TD Moffett headed down the snowy road. It a Friday in late November, the snow not entirely unexpected, covers the road. The Wipers slapped at the accumulated snow on his wind shield. The crack in the glass vibrated with every slap of the the wiper on the mini titanic iceberg that had formed on the left side of his wind shield. The heater rattled away providing warmth to his feet and kept the snow on his wind shield at an acceptable level.
The Roads were empty for this time of night. Most People had been given fair warning the storm was coming and had left work early. No old TD, no he had to stay to make sure the proposal for tomorrows meeting had been finished, checked for errors and rechecked. He knew how much his boss Mr. McDonald hated errors and inaccuracies. The Tires on his MD 320 spun in the snow. The tire sales men at McD Motors had promised the tires were the best and had been personally endorsed by Jay Gold McDonald's father himself. He had called them 'Golden'. If the father of Jay Gold had endorsed them they had to be good. The Tires spun again and the car slid side ways going up the hill to his house. The fact that the tires were the most expensive in the store hadn't mattered to TD. Jay Gold McDonald's father said a little more spent on safety is golden.
After cresting the hill, a the long flat stretch of road went toward Golden Estates number 27. The last right before them was his neighborhood. TD had been lucky enough to be given the opportunity to buy a plot of land just outside the estate. It was a prestigious address lot 3 on road 26, OUTSIDE GOLDEN ESTATES 27!! He'd felt lucky that day, about as lucky as the day his wife agreed to marry him and almost as lucky as the day he got his job at Golden Enterprises shop 1128.
The Car slid again, this time the rear passengers tire bumped the high curb causing the tire to blow out. TD didn't feel so lucky now. The Car limped to a stop on the empty snow covered road. Not a care in sight. He unclasped his seat belt and opened the door of his MD 320. It creaked and dropped an inch as it extended it's full distance. TD thought, "Should it be creaking like that?" The head Mechanic at McD Motors said to put a little oil on the hinges, but he should only use Golden Flow Oil sold exclusively at McD Motors.
Snow fell down his collar as he opened the hatch back of his car. The pull up for the spare was hidden under a flap of carpet. Next to it was a note not to use excessive force on the spare tire pull up. TD gently tugged on it until the gentle click of the latch signaled the lid was free. He removed the spare after unbolting the jack on top of it and went about replacing the tire. The top button on his Jay coat slipped its loop and TD felt the cold air and snow rush in. He knelled in the snow to begin to replace his new tire.About twenty minutes later the job was finished. He dropped the flat tire into the wheel well, but for some reason the tire wouldn't fit into the well. It was too big. When He dropped the car off the jack he noticed the replacement tire made the rear of the car look low by several inches. He would ask the Tire salesman about that when he saw him in the morning. TD closed the lid to the tire well as best as possible and was about to slam the hatch back when out of the corner of his eye he saw a large grey shadow off in the woods of lot 67 on road 345. It looked like a garbage bin. A large grey garbage bin was nothing special but even in the dark TD could tell that it was a quality bin made from the finest Asian plastics and only available to a select few. TD stepped into the snow. It had gotten deeper in the last twenty minutes he had been changing the tire. His black loafers crunched through the top layer and sunk about four inches into the snow. His feet immediately felt wet and the icy cold. His prize lay up a slight hill, He approaches the bin like a jewel thief afraid he will be arrested before he reaches his reward. He firmly grasps the thick plastic handles and shakes it to remove the snow. The label on it says 'Golden'. He thinks, yes it is. He shakes it a second time to remove the rest of the snow and to make sure it is for real. He inspects his catch like a big game hunter admiring a prize trophy. It has two little cracks in the side walls but is perfect. He slips twice returning to his car. It doesn't matter he has his treasure. With a little effort and and rearranging the tire in the wheel well several times TD manages to get the garbage bin into his car and the hatch closed. When He pulls into the rock and mud driveway he is shivering. His pants are wet and the top button of his Jay coat won't stay closed. He leaves his treasure in the back of his car and trudges on his unshoveled walkway into his backyard and up his unshoveled stairs. He