Rambler

Every year my dad took me and my mother on our traditional summer vacation. This year would be different. We would be going in our new Rambler American to Ocean City, New Jersey. 

It was a rather innovative car in its day – the new kid on the block battling the “big 3” automakers.  Dad took pride in buying the Car of the Future. Being an only child, my world on these trips was the back seat. The new Rambler’s back seat would be my domain for the next 8 hours.

If it was not for the newness of the car, let alone this oddball vehicle, the trip would have been more of a drag. There was something in me that made me feel weird traveling with my parents to begin with. It just did not feel comfortable. Kids my age did not want to be with their parents. All of my childhood friends were Catholic, which meant that they had brothers and sisters, and here I was with no siblings about to embark on another vacation without youthful companionship. 

The day Dad brought the Rambler home from the dealership, he proudly showed it off to the neighbors. He showed its unique features. One feature was a curtain-like a partition that could be drawn closed, separating the front from the rear.  This was to afford a measure of privacy for rear passengers. I found this to be a bonus. I could have my own space and reduce my interactions with my folks. 

After spending the day showing off the car it was time to start packing. We left for our destination on a Friday night at 9:00 p.m. We were off to the Pennsylvania turnpike toll booths located in what is now Cranberry Township. 

Just going out to those remote ocean blue toll booths to access the turnpike was an  adventure. Dad took the ticket from the booth attendant and we were off on one of its first of its kind highways. Back then, to go anywhere east of Pittsburgh required taking the Pennsylvania Turnpike.  

From here on in, the two people in the front seats were worlds apart from what I had hoped for as traveling companions. Yes, they were good parents with good intentions but why couldn’t I have some of the other kids’ parents or better yet, why did I not have an older brother?  I asked this once we got going.  My mother looked at my dad, who looked back.  Neither said a word. I didn’t know what they thought, but that’s how it was with my parents. When deep questions were asked, not much was ever explained. There would be no siblings. I was meant to be alone.

It was left up to me to conjure up my own amusements. Instead of looking ahead to the beach, I thought about things I wanted to do when I got home. There was a new girl who had moved to our neighborhood. I fantasized about her being with me. I wondered what my friends were doing at the city pool where I spent my entire summer outside of this vacation.  

My parents carried on conversing about nothing that interested me. I put the feature in use that turned out to be of great benefit to me. The partition. I used it to shut out my parents. Just not having to look at them was a relief.

Just as I was to settle into my daydreaming, I heard my mother tell my dad to stop at the Howard Johnson’s, where, I assumed, she would order fried clams and treat me to one of the many flavored ice creams they were famous for. Back then, Howard Johnson’s could only be found on the Pennsylvania Turnpike. This was a rare treat. I always marveled at the pictures of food and desserts that looked so appetizing. The burgers and fries looked perfect. But mom was frugal and had packed sandwiches for this trip. Liverwurst was hardly my favorite, but I abided by her standards for pinching pennies.

We returned to our car after using the restroom. I crawled into the back seat and kept the curtain closed. I stretched out in the back and fell asleep, lying on my back, staring at the lights from the oncoming traffic. 

I was awakened by the car’s interior light when my door opened. We had arrived at our destination. I was half awake when my father woke me up and led me to our motel room. To this day, I remember the motel’s name: The Moby Dick.

I woke up the next day to the sound of the surf, seagulls, children’s excited voices as my mother pulled back the curtains and let the sunshine flood the room. So here I was, an only child with his parents at the beach, a skinny, awkward boy on the cusp of puberty thinking about his buddies back home and the new girl on the block. After going in the ocean with my Dad, (Mom was afraid of water and if it got above her knees, she claimed she could not breathe.) I went back to our umbrella where I was further humiliated with my mother rubbing sunscreen on me. I was about to get into reading my Boys Life magazine when I was about to witness a miracle.

Walking towards me, looking for a spot with her parents was a strawberry blond with freckles. A Tom Boy. She stopped, changed directions and I said ‘shit’ under my breath. She gestured to her parents, pointing towards a spot next to ours. I looked away and pretended to be reading my magazine as they set up camp. As she knelt to spread out her beach towel, she caught me looking at her. We made eye contact and she smiled. I was too shy to hold the glance and I averted my eyes. I felt myself blushing. I was immediately smitten. Maybe this beach trip was going to be a good one after all.

I kept stealing glances and she must have sensed my shyness and gave me a look of amusement with a confident smile. I think she found my discomfort cute as she continued to toy with me. We kept playing cat and mouse. My parents were reclined on their beach chairs reading, while I wondered what I could do to strike up a conversation. As I continued pretending to be reading my boy scout magazine, I heard her mother ask her, “Emma, would you like some lunch?” 

“No thank you, Mother.”

She was face down on her beach towel and continued to shoot me glances. 

‘Emma.’  Nice name. Hearing her mother say her name I felt I was getting closer to her already. Her father was a buff dude and I thought I better mind my moves or he would kick my gangly ass.  Her parents were a handsome couple and Emma came by her looks honestly. 

Suddenly my mother blurted out that I should use some sun screen. I shrank. God. Really, mom? I felt very put off. Without answering her and to assuage my embarrassment, I quickly got up from my beach towel and made for the surf. As I stood in ankle deep water staring at the horizon, lost in my thoughts, I felt someone approaching me, declaring, “ They can be annoying.” 

