The Perfect Car - 1. The Perfect Car

John loved his car. It was his pride and joy, the first car bought with his own money that he saved. One hundred and fifty pounds may not sound like much today, but back in 1977, it was equal to six weeks of wages. The powder blue Ford Anglia 105e wasn't his first choice, but it was all he could afford. When he went to view it, he felt drawn to it as though he was meant to have this car and no other. The bodywork was in remarkably good condition, its smooth, streamlined, and almost 'Americanised' design drew him in like a magnet.

Although the car was nearly twenty years old, the 997cc engine still purred and performed like it was fresh off the production line. He bought the car from the original owner’s widow, who insisted the car was meant for him and included the wicker picnic basket they had used on day trips to the countryside.

Every Saturday, John cleaned and polished his car. Today was special, and he put in extra effort. He polished it earnestly until the paintwork was flawless, and the chrome gleamed like the showroom beauty it once was. Next, he attacked the interior until every trace of dust was eliminated, the leather was buffed until it smelled new again, and all the fingerprints were polished from the dashboard and dials. Lastly, the windows were left sparking like crystal.

It wasn’t only about appearances. John spent just as much time making sure the fluids were topped up, including the petrol and the oil.

The car was ready to go; he even had the picnic basket prepared and waiting in the kitchen. The only thing left to do now was get himself cleaned up and ready for the evening.

John was just as meticulous with his own cleanliness: bathing, shaving, and brushing his teeth. After slipping on new tight, white y-fronts and black socks, he pulled on his new denim jeans, a white t-shirt, and then laced up his polished boots. John patted his pockets, making sure he had his wallet and keys, then slid his arms into the leather pilot jacket that fit him like a glove.

Placing the picnic basket into the boot, he hoped Steve would appreciate his efforts and enjoy his plans for the evening. Turning the key, the engine came to life on the first try, purring perfectly. Reaching for the new stereo, one he fitted earlier that day, he turned it on and played a cassette tape containing his favourite mix of current Motown hits. Driving away from his parent’s three-bedroom semi in Clay Lane, he started the two-mile journey to Steve’s house in Robin Hood Lane.

Steve approached the car, smiling as soon as John pulled up. “You've been cleaning the car again, haven't you? I swear you love this car more than you love me.”

“No, I do love you more, only a little bit, but I do love you more.”

Steve opened the door and sat in the front passenger seat, resisting the urge to kiss him as it was too public. John smiled at the man he loved. When Steve closed the passenger door, John checked his rear-view mirror and drove off.

“Oooh, what's this music?” Steve asked rhetorically. Reaching for the new stereo, he stopped the tape and switched to the radio preferring to tune into the pirate radio station Radio Caroline. Listening to his favourite DJ, he sat back, placing his right hand on John's left thigh and squeezed. “So, what exactly are these plans you have for tonight?”

“It's supposed to be a surprise.” He winked. “You can try and guess while I drive. Who knows, you might just guess right.”

Steve closed his eyes and sighed. “No, I'm going to keep my eyes closed. I love your surprises.”

The drive was uneventful. It took thirty minutes to make the six-mile journey, stopping only at red traffic lights. On the drive up the hill, John dropped the car into third gear to maintain speed. At the top of the hill, he dropped into second as he turned onto the winding country lane, then went back up through the gears to fourth and maintained speed until he reached the turnoff.

As John turned into the carpark, Steve spoke as he kept his eyes closed. “I know where we are; I can feel it. We're at Beacon Hill aren't we?”

John’s jaw dropped. “How did you guess that? You've had your eyes closed all the way, or have you been sneakily peeking?”

“I didn't need to peek. When I opened the window slightly, I could smell the forest, and you know this is one of my favourite places.”

“Well, you guessed right. You can open your eyes now.”

John leaned over so when Steve opened his cobalt blue eyes, they were looking right at him. Steve smiled softly then glanced around, probably checking to see if they were alone before closing the distance and kissing John with his full, lush lips. John responded quickly, opening his mouth, and pushing out his tongue to lick Steve’s lips until their tongues started duelling. John felt himself growing in his groin, making his jeans tight. Judging by Steve’s bulge, he was feeling the same.

John pulled away from the kiss and placed his hand on the door handle. “Come on. Let’s go for a walk and work up an appetite. I’ve got a picnic in the boot.”

The young men stepped into September’s early evening sunshine. Despite the slight breeze, there was still warmth in the air. They locked their jackets in the boot and wrapped their arms around each other’s waist. John briefly rested his head against Steve’s, then they went for a walk among the trees. The sun shone through the branches, dappling them with its rays.

They were a handsome couple, both standing a little over six feet with strong, slim, athletic bodies. John’s side-parted brown hair just reached his ears, while Steve’s shorter, jet-black hair was slicked back.

