The sun hung low over Main Street, throwing golden glints across rows of polished chrome. It was the annual Summer Classic Car Show, and the sleepy town had transformed into a cathedral of steel and horsepower. Engines purred like big cats, and the air was thick with the sweet scent of wax, motor oil, and nostalgia.
Ray shuffled along the line of gleaming machines, his calloused hands stuffed in the pockets of his faded jeans. He’d come every year, but this time felt different. Maybe it was the way his knees ached, or maybe it was the empty passenger seat in his old Chevy pickup parked two blocks away. Linda had loved these shows. She used to point out the fins on the ’59 Cadillacs and laugh at the outrageous paint jobs on the muscle cars. “It’s like they’re peacocks,” she’d say, her smile brighter than any chrome.
Ray stopped in front of a candy-apple-red ’57 Bel Air convertible. The car sparkled under the afternoon sun like it had rolled straight out of a dream. He leaned in, tracing the perfect curve of the fender with his eyes. “Drove one just like it,” he murmured.
“You owned a Bel Air?” A young voice piped up. Ray turned to see a kid—maybe seventeen—leaning against a Dodge Challenger, arms crossed, eyes wide with curiosity.
“Sure did,” Ray said, a small grin tugging at his lips. “Paid three hundred bucks for it back in ’66. Thought I was king of the world.”
The kid whistled. “Bet it was fast.”
Ray chuckled. “It wasn’t about fast. It was about freedom. Friday nights, top down, radio up, no one telling you where to be. Just… you and the road.”
The kid nodded slowly, like he was trying to picture it. “Man, I wish I could’ve seen that.”
Ray looked at him for a long moment, then patted the car’s chrome trim. “You will. Just keep these old beauties alive. They’re not just cars—they’re time machines.”
As the kid smiled, Ray walked on, weaving through the crowd. The engines rumbled behind him, each note a reminder that the past wasn’t gone—it just wore a fresh coat of wax and waited for someone to remember.
And for the first time in months, Ray smiled without the weight of yesterday pulling it down.
Michael J McCluskey 