be home by ten

i crawl under the old chevy
to turn
a screw to let the hot black
oil
drip into the pan.
it's 1978 and i'm trying to
save a buck or two.
i pour in the 4 quarts
of quaker state
after twisting off the filter
and replacing it
with one that's new.
i adjust the points with
a match book cover,
screw in some new spark
plugs.
i wash the car next.
rub a coat of turtle wax
into it's dark blue skin.
it's Saturday morning
and I've got a date at 8.
plenty of time to put
air into the tires,
get a haircut and go to
the bank.
when i pull in front of her
house to pick her up,
her father will look out
the window at the rumbling
car, clean as a whistle,
and shake his head.
he can probably smell my
after shave from where he
sits. he'll
be worried, as he should be,
and will tell his daughter
to be home by ten.
midnight, dad,
midnight she says.