STOCKING THE FARM     

    The golden heat of a 1957 summer evening hangs heavily over the station as I step off the train from Paris. My cousin, Simone Pelletier, greets me with a wide smile and sophisticated air. 

    "You’ve grown so city-chic, Yvette," she laughs, lightly pulling the end of my high ponytail. "But isn't that style a bit... breezy for the countryside?"

    I touch the ribbon holding my hair back. "It’s practical for the heat. Unlike those," I gesture to her head, where two thick, golden braids are pinned in a crown. "Doesn't that take hours?"

    "Structure is everything, darling," she winks.

    The next morning, the air is sweet with hay and lavender. Simone introduces me to Liliane, the estate’s aide à domicile.

    Liliane is bright-eyed and with a boisterous red dotted skirt on that seems to be dressed for more than just working... perhaps Monsieur-pursuing. Simone tells me that today we will be joining Liliane on her weekly trip into the village for supplies. Soon after, Liliane leads Simone and me outside to a rusty red sedan, marked Arvel Type 2 on the rear, parked front first towards a barn. It looks like a tin loaf of bread on wheels.

    "Yvette, my ‘48 Arvel may not be much, but she’s a voiture, mademoiselle... Would you like to sit on her front seat?" Liliane asks. "The guest of honor must have the best view. I keep her unlocked here..."

    "I... well, sure, I’m rarely in automobiles at all, Liliane," I admit, feeling a flush of nerves. In Paris, I’m usually traveling by other means... my bicycle, trains, the Metro, and so on. But wait, she? Her?

    Simone opens one of the rear doors  and slides onto the back seat, pulling the Arvel’s metal door shut with a tinny CLACK. "Go on, Eve. I’ve been up there many a time. Enjoy the luxury!"

    I open the front side door and climb onto the front bench seat. It’s smells of old fabric. From here, I will have a clear view of Liliane’s movements. As she settles in, I notice even more the crisp hemline of her red dotted skirt and the way her legs, encased in shimmering nylon stockings, disappear into her sensible brown leather shoes.

    Between us, a metal lever topped with a black knob sprouts from the center of the dashboard like a crooked finger, embossed with R-1-2-3 in an H-pattern.. 

        "Excuse me," Liliane says softly. She leans across my personal space, her shoulder nearly brushing mine as she reaches for the lever and shakes it.

        Then, her  hand aims the key into a tiny slot beside the lever. CaCHINK. She twists it to the right with a sharp CLICK. Followed by her pulling outward a knob on the dashboard.

        The car is silent. Liliane shifts her weight, lifting her body slightly off the seat to gain leverage. She reaches her right foot deep into the floor well, hunting for the starter pedal.

        SQUEAK-CLUNK..

        The engine groans. TTRRrrrrrrrrrrrr... 

        RRRrrrrrrrrrrrr...

        RRRrrrrrrrrrrrr...

        It’s a weak, rhythmic strain, like a tired animal trying to be woken up. The Arvel and its lever are shaking in time.

        RRRrrrrrrrrrrrr...

        Liliane appears to grit her teeth, keeping her toe on the starter while sliding her heel over to the accelerator.

        RRRrrrrrrrrrrrr..

        RRrrrrrrrrrrrr...

    "Is everything alright?" I ask, clutching the door handle.

    "Everything’s fine, Eve," Simone calls from the back. "She’s just temperamental in the morning, that’s all!"

    RRRrrrrrrrrrrrr... 

    “And, she’s only got 2 cylinders and 6 volts, too,” Liliane adds.

    Liliane releases the pedal with a sigh. SQUEAK. She takes to the knob that she pulled out before and returns it to being inward, then pulled out again. She then tries starting the engine again, arcing her body and moving her foot back onto the starter pedal. SQUEAK-CLUNK.

    TTRRrrrrrrrrrrrr...

    RRRrrrrrrrrrrrr...

    RRRrrrrrrrrrrrr... ptwh...

    A puff of blue smoke drifts past the window.

    RRRrrrrrrrrrrrr...

    RRRrrrrrrrrrrrr...

    SQUEAK. Liliane releases the starter pedal, and under her breath says “Come on, hun, catch...” She repositions her body again. SQUEAK-CLUNK.

    TTRRrrrrrrrrrrrr...

    RRRrrrrrrrrrrrr...

    RRRrrrrrrrrrrrr....ptwh..

    RRRrrrrrrrrrrrr....ptwh...

