Version 1.1.

______           ______     After Hours: A LUV Connection      ______           ______

    January 1983.

    pPTutt, pPTutt, pPTutt, pPTutt, pRROOM pPTutt, pPTutt, pPTutt, pPTutt,...

    I stepped onto my propane-powered Clarke forklift’s parking brake pedal CCCRRIINNKK. Then reached downward for its ignition key. pPTutt, pPTutt, pptuttutt... BANG!

    My work for the day is done as I parked in its designated parking spot, the sputter fading into a localized welcome silence that seemed to swallow the warehouse whole. It had been another long shift, one of the many I had spent in the cavernous expanse of our Massachusetts complex, surrounded by towering shelves adorned with goods that ranged from mundane to monumental.

    I stretched my arms overhead, feeling the familiar rush of muscle relief, and made my way to my locker to grab my handbag, and wearing my winter coat over my familiar corporate jumpsuit of navy blue. Not being behind the wheel of the company forklift allowed me to remove my long, curly, red hair from its ponytail restraint. And my steel-toed boots were ready to trudge through the warehouse’s plowed-yet-snowy parking lot to my modest, trusty '70 Volvo station wagon I deemed ‘Agnetha’ with the hum of distant machinery still ringing in my ears. It had seen better days, but it was reliable—a beacon of familiarity in a world that was often unpredictable.

    My long, curly red hair, usually escaping its ponytail in rebellious strands, was plastered to my cheeks by the wind, and my navy blue company jumpsuit offered little protection against the frigid Massachusetts air. I was used to the cold inside the warehouse, but out here with the windchill, it was a different beast altogether.

    My thinly gloved hands had unlocked the Volvo’s driver’s side doors and placed my handbag onto the rear bench seat. Ignition key with shamrock fob placed and ready to begin the twenty-minute drive back to my lonely apartment, I jiggled the Volvo’s gear shifter out of old habit, slowly pulled out the choke knob, then reached for the key.

    Chuggaaa. CHUGGA-CHUGG. CHUGGA-CHUGG...

    (TAP) (TAP) (TAP)

______     2     ______

    My right hand released the key mid-starting, and I cranked down the side window, knowing that the difference in temperature would be nil. I turned to see a woman (I'm guessing around my age) standing outside, her long black hair cascading over a worn winter jacket. She was looking more miserable than a leprechaun who’d lost his pot of gold. I hesitated for a moment, trying to place her, and then realized she must work in the dispatch office. I might had seen her passing through the warehouse once or twice, but we had never properly met.

    “Hi! I’m sorry to bother you,” she called through the door. Her voice, bright and layered with a soft accent, caught my attention instantly. “I don’t believe we’ve met, I’m Calista Alcantara, from dispatch. But everyone calls me Callie.”

    “Jill,” I replied, offering a gloved right hand through the opened side window. "Jill O'Shaughnessy. Forklift operator extraordinaire. Pleasure to meet you, Callie. You all set?”

    “No. my truck won’t start, and I was hoping you could help me jump start it? And, I don’t have any cables with me. My fault...” Callie said dejecting-ly. Most office workers don't really think about jumper cables. And my Volvo, bless its Swedish heart, had a battery that could power a small city.

    ...And, she did say her truck, right? Hmmm...

    “But of course I’ll help!” I replied, excitement bubbling beneath my calm exterior. “I’ve got some cables in the back. Let’s take a look. Where is it?”

    “I have a light blue Chevy Luv truck, parked just over there.”

    “Yes, I’ve seen it before. Hop in, Aggie, um, sorry, Callie. No need to be in the cold more than you need to.” I waved her in and grinned, hoping to lighten the mood. It’s hard to stay glum when you’re Irish, even in the face of a dead battery.

    Callie managed a weak smile in return.

______     3     ______

    I reached over across the aisle and my Volvo’s gear shift to raise the lock plunger for the passenger door. Not an everyday task. Callie walked around the bow of my Volvo as I reached for the ignition key again to wake up Aggie.

    Chuggaaa. CHUGGA-CHUGG, CHUGGA-CHUGG, CHUGGA-CHUGG. My Volvo returns a normal Massachusetts winter reaction, and I reached for the ignition key again and hoping to not have TWO dead cars on my hands while Callie opened the door and climbed into my Volvo’s passenger seat, while setting her purse on the floor. I was beginning to tremble inside as much as Aggie’s gear shift was swinging between us.

