I didn’t remember whether any mention had been made by Richard about the Chevy having positraction. I learned that it did when Mary took off to head for the store. I watched the back end of the car disappear up Lobos Marinos until she took the corner heading north on South Ola Vista. She’d turned on the full-throated quality stereo in the rig and Herb Alpert and Tijuana Brass blasted out through her open windows. I looked down at the two short marks her chirping rear tires made on the concrete. Although she hadn’t wound the engine up to anything close to its maximum rpm she also hadn’t held much back. I was creating a new monster in the household without having had any warning. Bozo stared back at me from the thin green strip of grass that ran between the curb and the sidewalk as if his mind was thinking the same thing mine was.

The Tijuana Brass had been played at every morning gathering of my Basic Class at Quantico by Major Kramer, our battalion commander, and an enemy to me. I’d loved the Brass every morning but hated him, not having an understanding at the time that many of the military commanders I’d serve under were more like him than I’d have ever believed before serving. Before my wife had driven away I’d have never believed that the Herb Alpert stuff would always remind me of Kramer whenever I heard it played.

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