    On the third attempt, she moves her heel and pumps the accelerator vigorously... ptwh.. Crick, crick, crick... and suddenly the engine catches with a frantic, industrialized sewing-machine chatter like a four-seater moped. SQUEAK. PTWH-TWH-TWH-TWH-TWH. The whole car vibrates continuously, making my teeth rattle. TWH-TWH-TWH-TWH.

    "There we go," Liliane says triumphantly (and loudly) as her feet return from their extension onto the pedals. TWH-TWH-TWH-TWH. She takes the withdrawn knob and returns it to the dashboard. TWH-TWH-TWH-TWH. TWH-TWH-TWH-TWH. TWH-TWH-TWH-TWH.    

    She presses the clutch pedal to the floor ScuQUEAK and reaches for the dashboard lever.

    She grasps the knob and sends the lever towards her and up with a satisfying metallic THUNK. TWH-TWH-TWH-TWH. Liliane maneuvers her stocking-ed feet and the Arvel is rolling back from the barn.

    TWH-TWH-TWH-TWH. TWH-TWH-TWH-TWH. She applies the brakes, then brings the lever downwards... more feet maneuvering and the little car jerks forward, and we begin our bumpy journey towards the front gates and toward the village. TWH-TWH-TWH-TWH! 

   The air inside Liliane’s 1948 Arvel smells of motor oil, a sharp contrast to the small bottle of Chanel No. 5 I brought with me on my visit. I shift in the front seat besides Liliane, my fingers tracing the frayed edges of the upholstery, while her fingers alternate between the wheel and the lever between us. Outside, the lush, rolling hills of the French countryside blur into a rhythmic tapestry while Simone is leaning forward with her chin nearly resting on the back of the front seat, her braided hair catching the sunlight that is streaking through the rusted window frame.

    Liliane doesn't blink as her fingers grips the large, thin steering wheel. The engine gives a protesting, guttural growl each time before she moves the gear lever. It’s seems to resist every movement with protest. THUNK. We jerk forward, the car shuddering as she finds the next gear. "It gets us to the village, doesn't it, Yvette?"

    I chuckle, a light sound that seems too delicate for the roar of the laboring engine. "It certainly is an experience, Liliane."

    Simone giggles, pulling a loose thread from her skirt. "Everything’s fine... at least we aren’t walking, Eve!”

    “You’re right, See,” I respond. “You’re right.”

    The car groans as we hit an incline. Liliane’s jaw tightens. She leans into the steering wheel, physically willing the engine to climb. The shift lever vibrates violently beneath her palm as she navigates the transition, the gears whining in a high-pitched, metallic symphony.  It seems raw, mechanical, and stubborn.

    As we crest a hill, a village comes into view, its stone rooftops huddled together. Liliane exhales, easing her foot off the throttle. The car rattles, settling into a lower hum.

    "We’re almost there, Yvette," she says, a flicker of a smile touching her thin lips. “Almost...” 

    I reach out and touch the dashboard, hearing the engine whine behind the metal. We might be dusty and rattled, but as we roll toward the village, I realize I’ve never enjoyed a ride more.

      PART TWO     

    By afternoon, the sun now hangs high and heavy over the cobblestone streets, casting long, shimmering shadows that dance between the storefronts. Liliane and Simone say our errands are complete. My arms ache from carrying heavy parcels, but the weight feels like a victory. We reach Liliane’s parked Arvel automobile that she begins unlocking to load our collection.

    Simone tosses a bundle of silk ribbons into the back seat with a satisfied huff. "That is everything. If I have to look at another fabric bolt today, I shall scream."

    “Just one last stopping for essence, and we’ll head back, alright, Yvette?”

    I nod. While I’m taking the front seat for the journey back, Liliane giggles as she climbs behind the steering wheel. The seat groans under her weight as she settles in, adjusting her red skirt. She looks over at me, her eyes sparkling with a mischievous glint that usually precedes something adventurous.

    "Yvette," she says with her voice bright, "Would you like the honor of helping start her up for us?"

    Liliane holds the Arvel’s key out as if it was fish bait, and I am caught. My heart gives a little flutter. But of course.

    My fingers tremble slightly as I take my trinket and begin to aim for the key slot.

    "Go on, Eve," Simone urges, leaning over the back of the seat, her floral perfume mixing with the scent of the car’s remaining essence. "Don't be shy."

     I guide the key into the slot on the dash in front of me...CaCHINK... and feel the internal tumblers shift and bite. I give the key a firm turn to the right. CLICK. 

    "There," Liliane says, patting the seat besides her red skirt. "Now, do you want to start her up as well?”

    (pause)

    “I'll show you. Come on over, Yvette."