    Chuggaaa. CHUGGA-CHUGG. CHUGGA-CHUGG. CHUGGA-CHUGG. PutTaPUTTaPUTTa.VROOM! Pitt,pitt,pitt,pitt. Pitt,pitt,pitt,pitt. Pitt,pitt,pitt,pitt. Pitt,pitt,pitt,pitt. WHEW! The choke knob goes back in.

    “Jill, thank you once again,” Callie told me. “But, sorry, who’s Aggie?”

    “Uh, yeah, my Volvo. Short for Agnetha. Being Swedi...”

    “Yeah, yeah, I get it, I get it,” she returned with a grin and interrupting my sentence. But she got it. Pitt,pitt,pitt,pitt. Pitt,pitt,pitt,pitt... “Still, this is a very cool car you have here, Jill....”

    "Why, thank you, Callie..."

    My steel-toe left boot sent down the springy clutch pedal, and I lowered the parking brake lever to my left side and moved the Volvo’s gear shift over to reverse. VROOM! VROOM! Then I drove slowly down the aisle of parking spaces. PITT,PITT,PITT,PITT. Working at an around-the-clock complex like ours it takes an event like Nollaig Shona or (yet another) championship parade to have a cleared-out parking lot.

    “There it is, Jill,” Callie said as I noticed that another vehicle is parked directly in front of Callie’s little light blue truck. I’d call it an unmanly baby blue if anything. And that rules out parking our cars face to face... There was a Chevrolet bowtie on the front grill, and a pair of white fuzzy dice hanging from the rear view mirror. But there are parking spaces open besides it. WHEW!

    “I’ll drive back ‘round and park next to your truck, Callie. The cables should reach hopefully.” PITT,PITT,PITT,PITT, pitt,pitt,pitt,pitt....

    “You have the cables, Jill, whatever you say, haha” Callie responded with a giggle.

______     4     ______

    I knew that the battery that lied beneath Aggie’s ‘bonnet’ was closer to my side, the driver’s side compared to the passenger one, so I guided the Volvo so my driver’s seat was along the edge of the presumably bench seat that Callie’s truck probably has. Pitt,pitt,pitt,pitt. I move the gear shift back to neutral and confirm that fact with a couple of jiggles.

    “Don’t want to launch my car, Callie,” I said as I yanked up the parking brake lever with a CCCRRIICCKK...

    “Into Harvard Yard, Jill, haha?” with another giggle. pitt,pitt,pitt,pitt, pitt,pitt,pitt,pitt...

    I reached for my Volvo’s ignition key and turned the engine off. Pittpitpitpit. “Cute. You must not be from Mass...” as I remove the key, needing to unlock the back to grab the cables.

    “Grew up in Portugal, actually, moved here not long ago,” she replied.

    Intriguing... “Sorry, I’m nearly just a so-they-say Townie,” I replied. “Let’s get this show, and your truck on the road, Callie!” I exclaimed as I reached under the Volvo’s dashboard to release the hood, and swung open my side door, peering into Callie’s truck. It’s a manual too. If it wasn’t winter, we might have tried to push started it... The bench seat was covered in a lavish blanket that must have been from Portugal as well.

    As we stepped out of my Volvo station wagon, the cold nipped at my exposed skin, making me acutely aware of my navy blue jumpsuit. In good company, though, I felt warmer already. While raising the Volvo’s hood, Callie’s boots crunched against the plowed parking lot as she made her way around the back of my Volvo and swung open her driver’s side door. Without sitting down, she reached beneath and pulled its hood release, then stuck the truck’s key into the ignition mounted below the dash. Callie pulled a knob out from the visible side of the dashboard. "See, Jill, I didn't even leave the lights on," as she pushed and pulled and pushed the knob again. Then she came back out to raise her truck’s hood.

    I pulled out the thick cables, their red and black clamps gleaming dully in the pale sunlight. The plastic coating was starting to crack in spots from the cold, but they were still good. I handed one end to Callie.

    "Alright, Callie, you know the drill?" I asked.

    She kinda sorta nodded, I suspected she might be bluffing. "Umm, red to positive, uhh, black to negative, something like that, Jill?" Her voice held a hint of uncertainty. She smiled gratefully, her brown eyes sparkling with a blend of frustration and humor.