knows it would be smart to clear them now, but his recent high has left him and the long week at work has finally caught up to him. The door opens and he is hit by a wave of warm air scented with hints of spices used in other meals from an other time. It makes him smile. He calls out to his wife, Lois and when there is no reply he remembers, she is not here. TD heads to the basement bathroom to strip off his wet suit and put on something dry. The cold air of the basement reminds him of the project he started last spring to insulate the basement and never finished. The Bathroom is just as cold as the rest of the basement. TD turns on the light and the space heater. The fan in the metal box rattles a little as it's heat spreads and slowly fills the small room with warmth. The Bathroom is small and was built as a spare. TD does most of his business down her with three teenage daughters and a wife constantly in the upstairs bathroom. He drops his pant on the floor and immediately feels the heat flow up the back of his legs. It feels good, it comforts him. A quick shower and into warm sweats, a t-shirt and an old sweater to keep the chill of the drafty old house away and TD is set for dinner. His plate is set not at the table in the dinning room, but in the now quiet family room, on a side table next to his favorite blue recliner. The Girls are all upstairs. One daughter should be asleep, while the other two are talking to their boyfriends over Videophones.
TD leans back in his recliner and takes his tray of food to his lap. A tall glass of beer is on the side table and he gently tips the glass to his lips. It is frosty and cold, sending a chill through his body reminding him once again of the cold outside. The Beer is rich, sweet and dark with a slight bitter after taste. He clicks on the AllView, sets it to bystander mode and relaxes in his chair. The AllView fills the room. It's the first inning of the 1960 World Series, game one. He's sitting behind the third base dug out. The day is warm, but he's tired. He lifts his glass of beer and this time takes a large gulp. The Alcohol shoots through his body. His Stomach growls once as his unconcious tells his eyes to close and TD is asleep just a moment after his glass comes to rest on the coaster on the side table.
A few hours later TD is jarred wake by a blaring, Whaa, Whaa, Whaa sound. For a moment he thinks its the alarm system going off, but he didn't set it when he came in. His Eyes begin to focus and he realizes the AllView is stuck. It was on bystander mode, so he would not have to be involved in any of the events around him. Somehow it jumped from the ball game to a street in Manhattan next to Central Park at rush hour and the sound he hears is the AllView glitching. Cars and trucks coming down the street, their horns blaring at him, they suddenly jumping back half a mile to come back down and do it again. TD yells over the sound to end program, upsetting the tray on his lap, slightly spilling the cold unappetizing food off it's plate onto the tray. His glass of beer, now at room temperature, the condensation pooling up around the bottom of the glass has over flowed the coaster. TD thinks his wife would not be pleased if she could see that. He's tell her at least I used a coaster. She would of said I had no business eating in the living room. All these thoughts give him a pang of sadness and a wish he could of spent one more evening with her,instead of at the office.
He pushes down the recliner and brings his plate to the garbage can, He opens the can and is about to tip the food into it when he remembers it is garbage night and he needs to take it out to the curb, but the can is empty, just tonights food and some take out from the other night. When Elizabeth was around she would make the time to cook, even after her long days at work. She called it her therapy. Near the end she was cooking all these amazing dishes, at least that's what his daughter, Virginia would tell him when he came in to kiss her good night after he'd gotten home to late to eat with them. It seemed a world ago, Now it was long hours at work and take out.
The Stairs creek one by one as he ascends them. Each one telling him of a chore he had promised to do for his wife. Insulate the wall in your daughters bedroom, fix the outlet in the front room, patch the hole in the ceiling in the dining room. The List is as long as the stairs. All of these projects were the reason they had bought the house. The Joy of rescuing the past and preserving it. Then Elizabeth had lost her job and then he had lost his. A new Job with more hours and Elizabeth getting sick and him at work and ended with this. He peaks in each of the girls rooms. At this hour they are all asleep.
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