Diesel in Melvindale Michigan
If a car had emotions then my ’63 Lincoln Continental was overjoyed, as I drove past the Motor City because it was a homecoming. The assembly line that my car was born on was likely a pile of rusted parts in an abandoned factory. There were no puffs of smoke pouring out of the chimneys because somewhere in SE Asia a robot was making most automobiles. The sentimental journey made me thirsty so when I saw a sign pointing towards Melvindale MI, I thought it was a good place to stop. I chose Piston, a brick building with all of the usual neon signs given to the purveyor free of charge for the chance to advertise their brew. I was hoping to drink something other than just a lager but it looked like a beer joint so I would adjust. I pulled open the door that appeared to have been banged in a time or two. I’d seen more dents on a car in a junkyard.
“Hey. Just passing through and I’m hoping you have something besides beer. Don’t get me wrong I love a frosty pilsner on a hot day but I’m in the mood for something more complex.”
“I’m Hal and we have everything here at Piston. Most of the guys have whatever’s recently tapped. I make a cocktail that’s popular because it has a manly name and it’s fitting for Detroit. The gentlemen at the end of the bar are drinking diesels.”
“I’ve never met a cocktail I didn’t like so make me one of those. You can call me Cecil.”
“One diesel coming up, Cecil.” Hal had arms like Popeye and a beard but his smile was broad and welcoming. “Is that your sweet ride that I see parked out front?”
“That’s mine; she’s a ’63 Lincoln Continental but something tells me you already knew that.”
“Me and just about everyone else in Piston noticed it when you pulled up. Classics like yours don’t pull into the parking lot often. Don’t see many of those in as good a shape as you keep yours. I’ll make your drink Cecil. You’re gonna be busy answering questions about your auto to the interested party at the end of the bar.”
Hal pulled a glass out the cloudy cooler and placed it beneath the tap. He pulled hard and the amber liquid flowed. He angled the glass so it was minimally foamy. Hal moved down the bar and opened the spigot on a cask of hard cider, which he added to the glass until the mixture was within an inch of the rim. He made sure no one was watching as he poured on the finishing touch; black currant liqueur, otherwise known as crème de cassis. Hal slammed the drink in front of me. “Just don’t let the boys know I put that fruity shit on top. They’ll think it’s too girly.”
“I’ll keep your secret.” I winked as I saw a couple of men approaching. I guessed they knew more about my car than I did. “Hello, Saw you admiring my ’63 and I thought you might have questions. Are you from around here as my car is? I’m Cecil.” I offered my hand.
“She’s a beauty Cecil. You’re not old enough to be the original owner of a ’63, where’d you pick er up? I’m King.” Said the man who shook my hand, “and that’s Jude and Lenny.”
They were a rough looking trio and I guessed they were autoworkers who hadn’t made it home to shower yet. King and Lenny were straightforward as they stood before me and looked me in the eye. Jude on the other hand, was a shifty character. He stood behind, which made me nervous.
“It was my grandfather’s vehicle. He worked at Ford and it was his dream to own it. He got tired of seeing it sit in the garage so he threw me the keys. I use it for work, which takes me all over the U.S. My employer offered me a company vehicle but I took a stipend instead. Some say I shouldn’t put so many miles on her but I disagree. Car is meant for driving – right?”
“I’m with you Cecil.” King took a gulp of his diesel. “Cars are meant to be driven and not meant to be stashed away in a garage.”
I was chatting with my new friends as I heard a familiar growl. It was my Lincoln starting up and I wasn’t behind the wheel. I laid my keys on the bar when I entered Piston; they were gone and so was Jude. King and Lenny shook their heads and giggled. I didn’t join them in laughter.
“Jude strikes again. He’s pulled this ½ dozen times and nearly causes the vehicle owner a heart attack. It’s always when he has a couple of diesels and we get talking about the old days.”
“I’m calling 911. That man just took off in my ride and he’s been drinking. How can you be so damn nonchalant about this?” I screamed as I pulled my phone from my pocket.”
“Put the phone down.” Lenny insisted as he grabbed my arm. “I’ll go get Jude cuz I know where he’ll be and it’s only a mile away. Jude’s troubled, has been since his Daddy was laid off at Ford. The factory closed and Jude’s dreams of working on the assembly line were crushed. Jude means no harm and he’s never caused damage to a vehicle. He drives up the hill and looks out at the dessert that used to be home to a thriving industry. He sheds a tear before driving back.”
“Tough break for Jude but can you please go retrieve my car NOW,” I insisted.
Lenny hopped into his truck and left to get Jude and my car. I didn’t know what Jude was going through but I decided to give him a break.
“Sorry.” Hal said. “I didn’t think to warn you about Jude. I saw your keys on the bar and should have said something. Thanks for not pressing charges.”
“No worries. I imagine there are many lost souls in this town. As long as my car is fine, I’ll give Jude a pass. Thanks for the drink. I never imagined beer and raspberry liqueur would taste good together. Next time I’m in Melvindale, I’ll be sure to stop in for a diesel. I’ll remember to keep my keys in my pocket too.” I smiled and walked outside to wait anxiously for my car’s return.