    "Almost," I confirmed. "Red to the positive terminals on both batteries. Then, black to the negative on mine, and the other black to a good ground on your truck. A bare metal part of the engine will do nicely. Just be sure you don't ever hook the black cable to the negative terminal on the dead battery. That would create a spark and could damage the electrics." I’d learned the ropes of mechanics from my older brothers, who seemed to have a natural affinity for fixing anything that broke.

______     5     ______

    We worked in silence, the cold seeping into my gloves. Callie’s hands were bare, and I saw her shiver slightly as she clamped the cables onto her truck’s innards, and I replaced the key to my Volvo.

    “All set,” I announced as I unfurled the cables, making quick work of attaching them. “You all set?”

    Callie nodded and slid into her truck’s driver’s seat, her posture tense yet hopeful. She reached across the bench seat to roll down the window and she did the gear shift jiggle just as I had.

    “Here we go, mine first,” I replied. I turned away from facing Callie seating in her truck and leaned inside my Volvo, showing Callie the posterior of my company issue jumpsuit and probably the outline of the day’s undies of my choosing earlier this morning. Using my free hand to grasp the steering wheel to support myself, I blindly turned my Volvo’s ignition key and sent the engine’s rocking. Chuggaaa. CHUGGA-CHUGG. CHUGGA-CHUGG. CHUGGA-CHUGG. PutTaPUTTa.VROOM! Pitt,pitt,pitt,pitt. Pitt,pitt,pitt,pitt. Then I turned back to see Callie in her truck.

    “Alright,” I shouted over the hum of my vehicle. “Fingers crossed. Give her a crank.” With my heart racing in tandem with my Volvo’s engine, I glanced at Callie leaning forward. Pitt,pitt,pitt,pitt. Pitt,pitt,pitt,pitt...

    Callie reached downwards for her truck’s ignition key. The engine’s starter sounded more Japanese than American to me, and made long groans no matter what was the origin. Tttrrrrrrrrrrrr, rrrrrrrrrrrrrr, rrrrrrrrrrrrr. And then… nothing. The silence was deafening, broken only by the New England winter’s wind. As if the universe decided to throw a wrench in our newfound kinship, this is happening. I watched Callie’s face scrunch up in confusion. A lump formed in my throat.

    I frowned inside. "Try again." Pitt,pitt,pitt,pitt. Pitt,pitt,pitt,pitt...

    She reached downwards for the ignition key again. "Come on honey," was spoken by Callie. Tttrrrrrrrrrrrrr, rrrrrrrrrrrrrr, rrrrrrrrrrrrrr. Again, no start.

    "Damn," she said, slamming her fist lightly on the dashboard. “This heap is just falling apart, Jill. “Nothing,” as her brows creased in disappointment. “The battery must be totally dead.” Another downward reach for her truck's ignition key. "Come on," Tttrrrrrrrrrrrrr, rrrrrrrrrrrrrr, rrrrrrrrrr, rrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr, rrrrrrrrrrrrrr. Still nothing.

    I knew that feeling. My Volvo wasn't exactly showroom material either. "Hold on a tick," I said, fiddling with the cables. "Your battery ain’t taking much of a charge. Let's give it a bit more of a jolt. Sometimes these things just need a little encouragement."Pitt,pitt,pitt,pitt. Pitt,pitt,pitt,pitt...

    I stepped my booted foot onto the accelerator and revved my Volvo’s engine a few times, hopefully sending a surge of power through the cables.VROOOOM! VROOOOOM! VROOOOM! VROOOOOM!  "Alright, try it now!" I yelled over the engine’s chattering. Pitt,pitt,pitt,pitt. Pitt,pitt,pitt,pitt...

    Callie reached down and turned the truck’s ignition key once more, and this time, after a few agonizing seconds... Trrrtrrrrrrrrr, rrrrrrrrrr, rrrrrrrrrr, rrrrrRRRRR, RRRRRRRR, the Luv sputtered to life. TrrrRROOM! PPTIK, PPTIK. The engine coughed and wheezed, but it was running. PpTik, PpTik, PpTik, PpTik,

    "Yes!" Callie exclaimed, a huge grin spreading across her face. "Oh, you're such a lifesaver, Jill! Thank you so much!"