Don’t ball this up, Jacob. Think before you blurt out something stupid, I thought to myself.

When I was about to answer her, Emma’s Dad came on the scene and took charge. He asked, “Who is your friend?”

“We just met,” said Emma. 

“My name is Jake sir.  Pleasure to meet you.”  I extended my hand, mustering up my best grip. Her dad personified the captain of one varsity team or another in his day. I wondered if his daughter was like him. She sure looked athletic enough.

 

I did my best to make good eye to eye contact, but I couldn’t help staring at Emma’s shapely feet with their brightly painted toenails that matched her fingernails. I kept thinking of my hard ass English teacher offering her bits of wisdom.

“One does not get a second chance to make a good first impression.” 

“So Jake, are you having a good time? This is our first day here and so far it’s good to be here. Emma has been looking forward to this week for a while.”  Emma’s father paused.  Then, he said, “I will leave you two alone” and headed for the surf. 

“Good to meet you, sir,” I called out, sucking up to him.

I felt relieved to have the opportunity to be alone with her but her dad served as a buffer. Now it was up to me not to make a fool of myself. Think before you speak, I thought.

“How long are you here for, Jake?”  Emma started us off.

“For the week, and you?”

“The same. Where are you from?”

 “Pittsburgh, and you?”

“Norfolk. My day is stationed there for now. We move around a lot.”

 “Wow, what does he do?”

“He is a Navy fighter pilot.”

I thought to myself, This is the all American family. 

“And what does your dad do?”

“My dad is an accountant.  Nothing as exciting as your dad.” 

Jesus! Here I am shooting myself in the foot being self-deprecating! 

Just as the conversation was becoming liquid, it was interrupted by a boy approaching us from Emma’s camp and announcing that Emma’s mother wanted her to put on the sunscreen he was holding.

“Hi, my name is…”

Just when he was about to announce his name, Emma abruptly took the bottle of sunscreen, handed it to me and asked, “Do you mind putting this on me?”

It was obvious that Emma chose the moment to bust the new guy’s balls. 

“His name is…”

And just when she was about to tell me his name, he interrupted Emma to extend his hand to me and announce, “Orson’s the name.”

Emma retorted dryly, “A friend of the family.”

My cup runneth over! This guy was not on her radar.

What I’d thought would be another boring time turned into a bounty. Here I was nervously and dizzyingly with a bottle of sunscreen in his hand about to touch one of the prettiest girls I had ever seen. On the very first day I was smitten. What a story this would be to tell the boys back home! Jesus, how would I do this?  I had never really had my hands on any part of a girl.

Orson’s smile turned to a frown as Emma pulled her ponytail off her back and instructed me where to apply the lotion. I felt the tension coming off Orson and I did not feel comfortable with him shooting daggers.  How could I get rid of the dullard?  Oh, how that would feel!  To be alone with Emma.

Finally, Orson left. He was such a bore. 

“Our families have been friends for years. Orson’s father serves with my dad. That’s the connection.  He thinks we are an item.”

I was glad to hear her make the distinction.

Emma’s dad came back to announce that lunch was ready. 

“Would you like to join us Jake?”

“Come on Jake.  Come up to our condo,” said Emma. 

“I see you made a new acquaintance,” my mom said.

“Lucky you,” my dad put in. 

“They asked me to go to their place for lunch.”

 “Have all the fun,” said my dad.

When I entered the condo, there at the round table in the screened in porch sat Orson and his folks. Right away I felt exposed and uncomfortable. I didn’t know where to sit. Emma came to my rescue.  She wanted me to sit next to her. But I still felt uncomfortable just sitting there with only my swimming trunks. Erma’s mom was kind enough to sense my awkwardness and kept the conversation going. Orson did his best to be a wise ass. His parents were more interested in the food and drink.

Emma’s Dad, whom everyone called  “The colonel,” introduced everyone and took command of the whole scene. Midway through lunch, after the small talk, Emma nudged me under the table and announced that we would be taking a walk. That was fine with me. I was rather tired of adult conversation and sensed that we would not be missed

I said ‘thank you’ for the lunch and hospitality, shook hands and looked forward to spending time without any interference. I was walking on air, thinking that this whole vacation turned out to be a bonus….. until Orson came running up to join us. Christ, I muttered to myself.   Emma sighed.

I did not know at the time that Emma was scheming when she asked Orson to go back to the rental to retrieve her sunscreen. 

“Let’s go!” she said when Orson had gone.

“Where?”  I asked.

“I will show you.”

No sooner than Orson was out of sight. Emma started running! The next thing I knew we were under the boardwalk.

After we caught our breath, she said, “He will never find us here.”

After a few laughs, she pulled out a pack of cigarettes that were stashed above our heads on a supporting plank of the boardwalk. 

“Where did you get those?” I asked.

“From my dad. Would you like one?”

“No thanks.”

“Did you ever smoke one?”

“No.” 

“Want to try?”

“No thanks. “

“Come on,” she held out her cigarette. “Here.  Just one drag.”

***

Emma sat at the officers’ club bar wearing her flight suit, her bright red hair in a ponytail, deeply inhaling her cigarette and exhaling forcefully. Her legs were crossed

 as she vigorously bounced her foot.  She gazed at her reflection in the mirror at the back of the bar that held so many desirable spirits.

Occasionally she would flick the ash off her smoke and steal a glance over her shoulder.