A First Date
On A Windy Day
By
Mario V. Farina
Copyright 2016 Mario V. Farina
All Rights Reserved
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Mario V. Farina
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[email protected] Matthew Grimms studied his image in the mirror as he adjusted his hairpiece. He was only thirty-eight but had begun losing his hair fifteen years earlier. There was plenty of hair along the sides and back but very little on top. The piece had restored light brown hair to his head and ten years of youth to his appearance.
And now, he was in love. He had met Glenda Robinson at Ridgewood College and had been smitten as never before. She was the new secretary in the Humanities Department.
As Assistant Professor of English, Matthew had occasions to see and speak to Glenda several times during the week.
"Ms. Robinson, I need this outline typed before the staff meeting this afternoon. Would you see if you can fit it into your busy schedule?"
She turned her blue eyes toward him in a way that he found most disconcerting. "I'll try, Professor Grimms. Isn't this the same outline that you gave me yesterday – and the day before?"
"Well, as a matter of fact, it is, but you'll note that I've made some changes. I know it's an imposition, but would you mind…?"
"No problem at all, Professor. I'm sure I can get it done."
Matthew walked back to his office. He wasn't making much progress in getting to know Glenda better. A more direct approach was needed.
He knew where Glenda went for lunch. He thought that an accidental meeting at the Busy Bee Cafeteria would help break the ice. At lunchtime the following day, Matthew caught a glimpse of Glenda's trim figure as she put the cover on her typewriter and strode out the door. It was a beautiful sunny day in early September. Matthew decided that lunch at the Busy Bee today would be a good idea.
"Oh, hello Glenda," Matthew ventured, as he carried his tray to the table where she was sitting. "Do you mind if I sit with you?"
"Oh, no, Professor. I'd be glad to have company."
Matthew gazed at Glenda's attractive face and his stomach began tumbling like a clothes dryer. He hoped that his emotions wouldn't betray him. People had frequently told him that he wore his heart on his sleeve – whatever that meant.
They chatted as they dined. During the conversation, Matthew discovered that Glenda was thirty-one and a recent graduate of Smith Business College. She was trained in secretarial work, but hoped that some day she might go back to school to become a physical therapist. He also discovered two facts that were of great interest to him. Brenda was not married and had no boyfriend. Also exciting was the fact that she was interested in sports cars.
"What a coincidence," exclaimed Matthew. "I've been a sports car fan since I was a kid. As a matter of fact, I was planning on picking one up this weekend. Maybe you'd like to take a ride with me after I do this."
The truth wasn't quite that. Matthew was a sports car fan, true, and had been for many years, but he had trouble fitting his tall, lanky frame into one. Though he had admired them from afar, he had never actually yearned to own one. Living in an apartment very close to the college, he didn't feel the need for a car. But, here was his chance to form a closer relationship with the girl of his dreams. He needed to own a sports car now.
Matthew couldn't afford a new car, so he decided to visit Mark's Used Cars on Saturday. There, he spotted a vintage Ford convertible that glistened in black. He walked closer to get a good look. Mark Baldwin, a heavy-set, middle-aged man with dark hair and mustache to match, exited from the sales office on the lot and approached the young man. "I see you're looking at this beautiful roadster," he declared.
Matthew felt that this was the car for him, but he wasn't going to make it easy for the salesman. "Oh, I don't know," he muttered. "Looks a little dated to me, real old. What are you askin'?"
"Twelve hundred," Mark responded. Maybe it's a little much for an old car but people have begun noticing cars like this. This car may be worth something in a few years. But if you're serious, you can probably buy the car for less! I gotta make a sale today or fall behind for the month. I can knock off two hundred but that's only for today!"
"How does she run?"
"Like a charm! Here, take the keys. Take a spin around the block. See if you can keep the girls away!"
Matthew accepted the offer and struggled to get into the car. It was a tight squeeze. He started the engine, but didn't bother with a test ride. "What are your finance terms, and how soon can I take possession?" he asked.