    “No worries,” I said, switching off my Volvo and beginning to disconnect the cables. "Glad I could help, Callie." PpTik, PpTik, PpTik, PpTik,

______     6     ______

    Callie nodded, and hopped out with her eyes fixed on the running engine. After a couple of minutes, she turned to me, a worried expression on her face. “But, the thing is…” she hesitated, chewing on her lip. “I probably shouldn’t shut it off, should I?" PpTik, PpTik, PpTik, PpTik...

    I raised an eyebrow. “Well, probably not, no. Or stall it on an icy patch of road. I don't think your truck's alternator is going to be much help charging this battery... So, how old is the battery, anyway?  The cold is more harsher on older ones....” PpTik, PpTik, PpTik, PpTik...

    “No idea,” she admitted with a sigh. “Never changed it. I’ve been meaning to replace it, but… you know, life gets in the way.”

    “Tell me about it,” I chuckled. “Look, I can give you a ride to an auto parts place. You can pick up a brand new battery and... then we'll come back and install it here." Instead of me just driving back to my lonely apartment now... PpTik, PpTik, PpTik, PpTik...

    Callie’s face lit up. “Really? Would you do that for me? That would be so amazing, Jill. I would really, really appreciate it.”

    “Sure,” I said, offering her a smile. "Consider it good karma. Plus, I could use the company. Warehouse work can get a bit lonely, you know. Forklifts don’t chat up very well. Let’s go."

    Callie reached for her truck’s ignition key, and shut the engine off. PpTik, pptik, pptik, tik, tik... Them threw them back into her purse, and rolled back up the window. I disconnected my jumper cables, and I put them away in the back of my Volvo station wagon, then lowered the rear lid, not locking as my keys were still up front. I waved Callie to Aggie’s passenger seat, which she happily opened the door and sat down.

    I sat back down in my Volvo’s driver’s seat with a rare welcome passenger across, and put on my seat belt for this first time this afternoon. As I turned the key to fire up the engine again, Callie’s eyes lit up, and I couldn’t help but smile at the spark of camaraderie that formed in that small winter moment. Chugg. CHUGGA-CHUGG. CHUGGA-CHUGG. CHUGGA-CHUGG. PutTaPUTTa.VROOM! Pitt,pitt,pitt,pitt. Pitt,pitt,pitt,pitt. After leaving the parking lot I pulled out onto the icy roads, the Volvo’s tires struggling for traction.

    I slid the levers to let the heater begin into blasting warm air into the small space. On our way over to the auto parts store, we chatted away. About her soul-crushing monotony of trucking forms, my soul-crushing monotony of my forklift, the questionable quality of the coffee in our company’s break rooms, and our shared love of old movies on Betamax videotapes. I learned of how she grew up in Portugal, working summers in her family's bakery. I told her I inherited my Volvo from my father, a stubborn Irishman who swore it was the best car ever made. And her truck was a gift from her uncle.

    The auto parts store was the kind of place where the air hung thick with the smell of oil and rubber. A stout man with a perpetual frown and grease-stained overalls, greeted us from behind the counter.“Afternoon,” he said, his gaze softening slightly when he saw us. “What can I do for you?”

    “Afternoon, sir. This is Callie. She needs a new battery for her pickup truck.”

    “1977 Chevrolet LUV,” Callie responded. Watching Callie with intent and determination, I couldn’t shake the feeling that I had stumbled upon a kindred spirit.

    He disappeared into the back for a few minutes.But, he returned, pushing a heavy-duty battery onto the counter. “This’ll do the trick. Built to withstand the cold, perfect for a New England winter.”

    Callie paid for the battery, wincing slightly at the price. I knew the feeling. Car repairs always seemed to hit you at the worst possible time. The ride back with new battery behind my seat was filled with more conversation, a comfortable back-and-forth that surprised me. I hadn’t felt this easy around someone new in a long time.

______     7     ______

    Back at our parking lot, as the sun was descending the wind seemed to have picked up. Snow flurries danced in the air, making the already bleak landscape even more desolate.

    “Right then,” I said, reaching under and popping the hood of Callie’s little baby blue pickup once more. "Let's show this old battery who's boss."

    The old battery was grimy and corroded, the terminals caked with a green fuzz. I showed Callie how to loosen the clamps, careful to avoid touching the acid. Together, we worked together and wrestled the heavy battery out of its tray and into a provided cardboard box set on the truck’s floor mats.

    “Mind you, they can explode,” I warned Callie. “Treat ‘em carefully.”

