The Wonderment of You: Quadrifoglio

April brought a sweeping change to his heart. Though it was still of period of uncertainty, somehow it represented calm. It happened innocently with a passing remark he made about the CD she was examining. It was a John Coltrane collection he had happened to own and mentioned it was worth considering, especially as it featured a few Count Basie numbers. It was just a passing comment, nothing more.

They met later in the day by coincidence. He was in a store trying on sunglasses and heard her comment that the one he had just tried on wasn’t a good choice. She suggested a trying the one with the square lens, commenting that it better complemented his round facial features. She pointed a black frame version and indicated he should try those on.

Perfect.

He thanked her for the advice and she merely smiled and replied that she was just returning the favor. And by the way, she had sampled the CD in her car and thus far she was delighted.

He hated being asked what he did for a living. While on the surface, it was an easy enough occupation, however because of his specialization it took several minutes of explanation and usually most individuals just gave a glossed over look. In the end he generally changed the conversation and asked what they did. It was so much easier listening. This prevailing attitude somewhat ruled his life. He just wasn’t interested in much anymore. Besides, most individuals were so preoccupied with themselves; they would just go on for hours on end. He merely had to indicate interest and only half listen. He would be miles away the other half of his time, day dreaming how he wished he were elsewhere.

Another point of contention was the car he drove. A red 1967 Alfa Romeo GTV. Most viewed the car as some passing mid-life crises fancy. Especially the woman he dated. Even the testosterone filled gender who fancied themselves as a car enthusiast would make a passing favorable comment on his car and quickly start to talk about their preference—to which he only paid polite attention, but had no interest in hearing. In truth the car represented his childhood. He remembered clearly when he first saw the car. He was sitting in a window seat of this school bus when he spotted the car. Something about the color, the Guigiaro bodyline and the aggressive stance stirred something in him. He saw the walnut stick shift knob and steering wheel and instantly placed himself in the drivers’ seat. From that day on, the Quadrifoglio Verde, or the lucky four-leaf clover settled into a permanent place in his heart.

So given his emotions about the Alfa, he would respond poorly to those who questioned his vehicular choice. Granted it wasn’t the best choice as a reliable mode of transport, but he relied on his lease car for the everyday commute. It seemed the biggest source of conflict was when those around him questioned how he could sit in the car for hours.

“What do you think about,” they would ask.

In all honesty, he couldn’t answer, as he himself had no idea what he thought about during those hours. It was just a span of time when he would drift off to whatever thought entered his mind. Besides, his favorite sport was daydreaming.

When the car was running, he would take off to the Four Corners area of New Mexico and Arizona in search of the country Tony Hillerman wrote so passionately in his novels. His friends would question why he would his somewhat unreliable car to such a desolate place, only to circle back and return upon arrival. The mused about his temperamental heater, lack of air conditioning and the A.M. radio. He was accused on occasion by whomever he was dating at the time if his sojourns weren’t actually a romantic rendezvous—perhaps with a Navajo sweetheart he had met on the tribal grounds.

“Did you meet her on the Internet,” they would ask.

In truth the road trips were just road trips. It really served no purpose except it was just a way to get away. Sometimes he would get as far as Barstow and he would stop to eat, have a beer and return home. Perhaps it was just the notice of the road trip that appealed to him more so than the trip itself.

They walked out of the store together into the parking lot. They happened to approach his car first and he mentioned that this was where he was parked. The woman asked if the Alfa was his, and he acknowledged.

You must love the car she remarked. "My older brother had a GTV when he was in college. It always ran awful and he didn’t have the money to keep up on repairs, but he was completely married to it. Funny, he drives a SUV now, but he still talks about the car. It was his first love, I think."

“By the way, my name is April,” she said as she put out her hand.