Serial Vlogger: Part Fifty
A novel in tiny slices!
It had been a long time, but today was the day. She hoped.
Lenore rode the streetcar to a vintage auto shop. Traffic was rough, but eventually, the car made it.
As she walked through the fenced-in lot, she marveled at some of the antique vehicles. Some looked to be right out of the twenties. A couple of signs indicated that some of the vehicles were for rent to entertainment companies.
Toronto had hundreds of shows filming in town at any time, so this must be where they acquired some of the more interesting vehicles.
It was a chilly day. Winter had arrived, though the snow hadn’t yet fallen. A crisp breeze blew through her heavy coat, and she bunched it tighter around herself.
She saw the ice cream truck parked by the side. The ice cream cone stood high on top as if it hadn’t gone for a swim in Lake Ontario. Or had been hit by lightning.
A young man with sandy hair and dark eyes approached her, wearing mechanic overalls and a toque.
“Is it ready yet, Mike?” she asked, nodding towards her truck.
The mechanic grinned.
“It was a big mess; we had to replace the engine and a bunch of other stuff. It would have been better just to buy a new truck, but this is an old-school ice cream truck; they don’t make them quite like this anymore, so insurance would have been a bitch. I loved working on it. Such a challenge.”
“I like my truck,” Lenore agreed. “I like the old-schoolness of it all.”
Mike led her towards the truck.
“I think the piece de resistance was finding a new ice cream cone for the roof,” the mechanic said.
“New?”
“Oh, that other one was melted, literally a pile of black goo oozing over the roof.”
“Really?”
“Well, it was hit by lightning, right? It didn’t really make it.”
Lenore chuckled.
“I can imagine. But where did you find another old-school ice cream cone?”
“Oh, you’d be surprised what vintage car lots have. We didn’t have one, but I looked on eBay and Marketplace. But even then, it turned out that a vintage car dealer up north in cottage country had one, and he was willing to part with it.”
“Wow.”
“It wasn’t cheap, but you can’t drive that truck without it. I mean, you could, but…”
“The giant cone is the best part!” Lenore said. The both grinned and stared up at the ice cream cone.
“Anyway, take a look. I’ll be back in a minute.”
Mike walked over to the office.
Lenore peered into the truck at the driver’s seat side. It looked comfortable with the new upholstery. The mirrors and knobs gleamed. She reached a hand through the open window towards the steering wheel, remembering.
The storm.
The pain.
Waking up in the hospital.
Her hand went to her chest, where the burns from the necklace still haunted her flesh.
She shook her head and went around to the passenger side. She reached in and flipped the dashboard open and shut. She looked through the truck from her spot on the outside. Things seemed to be in order. Some parts were shiny and new; other parts were still intact.
“What do you think?” Mike asked. Lenore startled at his reappearance. Mike handed her the multipage invoice.
“So, insurance covered it all?” she asked as she stared at the bill.
“Pretty much, except that two-hundred-dollar deductible.”
“Wow, that’s quite a relief,” Lenore said. She wasn’t too sure how she was going to come up with two hundred bucks but it was better than the thousands she would have been out if she hadn’t bought the extra rider on her insurance. It was a good day when she thought of that one!
“Get in and give it a whirl,” he said, opening the driver-side door for Lenore. She climbed in.
“Fantastic,” she said. She settled into the driver’s seat. It WAS more comfortable! She tested the controls.
“Try the music!” Mike said.
Lenore flipped the switch for the recorded music. There it was, the familiar singsong of the ice cream truck. She skimmed the tracks, and all her favourites were still on there.
“The music is the best part!” she laughed.
“Okay, now look at the back, at the machines.”
Lenore went through the ice cream machines. They were the same ones but with some new parts: the swirly cone with both vanilla and chocolate, the fudge station and other sauces, the jimmies and other containers ready to be filled, and a new freezer—a larger freezer.
“Wow, love this freezer!” Lenore said as she looked into it. “It’s huge!”
“Yep. So, the truck is ready to go. You just need to go order all the stuff that goes in it, and you’ll be good to get back to work. How are you feeling, anyway?”
“A thousand times better. I’m not sure what happened that day; flashes still come and go, but I’m doing way better,” Lenore lied.
She wasn’t doing better. She hurt all the time; various aches and pains mysteriously came and went. She had horrific dreams. She woke up in strange places. None of it was good. But lying about your health was the Canadian way.
“Glad to hear it!” Mike said.
“Thanks so much for everything!” Lenore said as she started up the truck.
“Any problems, just bring her back.”
“Will do!”
“Thank you for bringing your business. That insurance check is mighty sweet. Just like your ice cream.”