    Installing the new battery was much easier as Callie and I were working in close quarters. We secured the clamps, making sure they were tight.

    “Alright,” I said, stepping back. “Cross your fingers and give it a go, Callie.”

    Callie, standing on the plowed parking lot, reached inside her truck’s cab and turned the ignition key. TTRRRRRR, RRRRR, RRRRR, RRRRR, RRRRR, RRRRR... VRROOMM! The engine roared to life, with the starter sounding stronger and healthier than before. PpTik, PpTik, PpTik, PpTik.

    “Yes!” she cheered, clapping her hands. “You’re the best, Jill! I seriously don’t know what I would have done without you. You've done so much for me today...”

    “I’m just glad to help,” I said, a genuine warmth spreading throughout me. "It's the Irish way." PpTik, PpTik, PpTik, PpTik.

    Callie turned off the truck's engine... PpTik, pptik, pptik, tik, tik... and I lowered back down the hood. “I really owe you one,” she said, her eyes sincere. “Jill, how about I buy you dinner sometime? Drinks? Just us. My treat.”

    I hesitated for a moment, surprised by the offer. I hadn't had a real date in... well, a long time. “I sure, sure, would like that,” I said, smiling to her. "Yes, I'm up for it."

    "Jill... the gals in the dispatch office keep wanting to set me up with the guys in the warehouse...," she said with a change of tone. "BUT, I don't want to with be with one of the guys in the warehouse...." She then paused, her gloved hands then gently grasped mine, and in a lower tone said, "I don't want to be with the guy at all." Then Callie released her gentle grasp on my hands, and grinned. "And when you turned around to turn over your Volvo, I thought you had a very nice butt..."

    Callie thought I had a very nice butt, eh?

    And I grinned back. I nervously quipped to her, "Callie, I've heard of a great little pub in Cambridge. They make a mean shepherd's pie. Might be my treat." And my gloved hand gave her a couple of gently pats on her winter-coat shoulder. "For that next time..."

    Callie responded in the same lowered tone. “Sure. Sounds perfect," then whispering, Or wicked awesome...” Callie's smile mirrored mine.  She removed some paper from her purse, and wrote down her phone number, handing it to me. “Call me. Or stop by the dispatch office sometime, Jill.”

    And I told her my phone number and she wrote it down. “Or stop in the warehouse. I could give you a quick forklift lesson, Callie...”

    “Jill, You know the bosses would keep that from happening, haha.”

    “Yes, of course I do...." I paused. "But the us -- they can't keep that from not happening, Callie...."

    "Oh, no, they sure can't, Jill..." She smiles the biggest smile of the evening.

    "Have a good night, Callie. And Oíche mhaith... ”

    “And, you too, Jill. Good night. And Boa noite.” And I received a light peck from Callie on my rosy red cheek.

    Callie opened the door to her truck with a creak, climbed in, and closed the door with a polite wave. TTRRRRRR, RRRRR, RRRRR, RRRRR... VRROOMM!

    As I watched Callie drive away with the headlights of her baby blue Chevy Luv truck cutting through the swirling snow flurries, I felt a lightness I hadn't experienced in ages.

    I tapped the steering wheel to my Volvo station wagon. “Let’s go home, Aggie,” I whispered.  

    Chuggaaa. CHUGGA-CHUGG. CHUGGA-CHUGG. CHUGGA-CHUGG. PutTaPUTTa.VROOM! Pitt,pitt,pitt,pitt. Pitt,pitt,pitt,pitt...

    Maybe, just maybe, a dead battery and a chance encounter in a wintery parking lot was exactly what I needed to jumpstart my own life. Amidst the steel-toed boots, company jumpsuits, and winter layers, I had discovered a spark of warmth—one I wouldn’t trade for any battery pack in the world. Whew!

--- Ms. Jill Maeve O'Shaughnessy

Author's Note. This is a work of fiction. And alas, using AI. I made up the characters on my own accord. I put the "usual"  paragraph plot of this story that I "usually" write beforehand through an AI writer a few times, and a HUMAN (me) picked out the best parts and assembled them, or I was paraphrasing once in a while. Yes, some me but so much AI that it warrants this story be filed under "The Charging Station." And I added more parts such as the cranking sounds or additional dialogue. Thanks once again to www.perchance.org for generating the character pictures.