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Infiniti at the Gates of Dawn

The light of the sun can be seen in the east.   It's very dim, but it's there.   "That's good," Brenda says.   "At least we get a real sunrise.   No clouds."
I nod.   The CD player's got Tom Petty going; it's his 'Hard Promises' album.   It's moved to the second track, which is 'A Woman In Love'.   It's one of those songs that instantly takes me back to the Destroyer and Submarine piers at the Norfolk Naval Base, to blistering hot summer days.   Come to think of it, I associate Tom Petty with summer.   He provided a soundtrack to beer, and beach sand.   To carefree days, and restless nights, to aimlessly wandering car rides with your friends, with nothing to do, but talk endlessly about nothing.   'Hard Promises' and 'Damn The Torpedoes', cassettes that played and played and played in car tape decks.   Tom Petty was a signficant part of the soundtrack of Youth.

We're tooling along in the metallic orange Infiniti FX35 that belongs to Brenda's roommates, who have gone to Cancun for a couple of weeks.   I can see Brenda's darkened form at the steering wheel, as we pass a blacked out Volkswagen dealer on Route 66 in Neptune Township.   The sunlight in the horizon grows just a tad lighter as we move along.

In the back seat are two slumbering forms.   On the right side's my friend Crystal, who's snoring quietly.   Girl just can't get used to my irregular, crazy schedule, let's say she's collapsed.   On the left side would be the one, the only, the lovely Rochelle Peyton.   She's fast asleep.   Her work schedule, her children, her silly boyfriend, have literally worn her out to a nub.   She's snoring, also.   Stereo.   If Tom Petty weren't entertaining us, I'd think that both Rochelle and Crystal were offering a nocturnal symphony.

"Neither of them know where we're going?" Brenda asks softly.
"I don't recall telling them."
"That's okay.   I like aimlessness.   My whole life's filled with aimlessness."
"Only yours?"
Brenda smiles.   "Our lives."
"That's right.   I can't remember when I had Aim that wasn't a toothpaste."
Brenda sighs.   "I'm forty-eight, you're forty-six, it's six o'clock on a Sunday morning, and we're heading down the shore in freezing fucking January, do you think we're ever gonna grow up?"
"I hope not."

We are in what has become a not-so-nice community, known as Neptune.   It's become poor, and just a bit dangerous.   Even at this time, I see young, solitary individuals on the street corner, looking about surreptitiously.   I see a woman, walking along, here or there.   They may be out trying to drum up business...but then again, maybe not.   "You said you made sandwiches?" I ask of the driver.
"Of course.   Do I ever take you anywhere and not make you sandwiches?
"I think I'm getting hungry."
"It's in the back.   I'll get it after we stop."
Neptune instantly disappears after we cross through a signal.   What greets us is a haven of post-Civil War Victorians, in quite snazzy colors, known as Ocean Grove.   Ocean Grove is a resort town that was founded by the Camp Meeting, in the decade after the Civil War.   There's a marvelous, old auditorium that overlooks a long mall flanked on each side by magnificent Victorian bed and breakfasts, all the way to the boardwalk, which is crowned by a pavillion that hosts Methodist services on Sunday morning.   Recently, there's been a controversy over the town allowing gay weddings in the pavillion.   Brenda sniffs, "it's all horseshit.   If you get married, you're only looking for trouble."

We drive through town, and park in a spot directly in front of the boardwalk.   The pavillion's about two hundred yards to the north of us.   The sunrise is now illuminating the faces of the inhabitants in the back seat, as well as those in the front.   Rochelle's face shows such peace.   It truly is a beautiful face.

"It's fantastic, isn't it?" Brenda asks.
"Yep.   I've always loved this place."   I stretch my arms, and I yawn.   "I come down in the summertime in the early morning.   It makes you glad to be alive."
A ray of sunlight catches Rochelle's eyelids; she awakens.   "Where are we?"
"We're in a nice place," Brenda whispers.
Rochelle stirs; her activity wakes Crystal up.   "Did I sleep?" she asks.
"Oh, you sure did.   Crystal, can you reach back behind you, and bring up that big bag there?"
"Sure."   This she does.   "Where are we?"
"Look around."
Crystal does this, too.   Her eyes catch the colorful Victorian landscape behind her.   In front of her's a wooden structure that stretches to the left to the line of sight, and behind that, only sky.   "Wow...those houses are beautiful."
"I think we're at the beach," Rochelle says.
I pull a sandwich out from the bag.   "Rochelle wins ten arcade tickets."
"Are we really?" Crystal asks.
"Why don't you go out and see?" inquires Brenda.  " Button up, it's gonna be very cold outside."
"I'm going out, too," I say, putting the sandwich on top of the dashboard.

We both exit the car.   The wind is bracing, of course.   I take Crystal's hand, and walk up onto the deserted boardwalk.   It's very cold, and almost instantly, our faces turn red.
"Take a good look, sweetie," I say.   "That's the Atlantic Ocean."
The breakers are somewhat whitecapped.   The wind makes a ruffing sound in our ears.   "It's beautiful.   I didn't think I'd ever see the Atlantic Ocean.   Straight across the sea's Europe."
"That's what they tell me."
We stand, and watch.   All there is is the sound of the sea breeze.   There are no other beings out to witness this sunrise, this beautiful sunrise.   Just the four of us.   "I'm glad I made this trip, George."
"I'm glad you came, too.   When you come in the summer time, there will be so much more to do.   I mean, here, if we stand much longer, we're gonna become ice sculptures."
She laughs.
"Let's go," I say.   "I have a date with Brenda's sandwich."
"I have a date with a ladie's room," she replies.

Posted by Knoxxie03 on 2008-01-26 19:57:17 | Rating: