Car Maintenance

Copyright Oggbashan August 2019

The author asserts the moral right to be identified as the author of this work.

This is a work of fiction. The events described here are imaginary; the settings and characters are fictitious and are not intended to represent specific places or living persons.

+++

I had completed my professional qualification at the weekly evening classes in the mid-1960s. This academic year I was offered a discount on some summer break classes as a previous attendee. I chose the five session introduction to car maintenance class. There were four reasons. The first was the tutor, a mechanic at the local specialist sports car dealership. The second was the age and state of my two vehicles, both later 1940s small Fords. I had two cars because one or other was almost always in need of attention. As yet I couldn't afford anything better because I was paying the mortgage on my house. The third was that I had no local friends. My work was twenty miles away and the previous course had been near my office. I had spent too much time on my studies or renovating my house to socialise locally. I might meet some local people at the class. The fourth reason was that the course was at the school next to my house.

When I arrived for the first evening class on a Thursday evening I was surprised that all the other students were young women. As we introduced ourselves it was obvious that they needed more basic knowledge than me. I knew how to check oil, tyres, battery and how to do basic maintenance. They didn't.

Dave, the instructor, had asked us, one by one, what we expected to learn from the lessons. The women were unanimous. They wanted to know enough to look after the cars, to know if anything serious was wrong, and how to talk to garage mechanics. I wanted more, far more. Both of my vehicles had an occasional tendency to drop out of second gear. I needed to know how to remove the engine and gearbox, and how to rebuild the gearbox to solve the problem of second gear. After that, how to reline the big ends, decoke the cylinder head, adjust the valves -- far more technical tasks than the women were contemplating. Five of the women were still on provisional licences and wanted to take their driving tests before they could buy a car. They wanted advice, as did some of the others, on which cars were suitable for inexperienced drivers.

Dave had a problem. His car was one of the dealership's specials and not really suitable for showing how to do basic checks. The engine was crammed into a small space, not easily accessible. I lived closest. Why not? I had bought what had been the school headmaster's house before the war. It had been damaged in the 1944 flying bomb campaign that had killed the new headmaster. That was why I could afford it, as a wreck untouched since 1944, and had been repairing it with my father's and brothers' help. It was now sound and waterproof but still needed modernisation. I had bought it damaged but still full of the previous owner's contents from before the war.

Dave asked me to bring one of my cars, an E93A Prefect. It took me a couple of minutes to move it from my drive to the school's playground. I placed it under an outside light and lifted the bonnet. Dave asked me to explain the use of the dipstick, the oil filler, the water level etc. I was almost swamped by attractive young ladies watching my every move.

We went back into the classroom where Dave told us what we should check daily and weekly. He gave out a list of regular items and some homework to emphasise the importance of some of the checks. We should have had a coffee break but the school's coffee machine was broken. I offered my kitchen? Why not? It was closer than the coffee machine and the coffee would be far better. I just had enough mugs for the thirteen of us, plus Dave. Dave was worried. A dozen was the minimum class size for the authorities to fund the course. If one or more of us dropped out? The course would end and the further sessions planned for next academic year would never start.

The women seemed to know each other. Over coffee they considered whether anyone else could be persuaded to join the course. They had at least another ten names to approach by the time we went back to the classroom.

By the end of the first lesson I was slightly concerned. The women knew each other. I was a definite outsider who wanted more from the classes than they did. I was nervous about being with so many women. Despite being in my mid-twenties I hadn't really had a serious girlfriend. I had been too busy working on my house and doing my professional qualifications. Both had left with little time and almost no money for socialising.

As we were leaving after the lesson, one of the women stopped me.

"Tom? Could a couple of us come back to your kitchen for a few minutes?" she asked.

"Yes. Of course," I replied almost automatically. "I can't provide coffee without rinsing out some mugs."

"That's OK. We'll wait for you to move your car."

They did. A couple of minutes later there were four women in my kitchen. All of them were nearly as tall as I am and I'm not short at just over six feet. If they were wearing heels they might look taller than me. Ruth, the one who had spoken to me earlier, rinsed out some mugs while the kettle boiled.

