high but maybe it’s just acceleration?). No visible rust, straight body. The vinyl roof was uncommon but not unheard of on the sedans, though I don’t think I’ve ever seen one in white. Minor quibble–the 350 wasn’t available in the sedans/coupes, only the wagon. But there could be a storyline explanation for that too–the car was purchased with the base 3.3 V6, which proved woefully underpowered, and at some point Charles’ father had had enough and swapped it for the 350 the car should have had all along.
Chris, my mistake – you’re right about the 350 / 305, and I loved your COAL series, BTW – including the one featuring your car like this one: https://www.curbsideclassic.com/cars-of-a-lifetime/coal-1979-chevrolet-malibu-a-lifetime-of-memories/.
You’re right – Charles’s pops had swapped in the 350 eventually to try to give his ’79 the same kind of pep his ’72 Malibu hardtop coupe used to have. (Thanks for the save in the storyline. 🙂 )
I saw that and automatically figured someone got tired of being underpowered, or that 3.8/267/305 just died and the 350 was swapped in.
I guess he picked it up from a same year Caprice.
Or, maybe it’s a 9C1 package bought at the Mount Prospect police auction…
*This.* This wins.
Kudos for catching this one flying through the intersection!
I feel every post of yours is not only a portrait of a car but also a portrait of the windy city. It is a characterful city combining the stresses of the rat race with urban architectural beauty all enhanced by the shadows of the high rises.
Thanks, Wolfgang. Having my camera on me pretty much all the time has made some of my more memorably location-specific shots possible. I got this series of shots while walking to work from the train one morning. I hope I never learn to take Chicago’s beautiful architecture for granted.
Great action shots and story with a noble cause!
Did you used to write for The Sopranos? ? Personally, I’m gonna fill in the blank with a happy ending. He arrives at work with a couple of minutes to spare. Six months later, he gets promoted to Head Porter and buys his wife a Camry.
If it’s a HAPPY ending, shouldn’t the new car be a Malibu? 🙂
You can get one great deal on a Dart these days…
Mike, I like your happy ending! But, I think perhaps to Chas108’s point, Charles was a Chevy man with the loyalty to that brand instilled in him by his father at a young age. 🙂
I believe that I spotted this very same Malibu during a visit to Chicago last fall. I saw the tail end of a burgundy colored Malibu sedan with a white vinyl top and dark colored custom wheels sticking out of the garage ramp of a luxury high rise on West Wacker, where the two branches of the Chicago River meet. I took a photo of it that would be proof of the sighting, but I can’t find it right now.
Charles must have been movin’ on up from his old job at a dee-luxe apartment in the sky, to an even better one at the hotel.
The 79 Malibu only had lap belts in the back seat. Would this have compromised securing a modern child seat properly?
Better than not securing it at all!
Not if it was rear-facing.
No, like my 77 Malibu Classic sedan, the lap belts are more than capable of holding a modern car seat secure, just no top anchors. Now lap belts and booster seats don’t work too well, in my book. Better to skip the booster and to let them sit on the seat with the lap belt fastened.
Well done, but if I wanted to induce anxiety I could just stick to work…
Great photos, I love your Loop work.
You get some amazing shots with your camera, Joseph. Skill, too, in panning and firing off so many shots in what I guess is a fairly short space of time. And being able to weave a story line around the photos.
Well done Sir ! .
In 1982 or so, Clifford showed up with one more white trash girlfriend from Ko. , she had one of these wretched Malibus, the rear door windows were fixed and it had NO AC of course….
-Nate
awesome Joseph! Jason has some serious competition.
Charles may be a family man but I bet he could have some Louis style adventures in mighty Chicago.
We hope this will be the beginning of a new serial!
Thanks, Bill! And I agree that Shafer is a masterful storyteller. Perhaps in the one of the future (hypothetical) installments, the paths of Louis and Charles could cross as cameos in each others’ unfolding storylines.
Actually, no 🙂 , I hadn’t planned on writing a follow up to this tale of the plight of Charles, Trina and little Malik. I decided to do this one Flannery O’Connor-style and let the reader choose their own ending.
Thanks Joseph. Always enjoy your reads. You had me glued when you mentioned replaying the events of the morning and somehow being able to change them for the better.
A friend had one.All in light blue. We used to refer to it as “The Sweatbox” because the power rear vent windows were permanantly closed, and the air conditioner never worked properly. We HATED to ride in it, especially in the hot,humid New York summers. At least the subways and busses were air conditioned, and were a good alternative to “The Sweatbox”.
This is wonderful. You’ve had me wondering if he makes it to his new job on time, all while hearing the four-barrel on that 350 kicking in, with the engine noise reverberating off all the buildings surrounding it, startling people on the sidewalk.
Don’t worry about the 305/350 thing…In the fiction world, all cars have big honking engines and four-barrels. It just wouldn’t be right otherwise.
Thanks, everyone, for reading this one, for the kind words, and for letting me indulge my imagination for a sec. 🙂
GOOD STORY!!!
At first I wasn’t so sympathetic, first day on the job you leave a little early. But as it filled out, girlfriend, son, other car wouldn’t start, it really became a good one. There’s lots of gray in the world, and it’s a complicated world, even if you are driving a ’79 Malibu.
Thanks, Mike. And you have distilled it down perfectly in your last sentence.