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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‘X’ MARKS THE SPOT, PART II: Tequila and Trouble
The first thing they did wrong was stop. It was past midnight when they pulled into a town with no name on the map, just a flickering sign that read VACANCY next to a peeling stucco box calling itself the Desert Star Motel. The Cadillac rumbled into the lot like it was embarrassed to be…
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‘X’ MARKS THE SPOT, PART I: “Don’t You Dare, Lacie-Mae”
It was 1978 in Fort Stockton, Texas, and the only thing hotter than the August sun was Buck Buchanan’s blood pressure. He stood at the edge of his porch, chewing a piece of straw like it owed him money, staring across the spread he’d built from cattle, sweat, and more luck than good sense. The…
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MAHOGANY FRAMED, Part III
Roy Temple didn’t remember falling asleep, but when he opened his eyes, the Polaroid was still on the nightstand, lipstick still laughing at him in cursive. “We see you too.” He smoked his cigarette down to the filter, then stood, shirt wrinkled, belt still halfway undone. His shoes were by the door—he didn’t remember taking…
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MAHOGANY FRAMED, Part II
Roy Temple didn’t care for mornings, especially the kind that smelled like regret in advance. But there it was—slid under the door of Room 4 at the Cattle Baron Hotel: a folded linen napkin with a note scribbled in lipstick red. “Grounds for Divorce. Noon. Come alone. — V.” He poured what was left of…
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MAHOGANY FRAMED, Part I
The 1949 Chrysler Town & Country Convertible rolled into Fort Stockton just past dawn, gliding low and lazy down Main like it belonged here—because it didn’t. The black paint was polished mirror-slick, gleaming even under a sky so dry it looked sunburned. Whitewalls wide as a Sunday hat hugged the road with gentlemanly grace, and…
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THE LONG WAY TO SWEETWATER
By the time the sun tucked itself behind the Davis Mountains like a child into bed, Lila was already outside the Airfloat with her coffee, watching the last light play hopscotch with the sagebrush. The aluminum skin of the trailer caught the amber glow and threw it back in all directions, like it had never…
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ALL TANKED UP
It all started with a whisper—a half-mumbled comment overheard by Mayor Goodman during a state-level budget meeting that no one thought he was paying attention to. Something about a decommissioned light tank, tucked away in government storage, just gathering dust. To most people, that might be a curiosity. To Mayor Goodman, it was destiny. The…
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THE GOSPEL ACCORDING TO MERCURY
Brother Bob of Second Baptist Church, Fort Stockton, Texas, had always believed the Good Lord worked in mysterious ways. But he didn’t expect Him to come roaring back into his life in the form of a chopped, low-slung, barely legal 1951 Mercury Eight Coupe that looked like it belonged at a moonshine derby more than…
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LUCINDA AND THE LAST WORD
“A Lake Leon Showdown With Class, Sass, and Fiberglass.” They said the Italians knew how to make three things better than anyone else: shoes, espresso, and wooden boats. And this one—sweet mother of varnish—was proof. A 1960 Riva 20′ Super Florida, all gleaming mahogany, turquoise vinyl, and chrome brightwork polished to a Texas mirror shine.…
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THREE NIGHTS AT THE END OF THE ROAD, Part 3: Last Rites
[Note to the Reader]This is the final chapter connecting The Blonde in Room #3 and A Stranger This Way Comes. If you haven’t read Chapters One and Two of Three Nights at the End of the Road, go do that first. The truth is in the ledgers, but the resolution’s in the ride. The dust…