STORIES
If our lives are a book, the cars we drive define the chapters.
These are stories featuring cars, trucks, and even RVs that played a role in the lives of the people who owned or drove them. Many are set in Fort Stockton, Texas and involve a cast of characters in and around the dusty southwest Texas town. A lot of the stories are shared around the table at The Grounds for Divorce, where the ‘regulars’ meet.
Pull up a chair and let Lucinda pour you a hot cuppa joe and enjoy.
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THREE CARS AND A QUESTIONABLE FUTURE
Fort Stockton, Texas – March 1961 Denton Chase stood under the dusty overhang of Frontier Ford-Lincoln-Mercury, shielding his eyes from the West Texas glare with a hand that still trembled slightly from the night before. The sign above the lot read “Home of the Straight Shootin’ Deal!” in sun-faded red block letters. The “g” in…
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THE BUZZ FROM FORT STOCKTON
FOR THOSE KEEPING TRACK AT HOME, THIS IS THE 800th STORY POSTED ON THE BLOG! HOPE YOU ENJOY IT. Before the flies ever reached the back of the rust-splintered 1956 Chevrolet 5700 LCF stake-bed truck, there was already a problem chewing its way through Texas like a chainsaw in a brisket joint. The New World…
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GOLDEN IDOLS
She arrived in Fort Stockton like an overcooked tornado—no warning, no shame, and no intention of staying in her lane. The 1977 Cadillac Seville she drove in on looked dipped in margarine and glitter. Finished in Sovereign Gold Metallic with a matching vinyl roof, it caught the sun like it was trying to blind onlookers…
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CFD AT THE GFD. IT WAS A BFD.
If anyone along I-35 between Iowa and West Texas thought they were hallucinating, they weren’t. That really was a red 1960 Porsche-Diesel Super L 318 tractor crawling down the shoulder, followed by a black Dodge Magnum with satin-red hood graphics, and a slightly faded red 1985 Camaro with T-tops and four decades of romantic and…
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EVOLUTION OF A BOY, PART 3: Backseat Thunder
By the fall of 1975, Scott Williams had outgrown the Cotton Picker, outgrown the Freewheelers, and—if you asked him—outgrown just about everything that didn’t come with an ignition key. His friends called him Scooter now, though some said it with respect and others with a smirk. The name stuck, whether he liked it or not.…
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EVOLUTION OF A BOY, Part 2: The ‘Cotton-Picker’
By 1970, Scotty Williams had dropped the “-y” from his name and insisted on being called Scott. It sounded cooler, older. Five-year-olds were Scottys. Ten-year-olds—especially those with banana seat bikes and scraped elbows—needed something with a little bite. He woke to the whir of the neighbor’s sprinkler and the rustle of the West Texas breeze…
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EVOLUTION OF A BOY, Part 1: Pony Dreams
Christmas morning in RoadRunner Estates didn’t sneak up quiet like snow in those Bing Crosby songs. It came in loud—paper tearing, cereal bowls clinking, the smell of cinnamon rolls and burnt toaster waffles drifting through the house. The aluminum tree spun slowly in the den, its color wheel flashing green and gold across the linoleum.…
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DICK AND THE DODGE
Epilogue? Too final. Let’s just call this a follow-up to the MERCURY, GOLD AND IRON series. When the 1961 Dodge Dart Phoenix D-500 Convertible rolled to a stop in front of Grounds for Divorce, it looked like the future had side-swiped the past and decided to park in the present. The black MoPar glistened with…
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MERCURY, GOLD, AND IRON, Chapter 7
This is the final installment of the series. (Well, except for the wrap-up tomorrow.) They drove southwest with no fanfare. No sirens. No newsreels. No ticker tape parades. Just four people in a scuffed yellow-and-white Plymouth wagon, windows down, air thick with miles and unasked questions. Kip sat in the backseat, elbows on knees, looking…
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MERCURY, GOLD, AND IRON, Chapter 6
They drove east. The red Dodge moved like an aging stallion—graceful, slow to anger, and impossible to predict. Kip said little. The boy said nothing. Just the two of them, heading toward something unspeakable in a car older than either one of them cared to admit. The world around them had started to shift. You…