"If you check out you can pick 'er up this afternoon. I'll finance the car for you personally. You'll have to rest of the year to pay."
"Done!" For the first time in his life, Matthew was on the way to becoming the owner of a sports car. Well, it wasn't a Jaguar or an Austin Healey, but it was a convertible, and that qualified as being a sports car, he reasoned.
The afternoon was sunny and warm, but a little windy. Matthew walked to Mark's lot from his apartment and rushed through the mandatory paper-signing formalities. The top was still down. He opened the door and, somehow, squeezed himself into the driver seat. There was barely adequate leg room inside. The trick was getting in!
Matthew put the car into first gear and drove off the lot. Shifting into second and third, he turned down right on to Washington Boulevard. He planned on revving up the Ford to see how it accelerated. He mashed down on the foot pedal and the car leapt forward. Exhilarated, he watched as the speedometer hit twenty, then thirty miles per hour. Everything was going fine so far.
Suddenly, Matthew's hairpiece gave an early warning that it was about to become dislodged. Frantically grasping at it, Matthew caught the hank of hair just as it was about to sail from his head. He kept his hand on it while he made a hasty stop at the side of the road. Then he spent several minutes evaluating the situation.
Matthew had purchased his first hairpiece a long time ago. Over the years he had replaced them as they wore out or became outmoded. No one guessed that he wore artificial hair. The store-bought product had never given him a problem, that is, until today.
"Maybe more tape is what I need," Matthew thought. The tape he used came in strips that were sticky on both sides. Several strips on the inside surface of the hairpiece allowed the hair to stick securely to his head. His hairpieces had never restricted him in anything he wanted to do. He had even swum with them. Today, the turbulence of the air surging through the car was more than the tapes could handle.
Matthew drove home slowly and went into the bathroom. He removed his hairpiece and examined its inner surface. There simply wasn't room for more tape. Matthew had to find another way to keep his hair on. It simply wouldn't do to have the hairpiece fly off his head on his first date with Glenda.
Piloting the sports car to the nearby Grebbs Department Store, Matthew purchased a black-and-red plaid sports cap. He placed it on his head over the hairpiece and turned his vehicle onto the nearest wide street. At twenty, then thirty miles per hour, there's was no difficulty, but when the car hit thirty-five, his cap flew off and the hairpiece kept it company. This time, there had been no warning.
Screeching to a halt, Matthew exited from the car, and walked to where the two items were lying side-by-side not more than a few feet apart. Several children, who had been playing nearby, stared at him with a mixture of amazement and amusement. Matthew i
gnored them as he picked up both items and walked back to his car. Folding himself into the seat, he put the hairpiece and cap into the car's tiny glove compartment and drove off bare-headed.
He went back to the department store and parked. He retrieved the hairpiece from the glove compartment. Ducking as low as he could in the car's cockpit, he positioned the hair on his head and tamped it down. Then he straightened up and adjusted it using the car's small, dash mounted rearview mirror. He then gave it a final tamping.
Inside the store, Matthew purchased a parka. He put it on, loosened the hood and placed it over his head. He eased the car onto the street. His hair stayed in place, but when Matthew began to perspire profusely he realized that this was not a practical solution to the problem.
He tried several other ideas that day and the next but nothing worked. Having found no solution to the flying-hairpiece problem, Matthew dreaded the arrival of Monday. He felt that his romance with Glenda was, not only going to end, but do so ignominiously.
"Did you get your new car over the weekend?" Glenda asked Monday when she saw Matthew.
"Well y-yes, I guess so," he responded.
"You sound a little dubious," she observed. "Don't you know?"
"Well, I did get a nice black Ford roadster, but I didn't drive it much."
"Oh, that's too bad. Why was that? Do you have it with you?"
"Well, y-yes, I guess so."
"You're sounding awfully unsure of yourself, Professor. I'd love to see the car – over lunch and have a ride in it!"
"Are you sure you want to, Glenda. It's a convertible, and it's windy today."