"Tom. I'm Ruth. The four of us are sisters. They are Sandra, Jenny and Maddy."

"Madeline, not Maddy," Madeline retorted.

"Pleased to meet you," I said.

"I'm not sure you are," Sandra said. "You looked and behaved like a startled rabbit when faced by twelve of us."

"It was a bit of a shock," I admitted cautiously.

"We can be. All twelve of us have been friends since primary school. We often go places as a group. Any boyfriends have to accept the other eleven as our close friends..."

"They do, Sandra, of if not, they don't stay as boyfriends for long," Madeline said.

"But, Tom, we want your help," Ruth said.

"My help? How?"

"We need this course to continue for the full five classes and into next year. We want to learn. Using your car and your kitchen does help. But what if there were more of us than there are now?"

"I can seat many more in the living room. I'd be short of mugs, would need to get more coffee and milk, but we could cope."

"Can we see your living room?" Jenny asked.

"Of course. Follow me."

They grabbed their coffee. As we went through the hall I pointed out the downstairs cloakroom. The living room runs from the bay window at the front to the conservatory doors at the back. There are two fireplaces, neither of which was lit. There is enough seating for about twenty people if they sat close together. More chairs could be brought in if required.

Madeline and Jenny sat on the longest settee. Ruth and Sandra gently pushed me to sit between the two, before adding themselves at the outside ends.

"Yes, this has possibilities," Ruth announced.

I was blushing. Madeline and Jenny were pressed very closely against me. I hadn't been that close to women for years. I gulped my coffee to try to conceal my confusion.

"In winter I would have to light the fires," I gabbled. "The central heating is a project for next year, after the bathrooms..."

"Bathrooms?" Jenny asked, "As in more than one?"

"Yes, Jenny. I hope to replace the bathroom fittings on the first floor, make an ensuite for the main bedroom, and add two more bathrooms on the second floor."

"How many people live here?" Jenny asked.

"Me. Just me."

"And you want four bathrooms for 'just me'?"

"If I sell the house, as a family home, four bathrooms would be an asset."

"I can see that, but four seems excessive even for a family. How many bedrooms are there, Tom?"

"Nine, and there still would be nine after I've created four bathrooms."

"I'd like a house with four bathrooms," Ruth said. "No arguments about family members blocking the loo..."

"And time to relax without worrying," Sandra added.

"But we are straying from the point," Madeline said. "we need to discuss the car maintenance course. At present Dave has barely enough students. If any of us drop out, for whatever reason, the class might not be viable."

"All of us have contacts we're going to approach before next week," Ruth said. "That should give us another four women at least. Tom? Anyone you know?"

"I don't really know anyone..."

Ruth looked at me as if I was deficient.

"No one?"

"No one close enough to attend. My only contacts are through work and family. They all live some distance away. I haven't got any local friends, Ruth."

"You have now. You have the four of us, and that means the whole twelve of us. You are going to help us, and we're going to help you."

"Help me? How, Ruth?"

"By being your local friends. You won't know what's hit you but you'll enjoy it. We need to repay you for coffee and hospitality. Are you free Saturday morning?"

"Yes. I'd be doing some plumbing this weekend but that can be done anytime."

"Right. This house is great but it needs cleaning. The four of us will be here nine o'clock on Saturday morning as a working party. We'll need coffee. You can do that?"

I nodded.

But..." I started to say. Madeline's lips stifled my protest. She wriggled on to my lap, wound her arms around my head, and made a real production of her kissing. As she stopped I heard Ruth say:

"That's just a sample of what having some female friends will be like, Tom. Any objections will be prevented the same way..."

A few minutes later they had left. Each one of the four gave me a goodbye kiss. Ruth, the last, hugged me and seemed unwilling to let me go. At the end of her kiss I asked:

"Why?"

"Why what, Tom?" Ruth retorted.

"Why the kisses and hugs?"

"Perhaps because we like you?"

"But you don't really know me. I could be..."

"You're not, Tom. And we do know you. Maddy went out with your older brother Alan a year or so ago. She met you and your family."

"Did she? I didn't recognise her, or her name."

"Maddy was brunette then. Now she's blonde. She was calling herself Anne... That ring any bells?"

"Anne? Yes. I met Anne. She seemed very shy and quiet then."

"She was getting over an arsehole. Alan helped her but they didn't really work out. It was the wrong time for her -- then."

"OK. So you know something about me from Maddy or Anne. But why were you all over me? I'm not objecting but..."

Ruth sighed. "We decided to join the car maintenance class because we thought we'd meet some new men. There's only you, and Dave, but Dave is engaged. He's doing the classes to raise money for a house purchase. Sharon, his fiancée, is one of our wider group of friends. She helped to persuade us to join Dave's class."

"Which is threatened by lack of numbers, and I can't help, Ruth."

"Your coffee helps, during the lesson, and afterwards. If we get more students and I'm sure we will, you'll need more mugs, coffee and milk. We can make a contribution for the coffee and milk. If we have any spare mugs we'll bring them on Saturday."

"I'll probably get some new ones from Woolworths tomorrow. The few I have don't match."

"Can you afford new mugs, Tom?"

"Yes -- now. I had been spending too much on house repairs that are now finished. The projects are for improvements that I can do when time and money allow. Six months, a year? They don't matter now the house is structurally sound and weatherproof."

"That's another thing we like about you, Tom. You're doing things instead of drinking at the pub every night."

"Not every night. I like a pint once or twice a week."

"Most of us have experienced men who drink too much and become arseholes when they are drunk. You're a welcome change."

Ruth kissed me again.

"We'll be here at nine o'clock on Saturday morning. Don't forget to stock up on coffee and milk."

She was gone.

I sat back down on the settee not sure what had hit me. What would Saturday morning be like? As for Madeline who had been called Anne? Now she seemed to be a totally different woman. Anne had been sad, colourless and self-effacing. She hadn't made much impression on me when she was Alan's girlfriend. Perhaps in the later stages of their relationship she had been more animated but nothing like the blonde Madeline who had kissed me this evening. Madeline had more impact on me in a couple of minutes than Anne had done in over a year of her relationship with Alan.

+++

After work on Friday I bought two dozen matching mugs from Woolworths and some more milk and coffee from the small shop nearest my house. I was still worried about having so many young attractive women visiting me tomorrow. What did they want from me? I wasn't even sure how to talk to women, and certainly not how to react when hugged and kissed by a group of them.

+++

On Saturday morning Madeline was the first to arrive. She lived close by and had walked. The others were coming by car. As I was making coffee for her I asked idly:

"Why were you Anne when you went out with my brother Alan?"

"Simple. Alan knew I was Madeline but I was fed up being called Mad or Maddy as Steve, my previous boyfriend had, and my school friends had too. It was partly my parents' fault. They christened me Madeline Anne but their surname is Daniels giving me the initials M A D -- hence Mad or Maddy. Steve had turned Mad into almost a term of abuse. I asked Alan to call me Anne, and he did, every time."

"But Alan didn't last?"

"No. He was great, polite, helpful and for the first few months would let us do whatever I wanted us to do. I used him as a means of recovering my self-esteem but both of us were on the rebound after awkward relationships. I used him, possibly abused him, by treating him like a doormat to walk all over. That wasn't the real me, it was the me who needed to recover. Eventually Alan and I decided, together, that we needed to move on to a more normal relationship with someone else because our interests didn't match and we couldn't fake enthusiasm for the other's activities."

"Alan is dedicated to rugby, isn't he?"

"Yes, and I didn't like standing in the cold on the edge of a muddy field watching something I didn't understand."

"What was your interest that Alan didn't share?"

"Visiting stately homes and gardens. My parents are members of the National Trust and had taken me to many places when I was young. They give me places to forget the working week and relax, enjoying memories of my childhood, and seeing places and things from the past. Sometimes I imagine myself as a noble lady with big skirts sweeping my way down the staircase, or through the formal rooms, or strolling the gardens with my parasol."

"Have you ever done that, as part of a re-enactment event, for example?"

"No, Tom. I don't have the clothes or the skills to make them. Perhaps I might like to try it once or twice but the people I have seen seem too fanatical about what they are doing. I'd just like to try it sometimes but I'd probably trip over my skirts or mishandle a crinoline, showing far more than I should. I'd be slightly scared of appearing ridiculous."

