Marshall got into the high-end, custom-made conversions, the carriage trade lined up and the business’s annual income became serious money.
“I didn’t mean to imply that Marsh did it all himself,” Sara was saying when McKenna’s attention came back to her. McKenna gestured for her sister-in-law to stop talking.
“George Hightower is not an idiot. He’s a capable manager and Marshall trusted him implicitly. So do I. George will keep things moving if he has to go out on the floor and run the machines himself.” She paused, waiting for Sara to refute her statement. Sara looked as if she disagreed, but she remained quiet.
“Good. Then there’s nothing to keep me from pursuing my dream. Marshall is gone and I’m free and single. I’m alone here and I want to do this before I die.”
“You’re not dying...” Sara said but then questioned, her expression changing to concern.
“We’re all dying, Sara!” McKenna shouted. Fighting to quickly compose herself, she continued, her voice at its normal volume. “When Marshall died, I wanted to die, too. My life had been so much his life. Without him I didn’t know what to do, but after I was running the company alone for a while, I felt the old me emerging.”
McKenna looked at her friends, studying their faces. “You remember the old me, don’t you? I used to be brave, yearning for new experiences. I loved Marshall, but he held me back.”
“Held you back. How?” Sara challenged.
“He didn’t mean to, Sara. And I let it happen.” She said the words gently. “I was happy to run the house, take a backseat to his decisions. I was happy to do what he wanted. We planned to have children, but our efforts were focused on the factory. We started the business and settled in. It took all our time and energy. But he’s gone now and I don’t want to die thinking I shoulda, woulda, coulda followed my heart and I didn’t. If I fail, at least I’ll know I gave it a chance. Can’t you understand that?”
For a moment it was quiet in the garage. Silently she pleaded for their understanding. Lydia, Sara and Adrienne all had different expressions. McKenna didn’t know if they were reviewing the younger versions of themselves, the people they used to be when their dreams were fresh and new and the thought of not accomplishing them wasn’t an option, or if they were judging her.
“You haven’t said anything, Lydia,” Sara prompted. “What do you think of McKenna’s plan?”
Lydia Osbourne was McKenna’s oldest friend. “I don’t think you can make a trip like this alone,” she said.
“There,” Sara seized the comment as consent that Lydia was in her corner. “Lydia’s right. What woman do you know who wants to drive from here to Los Angeles alone?”
“And on roads that are cracked, overgrown with weeds or so badly in need of repair they’re essentially nonexistent,” Adrienne said.
“You’re not going to talk me out of this,” McKenna said. “I’ve planned it for a year and I’m leaving in ten days.”
“Ten days,” Adrienne said. “This car may not make it from here to California. That’s got to be...”
“2,400 miles along Route 66,” McKenna finished for her. “And I know every single part of this automobile. I have personally installed every part, every piece. I know what its purpose is and what it needs to keep it working properly. This car is better equipped for a road trip than anything any of you drive.” Her comment was a challenge and she didn’t care how they took it.
There were drawbacks, but McKenna didn’t know what they were yet. She chalked that up to being part of the adventure.
“At least take someone with you,” Lydia said.
“The car’s only got two seats and no trunk to speak of,” Sara observed. “Where are you going to stay and how can you even put one suitcase in this thing, let alone one for another person?”
“Only you would call a fully restored ’59 Corvette a thing, Sara. I’m not planning on taking much. I want to travel the land the way the two guys on Route 66 did it.”
“I thought Route 66 was a road?” Lydia asked.
“A defunct road,” Adrienne added.
“It’s an old television series, with two guys traveling the roads, finding work where they could, and having a wonderful time,” McKenna explained.
“I never heard of such a thing,” Sara said.
“It was before our time, but I watched the reruns on Nick at Nite,” McKenna said. She’d watched them while Marshall was ill. It played in the hospital and she felt as if those two guys had kept her sane during an insane time.
“Isn’t that a children’s television station?” Adrienne asked.
“During the day, but at night they play vintage programs. The guys were Buz and Tod and they were the hottest thing going during the late ’60s. They traveled that road working and meeting people along the way.”
“How would you know? You weren’t even born then.”
McKenna was tired of explaining herself. She was going and that should be that. “The internet,” she finally said, unwilling to go into how much she had read on the subject, the books, songs, associations she’d joined, not to mention the two Disney movies surrounding that road that came out only a few years ago.
“All of this is because of some fifty-year-old television program? I cannot believe you,” Sara said.
McKenna clenched her jaws. At this moment she could strangle Sara. She wanted her friends to approve of her trip, not plant doom in her head.
“Sara, the show was only part of the inspiration for the trip, but it’s something I want to do. I’d forgotten about it until I started watching those reruns.”
“Sara has a good point, McKenna,” Lydia said. “Have you given this enough thought? There are hundreds of things that can go wrong on the road. And trying to work your way to LA. How long do you think this is going to take? And what about emergencies?”
“I’ll deal with them. If I can build a car, I can certainly drive it.”
Lydia looked the car over with the eye of a teenage greaser. “It’s very low to the ground. Those roads haven’t been maintained in years, if ever. You’re likely to have trouble with the muffler and oil.”
“I can handle it.”
“If you get someone to go with you, I’d feel better.”
“How about you going with me?” she asked Lydia.
“What?” Lydia said. “I can’t—”
“Why not?” McKenna interrupted. “What are you doing for the next few months?”
“I have a job.”
Lydia was a dressmaker by profession. She had a shop attached to her house and Sara worked there, too. They mainly did wedding gowns and big-ticket dresses for wealthy clients.
“Sara
