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Previous Challenge Entry (Level 4 – Masters)
Topic: NEWS (07/05/18)
The emerald flash of endless rolling hills split by fresh tarmac drew me like a hatchling turtle to the sea. The ‘Beach Boys’ tunes threatened to shake apart the interior of my 88 Olds with the promise of “picking up good vibrations” and “excitations.” The break from endless days of university and church felt like liberation.

Five of us set out in June with the latest edition of that lightweight overhead-valve high-compression V8 engine purring like a tom-cat hungry for dinner. Our muscle car was ready for anything the road could send our way. We nicknamed the Eighty-Eight “the News” since it was the latest in the nine generations of “Olds” cars running back to 1949.

Under that summer sun I clocked ten thousand miles while the world paid tribute to Nelson Mandela’s 70th birthday; the US Senate heard a NASA scientist warn that global warming had begun; 290 people were obliterated on a Persian airliner as it was accidentally shot down by a US missile; AIDS infected needles started washing up on Long Island beaches; the leader of the Pakistani Shia Muslims was assassinated; Al-Qaeda was formed by Osama bin Laden; and the last of a million people were killed as the Iran-Iraq war ended with a truce.

My grandfather owned a First generation, pea green, spit-polished 1950 Oldsmobile 88. He drove me down route 66 one summer and I was hooked on glaring out a windscreen. That cruiser was over 200 inches long and had a Rocket V8 engine. It was the first “King of NASCAR.” The news from his radio focused on the introduction of credit cards, Peanuts cartoon strips, the start of the Korean War, and President Truman ordered that a hydrogen bomb is built. Nothing outside that haven of power mattered to my grandfather and me.

Grandfather had the only one we called “the Olds” but it wasn’t the last time I spent in those classics. My uncle Ben had a ‘sweet’ red and white convertible Second generation Super 88 which was 3 inches longer than my grandfather’s. He was the first to let me take control of the wheel. My dentist had a white-topped, blue-bodied, Third generation Super 88 ChromeMobile powered by a four-barrel 371 cubic-inch Rocket V8 engine which distracted me from girls and sports for the early years of high school. I knew the drugs my friends experimented with had no kind of kick compared with the adrenaline rush I was getting.

The Cherry Red flash of a 1986 Oldsmobile Delta 88 Royale Brougham coupe driving into the student parking lot on the first day of college ended my days as a single man. The pony-tailed brunette behind the wheel had my full attention. The news I cared about was that she answered to the name Natalie and didn’t mind if I stared at her wheels.

My pastor preached the news about the end times because Spain and Portugal had joined the European Economic Community. President Reagan ordered attacks on terrorist camps in Libya; President Ferdinand Marcos fled the Philippines; the nuclear accident at Chernobyl had the world shaking in fear; the space shuttle Challenger exploded on the launching pad. None of that seemed to penetrate the protective shell of the latest “News” I started enjoying with Natalie.

Natalie’s parents must have been crazy to permit her to spend that summer cruisin’ with me, Ted, Vinnie and Shania. Maybe Ted being a youth pastor, and promising to do devotions and chaperoning, had something to do with it but I think they were dedicated “Olds” fans and my shiny chariot had the look of confidence and stability. The voice diagnostic system promised to alert me to problems if the coolant was low, the engine was overheating or the headlights were still left on.

Somewhere, as the miles passed and the headlines changed, I started noticing the Creator of the creation that I’d been gawking at through the windscreen of my “News.” The Good News started sinking deeper as we sat around fires and tried to consider how what God said applied to our modern-day life.

My Olds now blasted songs by Steven Curtis Chapman, Sandi Patti, Larnelle Harris, Russ Taff, Michael W. Smith and Rich Mullins. When Natalie started calling ‘shotgun’ every time I drove none of the others even questioned the reality that developed. The first time we prayed as a couple, standing in a Phoenix parking lot, I knew my new news was more than just good vibrations.
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This article has been read 595 times
Member Comments
Member
Date
Terry R A Eissfeldt 
07/12/18
Masterfull.
Shann Hall-LochmannVanBennekom 
07/14/18
This reminds me of Billy Joel's "We Didn't Start the Fire." I like the way you drove through the decades. While I didn't recognize any of the car jargon, I did remember many of the headlines. I thought it a creative take on the topic.
Jenny Fulton 
07/14/18
Good job with the originality of this piece and with tracing the mc's journey through the years.
LaVonne Wood
07/17/18
So glad you chose the Olds 88 as your dream car and not one of the many popular ones, like the '57 Chevy. My husband and I worked on cars together. Nothing like a car enthusiastic woman to share your life with. Enjoyed your story. Blessings!