"I love convertibles. The wind won't bother me. Is it a date? My treat!
At noontime, Glenda and Matthew walked to the school's parking lot. When she caught sight of the shiny black vehicle, she squealed with delight. She ran to it and waited patiently for Matthew to catch up.
"Oh, it's such a beautiful car, and it's such a lovely day," Glenda gushed. "Here, let me help you put the top down!"
"Isn't it a bit chilly for you? Don't you think it might rain?" "Nonsense! It's warm. There isn't a cloud in the sky. And the wind isn't bad. Besides, what's a sports car for unless the top is down?"
The top came down and was stowed neatly in the compartment behind the front seats. Then, Matthew opened the passenger's door and helped Glenda enter.
"The way to get into a sports car is this, he proclaimed. You sit in the seat, then swing your legs in."
"I know how to do it," she replied impatiently. "I'm a sports car fan, remember?"
Matthew got behind the wheel, started the engine, and drove off. "Let's get on to Madison Avenue," Glenda urged. "The traffic is lighter there and we can go faster."
"You know, you're not supposed to drive a new car very fast for the first few thousand miles."
"Professor Grimms, this car has over 40,000 miles on it. It was broken in a long, long time ago."
"Yes, but, the police…"
"The speed limit on that road is forty-five. Hurry! I can hardly wait till I feel the wind blowing through my hair. Do you like wind blowing through your hair, Professor?"
"Oh, yes, yes of course I do. Wait a minute." Matthew's stopped the car, exited and opened the trunk. He pulled out his parka and put it on. the hood covering his head.
"Professor Grimms, what are you doing? It's so warm out. You can't get the sports car feel when you're all bundled up that way!"
"I guess you're right, Glenda." Matthew put the coat back into the luggage compartment and reentered the vehicle. He reached into the glove compartment, pulled out the plaid hat and positioned it carefully on his head.
"That's a beautiful cap, Professor," commented Glenda. "The black in it matches the car color perfectly."
Keeping the speed of the car below thirty-five, Matthew made his way to Madison Avenue. There, he began to increase the speed gradually. He placed his hand on top of his cap, pressing it downward.
Glenda laughed. "You look so funny, professor Grams. Are you afraid you're going to lose your cap?"
"Well, it's expensive." Matthew protested. "Does it bother you if I hold onto it?"
"No, not at all." She smiled "When we get back, if you let me have it, I'll see if I can make the headband a little more snug so that you won't have to hold it all the time."
"That's a great idea. Why didn't I think of that?"
"Downshift into second, Professor, I want to hear the sound of the engine as it revs up."
"Downshift into second?"
"Sure, she grinned. "You know, with the shift lever."
"But, I would have to use my right hand. I'm holding onto the cap with that hand. Wait a minute, maybe I can hold it with my left hand, then let go of the steering wheel for a second, then do the shift."
This complex set of actions required Matthew to remove his hand from his head for a second. That's all it took. The hat flew away and took the hairpiece with it. From the rearview mirror, Matthew could see both items landing on the road some hundred feet to the rear.
He slammed on the brakes. Glenda gaped at him in amazement. After he had brought the car to a standstill, Matthew mumbled, "Wait here," and exited from the car. With hands deep in his pockets, he sundered to where the cap and hairpiece were lying.
He was gone about five minutes. When he returned to the car, Glenda was staring at him enraptured.
"Oh Professor Grimms," she observed. "You're not a kid! I thought you were like those young juveniles they have at the college posing as intellectuals. You look so distinguished! Why do you wear that silly thing? The way you look, I find you look very handsome!"
"Y-you like me this way?" Matthew stammered incredulously.
"Oh yes, I do! Would you do me a favor? Wear that thing in class if you want to, but when you're with me, would you keep it off your head? I like you so much better without it." She laughed. "Then, too, when you're driving the car, you won't have to worry about losing your hair any more."
"It's not important to you that I don't have hair on my head?"
"Oh, Professor, it's not what's on a man's head that's important,” she responded. "It's what's inside that counts!"