"Maybe there is somewhere...?"

At that point Ruth arrived with the other two sisters and my discussion with Madeline ended.

Ruth was loud and organising. I wasn't surprised to learn that she was the eldest of the four sisters.

Ruth decided to start with the kitchen.

"It's not bad, Tom, but dated. It could do with a thorough clean of everything."

"Dated? Yes it is. It was my parents' kitchen and I took it when they installed a new one. Everything came from them, including the electric cooker, the washing machine and dryer, but not the solid fuel AGA. That was here when I bought the house, as were a lot of things. I only use it in the cooler months. It keeps the kitchen warm and cosy and heats the hot water. In the summer I use the electric cooker and an immersion heater for the water."

"Have you got a vacuum cleaner, Tom?" Ruth asked. "The hall, stairs and landings are dusty."

"Um -- yes, but..."

"What does 'yes, but' mean Tom?"

"I have an old pre-war cylinder machine that I used to use, but it's got the old fashioned plug on it that fitted the sockets before I rewired. I've bought a new one but it's still in its box. I need to fit new plugs to both. I've got the plugs, just haven't got around to fitting them yet."

To my surprise, none of the women knew how to wire an electrical plug. I had to give a demonstration on how to do it. Every woman wanted to see how to do it so I had to fit and remove the plugs several times. It became obvious that none of them knew how to use a screwdriver, that there were different types of screwdriver, and certainly not how to use pliers to strip wires, Instead of a few minutes it was over an hour before both cleaners had new plugs and were in use, and the kitchen clean started.

While they were busy I looked through my small collection of tourist leaflets until I found what I thought I remembered seeing. I telephoned the attraction and made a provisional booking for noon on Saturday afternoon. I would have to confirm the booking by four o'clock tomorrow and pay on arrival.

At eleven o'clock they stopped for a coffee break. While they were cleaning I had been rummaging in one of the unused bedrooms. I had found what I was looking for, several basic sets of Meccano. I put them on the kitchen table and demonstrated how to build a simple model, using nuts, bolts, screwdriver and spanners. Ruth had a go, and failed. Only Madeline had some success. I explained that if they were going to progress at the car maintenance class, they needed to know how to use screwdrivers, spanners and other tools as well.

They had brought ingredients for a cooked lunch, showing me that even if they didn't know how to use tools, they did know how to cook better than I could.

After lunch, Ruth decided for all the sisters, that instead of continuing cleaning, they would ask me to demonstrate the use of tools. I brought my old bicycle into the living room and showed how to remove and replace the front wheel, how to adjust the saddle and handlebars, and how to remove and replace the brakes. Then I asked them to start with removing and replacing the front wheel, adjusting the cones and making sure the wheel was centred and running smoothly. It was nearly tea time before all of them had done that.

Ruth made the tea in the sparkling kitchen. It had never been that clean even when I had just installed it. In the living room I had to put my cup down as all of them demonstrated their thanks for a lesson on using tools. They were giving me a lesson in how to kiss, and how to react when an armful of young woman was on my lap hugging and kissing me.

As I had hoped, the three who had arrived by car left before Madeline who stayed behind to wash up the tea things.

"Are you doing anything next Saturday, Madeline," I asked tentatively.

"I don't think so, Tom. Why?"

"Would you come out with me, to a museum? It's a bit far away so will be an all day trip."

"Are you asking me for a date, Tom?"

"Yes, Madeline, but I would understand if you said no. But I think you'll like it. Can you dance?

"Yes, Tom. Can you?"

"Yes, I can, Madeline. There are no preconditions to the date."

"Yes, Tom. Thank you. I accept. When?"

"Can I collect you about nine on Saturday morning? We would be back about six, traffic permitting."

"Yes, Tom."

Madeline gave me her address, only about one hundred yards away.

"Is it weather dependent, Tom?"

"No... At least I don't think so. It could be a long walk from the car park so some whether protection might be required, and casual clothes with walking shoes might be sensible. It's not a place for high heels..."

"But you're not telling me where?"

"I'd rather it was a surprise but if you are worried by being alone with me..."