Forty-five minutes later their circular walk brought them back to the carpark just as the sun was touching the horizon. They were the only ones still there.

Taking the picnic basket and blanket from the boot, they made their way to the only point on the summit where they could watch the sun go down. This placed the city of Birmingham behind them. John laid the blanket on the ground, then began unpacking a picnic of sandwiches, salad, and a small selection of nibbles, along with a bottle of sparkling grape juice and two glasses.

Steve watched their date unfold with rapt attention. “John, this is great. You’ve thought of everything.”

As they sat, John leant over, taking Steve in his arms, and placing a passionate kiss on his lips. “Happy Birthday. I hope you like the surprises.” John gave Steve another deep kiss, then said, “Let's eat before the sun goes down and the midges get us.”

They enjoyed each other’s company and the food as the sun sank on the horizon. Once they finished eating, John opened another container which held a small cake he'd baked. It was just big enough for two of them. The cake was covered in chocolate butter icing and decorated with the words I Love You. “Make a wish.”

John noticed that Steve appeared to be choking back tears as he cut the cake. He hoped they were happy tears and happy wishes.

John smiled to himself. All he wanted was to plan the perfect evening for his love. Still, apprehension tightened around his heart. What he was about to say was big. Even though he thought he knew what Steve's answer would be, he couldn’t take it for granted.

When Steve looked up, his face fell, and his eyes flashed with worry. John knew he hadn’t hidden his feelings; they were written on his face. “You know we can never have everything, right? I mean, if one of us was a girl, we could get married, but we're both men so we can't. Even though homosexuality is legal, we still have to hide our feelings, and I'm sick of it.”

Steve’s lip quivered. It didn’t take long for John to realize he was going about it all wrong and was likely making Steve fear the worst. John reached out and took Steve’s hand “Please don't be upset. This is coming out all wrong. I'll get right to the point. We’ve been together for seven years, since we were in school. We’ve committed ourselves to one another. I think we should rent a home together. Just you and I. We're both earning enough. Then we can be ourselves.”

The worry that had consumed Steve’s beautiful eyes only moments earlier vanished. “Yes, yes, yes, yes!” John didn’t think he’d ever seen Steve smile so brightly. “Why don't we buy instead?”

John answered the question with a heated kiss. As the sun sank beneath the horizon, they rolled on the blanket, fervently kissing. The evening ended with them making love to each other in the moonlight before going home.

***********

Maxine and Charlie sat on either side of their father’s bed, holding John’s hand as they watched him sleep. The beeping of monitors broke the silence in the ICU ward at Queen Elizabeth Hospital. They knew from their father’s rapid eye movement that he was dreaming. They hoped that was the case, anyway.

Then the movement stopped, and they gasped when their father opened his eyes.

They watched with bated breath as John squeezed their hands. “You both know I love you. We both loved you. You were and are the most treasured people to come into our lives. Be good and always love each other.”

John's eyes slowly closed as he slipped back to sleep. Soon enough, his breathing slowed, and continued to slow, until it stopped. The long, continuous beep brought the doctors and nurses running. The digital clock on the wall read '02:40am 03-05-2020'.

***********

It was a dull, dry day in May when the coffin of John Charles Hillier-Groves was laid to rest on top of the coffin already in the plot.

The service was over, and the mourners were leaving to attend the wake. Maxine leaned her head on her brother's shoulder as they stared at the spot where their father was laid.

“Charlie, would it sound bad if I said I was happy for Dad?”

“What do you mean, Maxie?”

“Well, if you think back to when Pop passed away, he was in the QE too, wasn't he?”

“Yeah.”

“I don't know if you remember, but Pop left us at 2:40 in the morning.”

“Yeah?”

Maxine pointed to the headstone already in place. It was waiting the final inscription. The first inscription read 'Steven Maximilian Hillier-Groves 12 March 1955 to 3 May 2015'.

Charlie wrapped his arm around his sister’s shoulders. “Maxie, that's exactly five years to the minute apart.”

“I know. So you see, while I’m sad for us, I'm happy for Dad. At the exact same time and day of the year of Pop's passing, Dad joined him. Now they are together, again. I know this may sound strange, as Dad and Pop never married, even after it became legal, but do you think, in the future, we could celebrate their lives and call that day their anniversary?”

“Yeah. I think that sounds like a really great idea.”

***********

In The Midlands Car Museum stands a powder blue Ford Anglia 105e with a picnic basket in the boot. If it could talk, it would have countless happy tales to tell. It's still in perfect condition, with all original parts, even the engine. But strangely, no matter how much anyone tries, it will only start on the third of May of each year.