Joe's Garage - 1 mile

'Are you embarrassed by your size?' The email asked. 'Do you want to stay hard longer?' said the next one. "No," I shouted at the computer screen and shut it down. My size was fine. I was five eight, wore a perfect twelve and felt comfortable with that. I could probably learn to be a little harder, but I had the feeling it wasn't emotional strength the message offered. Just as I doubted the first one was about my figure. Isn't there anything I can do about this garbage?

I left the small office in my home and sat next to my cat, Ginger, in the living room. "I think your mom is having a melt down. Give me some of that cat wisdom your kind is so famous for." Her guttural purr helped until I turned on the television.

A gunman went berserk at a shopping mall and shot twelve people. Four more soldiers died in a mission we accomplished several years ago. A bomb exploded at a funeral in Iraq. He lied. She lied. The ones that told the truth admitted to stealing from programs for the poor and elderly, and the trailers they gave to people to live in after the disaster were making occupants sick. I turned off the television with a groan. "Where are we going? Everyday the news is worse and no one seems to have any answers. We're destroying ourselves, each other, and the environment, and I don't think anything can be done." Ginger nodded knowingly but offered no suggestions.

I work from my home—Nan Sutter's Travel Agency. It's small, but I work long hours and manage a comfortable life. Last year I bought a used 2005 Mercedes SL-550, blue with a dark blue convertible top. It is way too much car for a person who rarely travels, but I'd wanted a sporty convertible and got a great deal on it from one of my clients. "You know, Ginger. Maybe I just need to get away for a couple of days. No cell phone, no computer, I'll just get on the road and drive until I find a place to stay for the night. I can look for answers to some of these questions I keep asking." I looked at my unperturbed feline and smiled. "I'll ask our neighbor, Sandy, to make sure you have food and water, and adequate attention, but know one else knows, okay. I'm sneaking off for a little adventure."

Six hours later my little adventure found me on the side of a desolate county road in my now silent blue Mercedes. I'd left Albuquerque and taken I-25 south. Somewhere on the other side of Truth or Consequences, I decided to be even more adventuresome and get off the interstate. The massive eighteen-wheelers hurdling by, ready to suck me under their wheels where not calming.

When the car died, I managed to pull to the side of the road. Only as I reached for my purse did I remember I chose not to take my cell. Stupid. I could have turned it off. The wind had picked up and the sun started to disappear behind the mountains. I looked around and saw a worn barely legible sign. 'Joe's Garage-1 mile.' "I guess I'll go see if Joe and his garage are still around."

Blowing sand stung any exposed flesh as I trudged forward. I remembered reading about the people who traveled west during the dust bowl. After they ate, they lined their dishes and pots up so the sand could blast them clean. I wondered what it would do to flesh.

I saw the answer to my question when I examined the weathered face of the man that greeted me at the garage. He wiped his hands on the front of his grimy jeans and then swiped them through his thick mop. I figured that was why his thick gray hair looked lacquered to his head.
"Are you Joe?" He raised his right hand, which held some kind of a wrench, to tell me he was. "My car broke down about a mile from here. Can you help me?"

"Help you what?"

That seemed like a strange question from an auto mechanic but I supposed it was logical. "Get it running," I said.

"That depends on what's wrong. What kind of car is it?"

"It's a 2005 Mercedes SL-550."

"Well, I won't have any parts here if it needs them. Do you need a tow?"

I was about to suggest I could push it in but he spoke again. "Are you east or west?" I had to point, because I didn't know. "Tell me what it did before it died."

After I explained the way the car behaved, Joe nodded. "Okay, let me finish up in here and I'll get on it." He gave me that full body eyeball that men, no matter what age, seem to do without thinking. Some other time I would have been offended, right then I was too tired to care.

I found a long bench in front of the garage and took a seat, finally out of the wind. There was no need to look at my hair. I could feel the short brown strands pointing in all different directions. Joe didn't seem to notice, but then Joe didn't seem like the brightest bulb and I wondered if he could fix the car. What would I do if he couldn't? "What if you can't fix it? What if nothing can be done?" I shouted as he walked to the door and was sure that even he heard the panic in my voice.

"You can always do something. Maybe it'll fix things, maybe it won't, but you gotta try. If we didn't believe that, we might as well all just drop dead." He tipped his wrench in salute and went in.

Maybe he was a little brighter than I thought.

Ten minutes later, a different man came out. I hadn't seen any other vehicles, but I supposed they could have been inside or in the back. "I'm Joe's brother, Dave. Do you want to ride with me to get your car?"

"I'm Nan. Sure," I told him and waited as he drove a tow truck from behind the shop. He reached over in the cab and opened the door so I could climb in the passenger's side. The car sat in the same spot, looking pitiful, but Dave wasted no time. He lifted the hood, jiggled a few things, and told me to try to start it. It started right up. "Wow, that's amazing. Should I follow you back to the garage?"

