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THE SECOND IN A SERIES OF SEVEN STORIES.

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The old guys that sat around the table all day drinking coffee at the U-Drop Inn used to say, “If ignorance is bliss why aren’t people happier in this town?”  That struck most of the other folks as ironic, as every one of the old guys around the table had been born and raised in Shamrock, just like they had.

The U-Drop Inn was probably the most famous thing to come out of Shamrock, Texas.  A close second might be Gene Price, a longtime songwriting companion of Buck Owens.  But Buck is a bit of an acquired taste; an obscure songwriting friend of his doesn’t merit a whole lot of attention.  Shamrock is situated in the far right side of the panhandle along what used to be the old Route 66.  That’s the connection that laid the groundwork for construction of the U-Drop Inn and led to its success.  That is, until the Dwight D. Eisenhower National System of Interstate and Defense Highways was approved on June 29, 1956 and the resulting construction of I-40 left Route 66, Shamrock, Texas, and the U-Drop Inn all shadows of they had previously been.

The population of the town tumbled, despite the efforts of Vic and Vera Channing.  Vera dropped a new Channing each year through the first five times the earth rotated the sun in the decade of the fifties.  The middle child was a boy, Corey, born in 1953.  Corey was the only boy, sandwiched in between two older sisters and two younger sisters and the only child his father wasn’t disappointed in due to his gender.  Vic had hoped to have a whole brood of male Channing’s to help him with the farm.  Corey would eventually earn his father’s disappointment as well when he made it convincingly clear that he didn’t feel particularly lucky in Shamrock and would be leaving it as soon as he was able.

The boy played high school football for the Fighting Irish at Shamrock High School, but only because not doing so would have made everyone think he was light in his loafers and that would have made living there even more traumatic than the desolation and the weather.  His real love was books.

In fact, if Corey could have done nothing other than read and work on his 1961 Dodge he probably would have stayed in Shamrock.  But then, there was the whole farming thing.  He purchased the 1961 Dodge Dart Pioneer D-500 2-Door Hardtop 3-Speed when it was nothing but an odd old used car that nobody wanted.  The fact that it was a D-500 meant nothing to anyone who looked at it on the used car lot in Lela where he found it.  

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“Looks like the damn thing was designed by a drunk committee of college sissy-boys who were two tacos short of a combo plate, if you ask me,” the salesman said.  “But it runs good.  Like a bat outta hell, matter a fact.  And she’s clean.  Real clean.  But it’s ugly as a bucket full of smashed assholes and has been sittin’ on the lot a while.  I’ll let you have it for 300 cash money.”

The Dart Pioneer D-500 two-door hardtop was powered by a 361ci V8 paired with a three-speed manual transmission and was finished in black over a monochromatic cloth and vinyl interior. Equipment included a Carter AFB carburetor, a Mopar electronic ignition, a dual exhaust system, hubcaps, drum brakes, and air shocks.  Corey thought it was the best looking thing he’d ever seen.  The patterned black/gray cloth seat covers with silver and white vinyl inserts looked to be brand new.  When he wound it out on FM 2762 east of Lela and saw just what the 361ci Dart D500 V8 could do, he peeled off fifteen worn twenty dollar bills and headed back to Shamrock.  He almost forgot the paperwork he was in such a hurry.

In a town where most every human sporting a scrotum drove a pick-up truck, Corey stuck out even more than a kid who loved to read.  When he didn’t have his nose in a book, he had his whole head under the hood of the Dodge.  The fact that others made fun of it made him appreciate the unique styling of the car even more.  The first thing he did was get the parts to replace the column ‘three-on-the-tree” shifter with a Hurst Campbell DP61 floor shifter, creating a driving experience more akin to Lonnie Yarborough instead of his grandmother.

At Shamrock High Corey’s English teacher, Mr. Terry, noted Corey’s gift in the language arts.  “You know what makes the best writers?” he asked Corey after school one day when he’d come in for help on an essay.

“No sir,” he replied.

“The ones who read a lot.  You’ve got some talent here, Son.  And by ‘some’, I mean a lot.”  Mr. Terry was the encouraging sort.  “I know of some scholarships you should apply for.  I can help you with the essays, but just to fine-tune what you are already capable of.”

That created a spark that sent Corey and the Dodge Dart Pioneer D-500 2-Door Hardtop to the library for additional resources.  He bought an old Royal portable typewriter second hand at a garage sale.  By spring break the following March the boy had applied to colleges all over the state of Texas, a few in Oklahoma, and even a couple as far away as Kansas, anywhere Mr. Terry had word of available scholarship opportunities.  By finals he was hellbent on a degree in journalism.  Soon after, an offer for a partial scholarship from the University of Nebraska-Lincoln was laying on top of the old oak desk in his room.

“I can see about getting you some work-study opportunities, and help you fill out some college loan forms.  First year might be tough, but after that, once they see that you’re going to make it and are serious, more things will become available,” Mr. Terry told him.

A week after graduation enough pieces of the puzzle had been put together that it was official; Cory was headed for the Cornhusker State to get a degree.  The first in his family who’d left Shamrock or gone to college.  Vera was distraught to see her only boy leave the nest and fly so far from home.  Vic was just pissed.  He felt like the boy, his only boy, had betrayed the family.  Vic didn’t see that the boy had gifts and talents that had nothing to do with working the land.  

“I don’t understand why he wants to leave everything he’s ever known.”  That’s what he told Vera as the two of the lay in bed, the thin linen curtains barley moving in the hot June breeze.  But Vera suspected that her husband did understand.  While she knew he would never admit it, maybe didn’t even know it himself, she suspected Vic was jealous of the opportunity their son had that Vic never had himself.

Corey told Mr. Terry about the situation at home, described the tense silence and the unspoken resentments as they met for coffee early one morning at the U-Drop Inn.  “It’s only going to get worse.  Summer is going to be long and hot and the fuse has already been lit.”  Corey nodded as his former teacher spoke.  “You ought to go ahead and test the waters before things blow up.”

“How do you mean?” Corey asked.

“Take some classes in Amarillo.  It’ll get you out of the house, but still be close enough to see your folks occasionally.  Get some credits that will count at Nebraska.  Maybe get a part time job when you’re not in class.  Earn some money to have in your pocket when you head north.”  Terry glanced out the window towards the black Dodge Dart parked just outside the window.  “You going to need a job just to keep gas in that big ugly beast!”

Corey was silent as he mulled over the idea.  After a few minutes he said,”I’ve got an aunt and uncle in Canyon.  Less than 20 miles from Amarillo.  My mother’s sister and her husband.  They’ve got a spare room since my cousin got married.  Bet I could stay there and it wouldn’t cost a thing other than some chores.  My uncle works at a hardware store.  Maybe he could get me on.”

Mr. Terry just smiled.  The idea had taken root.  It sounds like things had the potential to fall into place, if it was meant to be.  Like Corey’s father, Mr. Terry was a little jealous of what lay ahead for the young man about to turn 19.  His whole life was ahead of him.  His journey was just beginning.  The road was long ahead, but wide open and every choice was his to make.  All the natural feelings someone about 40 years old has when they  look at someone not yet 20.

Two weeks later the black 1961 Dodge Dart Pioneer D-500 2-Door Hardtop 3-Speed was headed due west out of Shamrock towards Canyon, the sun reflecting off the chrome trim outlining the odd reverse canted clipped fins on the back of the car, nearly blinding the drivers behind it.  In front of Corey was the 120-mph horizontal-sweep speedometer consisting of a translucent panel with a “see-through” housing that allowed natural lighting to illuminate the dial during the day.  

And so much more.

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