How to Keep Your Volkswagen Alive by Christopher Boucher Read Free Book Online Page A

must be something you can do,” I said.
    The needle leaned in. “There’s a very controversial nose in California who does writing transplants, but with various outcomes,” he said. “The procedure is possible in theory, but it’s pretty dangerous. Your body might reject the writing you’re given.”
    “It’s worth a try,” I said. “Isn’t it?”
    “Not in my opinion, no. Even if your body accepts it, _____, you’ll have
someone else’s
writing in your veins. Which means that you’ll sign your name differently, that you’ll have different stylistic tendencies. Andremember how much the removal hurt? That was a bee sting compared to what they’ll do to your vessels and veins in order to inject foreign writing into your blood.”
    The procedure took fifteen hours to complete, but I was unconscious for two days and heavily sedated for the following two. When I finally woke up I felt worse than ever before. I couldn’t move my arms or legs. My head felt like someone was smashing hammers against the inside of my skull.
    The next day I was able to sit up, to read a little. The Memory of My Father flickered into my room in the morning, and the Two Sides of My Mother brought me jell-o and iced tea.
    That afternoon, the needle came by. He sat down and smiled dryly at me. “All the diagnostics look fine so far, which is very good news. How do you feel?”
    “Sad,” I told him.

III. TOOLS AND SPARE PARTS
BENEATH THE UNDERDOG
    That spring, Colorado stole my brother. I came home to Longmeadow (a forgotten, out-of-circulation coin), and my parents told me the news. I walked in the doorway and they were just standing there.
    “Colorado wants Bryan,” the Other Side of My Mother said.
    “They’re in
love
,” One Side of My Mother said.
    “Wait a minute,” I said. “The
state
of Colorado?”
    The Memory of My Father, who was sitting by the window, nodded. Through the glass I could see a pack of deer on the lawn, whispering among themselves.
Colorado
? one deer mouthed, and another nodded.
    The four of us ate pizza together, and then I drove back home through the fog, thinking about it. I was distracted by the VW, though, who was acting up and asking to go to the strip club. “I’m in the
mood
,” he whined.
    “I’m in the middle of dealing with something serious right now—a very big change in my brother’s life,” I told the VW. “We’re just going to have to go another time, alright?”
    The fog was something. Speeding through it was like being on the tip of a knife that was slicing through the body of a ghost.
    “Please, Dad,” the VW said. “Please? Please!”
    “There are other stories here about the Castaway, VW. Tonight the story is, my brother’s been stolen by Colorado,” I told him.
    “Colorado? No way I’m going out there,” the VW said. “I’d get halfway, break down again, and you’d start to yell at me rabbinical.”
    I tapped the dashboard. “You didn’t use that word right,” I said.
    “Which word?”
    “Rabbinical. It’s a religious term.”
    “I’m listening, like you said to,” the VW whined.
    “But the word has to come from your engineheart,” I said. “You can’t use it just because it saves minutes.”
    “Will you stop picking on me?” the VW said. “You know what I meant.”
    “You’re not helping things, OK?” I said.
    When we got back to Northampton I was angry. I picked up the phone and called Colorado.
    “What,” it said into the phone.
    “I heard what you’re doing,” I said. “And I don’t like one bit of it.”
    “I don’t think I give a fuck,” Colorado said.
    I said, “Do you love him?”
    I could hear his smile. “He’s a very nice young man.”
    “Why are you doing this? Are you in cahoots?”
    “Cahoots?”
    “It’s a
word
, alright?”
    Colorado sighed. “You’re wasting my time.”
    “You touch a hair on his head,” I told him, “I’ll burn you down inch by inch.”
    “It’s a big world, partner.”
    “You take