"No, we better tow it and have Joe take a look. There may be a serious problem." He hooked it up and we went back to the garage. As soon as we got there, he went inside and drove out in an old Cadillac. "Joe went to grab some dinner. He said he'd be back in a few minutes to look at the car. I have to take off. Good luck." With that, Dave waved and drove away.

A few minutes turned into an hour and I still didn't see Joe. It was eleven o'clock and except for the dim yellow light above the door of the garage, the area was black. I couldn't see other houses or cars, and didn't want to wander off. I knocked on the garage door a couple of times but Joe must have still been at dinner. With no other options, I stretched out on the bench for a nap.

I might have been dreaming, because I felt something cover my face. It was wet and had a strong smell I didn't recognize. I fell right back to sleep. When I woke again, things were completely different. I knew I'd opened my eyes, but I couldn't see anything and what I thought was tape, covered my mouth. My heart raced to discover someone tied my hands, pulled them over my head, and attached them to something. I sat on the ground with my legs stretched out in front of me and my feet bound.

My fear turned to terror when I heard a door open and heavy footsteps come closer. Who ever it was knelt next to me and fingered my hair and began rubbing my breasts. Was it Joe? Was he some kind of psycho? I began to scream through the tape and move around as much as I could, but he slapped me. Then I felt him unbuttoning my blouse and a rock formed in my stomach. I continued to scream. He grabbed my hair and smashed my head back against the wall as he unbuttoned my jeans. "Shut up," he said and smacked me again. "Save your energy, there's nothing you can do."

It was Joe's brother, Dave. Why was he doing this? As I felt him tug at my jeans, I wondered if he was right. Was there nothing I could do? I couldn't believe it and remembered what Joe said. We can always do something. Maybe it'll fix things, maybe it won't, but you gotta try. I started fighting again. His face was right in front of mine, I could smell his sour breath. Rape me, kill me you son of a bitch, but I'm not going to make it easy for you. I slammed my head into his face and heard him scream.

"You bitch. You broke my nose." I heard nothing for thirty seconds, then his voice again, almost laughing. "Well, Nan, I don't care if you're alive or dead." His hands wrapped around my neck and he began to squeeze. I couldn't move but I heard a noise and suddenly felt Dave's fingers lift from my throat. He pulled away. I didn't know what was going on.

"Are you okay?" Joe pulled the tape slowly from my face and I saw we were inside the garage.

He held a pipe in his hand and my eyes widened. Maybe they were in on it together, but then I saw Dave in a heap on the floor. Joe cut my hands down and removed the tape from my wrists. "Your brother, Dave," I said, pulling my clothes back on and trying to talk at the same time.

He looked puzzled. "I don't have a brother."

I pointed at Dave while I rubbed my reddened wrists. "He said he was your brother."

Joe shook his head. "I fixed his Caddy and told him he wasn't going to get much farther in it. I don't know if he planned on taking your car or not, but it'd be my guess."

"He got it running. How could he have done that?"

"I'm afraid that was my fault. He was in the garage and after you described what happened and I came back, I told him it sounded like a simple reset of a computer switch. Those engines don't die, but the computers are ornery. He must have reset it. I'm sorry, ma'am. After I told him about the car, he knocked me over the head with something and tied me up. It took me a while when I woke up to find a hand saw to cut the tape."

I stood and hugged him, surprising him as much as myself. "You don't have anything to be sorry for, Joe. Thank you."

The police told us Dave's name was Randy Mason, wanted in six states for murder and rape. He had the Mercedes unhooked from the truck and packed with his gear that he brought after unloading the Caddy in a nearby field. They told Joe and me we'd have to come back and ID him in a couple of days. We said we would.

After finishing with the police and finally hearing I was free to leave, I climbed in the car and headed home. Joe assured me the car was just fine. I'd called Sandy from the garage and she agreed to wait at my apartment until I arrived. I didn't get home until seven a.m. and found her and Ginger asleep on the couch.

"You look awful."

"Thanks, but I feel great. How's my little girl?" I reached down to pet the still sleeping cat. Once I explained my adventure to Sandy and she recovered, I asked her if anything happened there.

"I fell asleep watching the news and had horrible nightmares," Sandy said. "There are so many problems that seem impossible to fix. It doesn't seem like we can do anything?"

"A friend of mine recently told me, 'we can always do something. Maybe it'll fix things, maybe it won't, but you gotta try. If we didn't believe that, we might as well all just drop dead'. I think he might be right."

"Where did you learn that little bit of wisdom?"

"At Joe's Garage. Where else?"