    From the back seat, Simone gives me a playful nudge on the shoulder. "You can do it, Eve! Simple! You can drive some time!“

    “Simple for you, See...”

    Well, actually I never had done... it. Yet... Pedal-starting and riding a moped is not the same in my book....

    I cautiously scooch over the front seat, sliding across the smooth, hot fabric until I am beside Liliane, red skirt and all. 

    “So, take this knob here and pull it out as far as it will go...”

    I place two of my fingers around the knob and pull, slowly...

    “The small one is the starter pedal... First, we will double-check the gears, Yvette... Let me press down the clutch pedal for you.”

    Liliane sends her left foot forwards. ScuQUEAK!

    “Now, you should be able to give the gear lever a shake or two,” as she’s pointing to the lever she was moving around on our drive here.

    I grab the knob to the lever using my left hand and find that I could easily shake the lever back and forth, THUNK, THUNK, THUNK... doing it three times. “Good, we’re in neutral,” Liliane replies. “Have to be.”

    "So, take that small pedal back there and we’ll have you push your left foot onto it," Liliane instructs, her voice dropping into a professional tone. "Give it a firm, steady push. Don't be afraid to use your weight."

    Gulp. I take a deep breath, steadying myself. I lift my left foot and place the sole of my shoe against the pedal. Then, I kick it downwards with a SQUEAK-CLUNK...

    And nothing happens.

    I lift my foot from the pedal SQUEAK and then push harder, my leg muscles straining against the resistance. SQUEAK-CLUNK. The pedal travels down toward the floor, but the engine remains a silent, dormant lump of metal beneath the hood. There is no roar, no puff of smoke, not even a sympathetic groan. I release SQUEAK and push again. SQUEAK-CLUNK. Nothing. SQUEAK-CLUNK. SQUEAK.

    Liliane’s eyebrows knit together in confusion. "Well, that’s... odd. She started just fine this morning." She gestures for me to move. "Let me try. ."

    I slid back toward the passenger side, watching as Liliane braces herself. She stomps the pedal with authority. SQUEAK-CLUNK. The pedal hits the floor, but her engine  does nothing. SQUEAK. She tries again.SQUEAK-CLUNK..... SQUEAK.

    “Yvette, could you turn the key left again?” Liliane asks me. 

    I grab the key and turn it left, and Liliane tries the starter pedal again. SQUEAK-CLUNK..... SQUEAK. Nothing.

    “So the key’s back off, so nothing happened; normal... And turn it back to the right, Yvette...”

    I turn the key back over, with another try by Liliane. SQUEAK-CLUNK..... SQUEAK.

    The only sound within Liliane’s automobile is the rhythmic thump of her shoe. SQUEAK-CLUNK..... SQUEAK.

    Liliane lets out a long, defeated sigh and drops her forehead onto the rim of the steering wheel. "Oh, hun, pourquoi?," she mutters into the shiny black wood.

    Simone leans forward, her brow furrowed. "What now, Lil?"

    I look towards the front of the car, beyond the panel, and think of farm workers and the way they have to coax their equipment into life.

    "Liliane," I ask softly, "doesn't this thing have a crank? You know, the handle at the front?" Yes, this thing not she...

    Liliane lifts her head, looking miserable. "The crank? Oh, Yvette... I think the crank is sitting on the workbench back at the estate. I’m sure I forgot to put it back in the trunk."
She flings the driver’s door open and bounds out of the car, her red skirt swishing with frustration as if she’s fighting a bull. Simone and I follow suit, circling the vehicle like hunters around a fallen beast. Liliane stands at the front, staring at the front of her Arvel automobile.

    "Can you open the front?" I say, my mind racing.

    Liliane raises the Arvel’s front hood. UurRRIIK.. She exposes the engine. The silent metal smells of old and stagnant oil.

    Simone whispers. "What are you thinking, Eve?"

    “Well, See," I say, stepping closer. I point to the large, circular wheel at the front of the engine. "Could we wrap something around this part? Like a pull-start? Wouldn’t that start it?..."

    Liliane blinks, looking from me to the engine and back. "I suppose... conceptually, yes. I don't have a rope on us, Yvette. We don’t have a rope that could tow my automobile, let alone pull-start the engine. I guess go find one..."

    I look at Simone. Specifically, I look at the thick, sturdy braids of hair hanging down her back. Then, my gaze shifts to Liliane’s legs, hidden beneath her fashionable red skirt.

    "We need something strong," I say. I reach out and playfully tug on Simone’s braids. "Strong."

    Simone’s eyes go wide. "You want to use my hair, Eve? Absolutely not!"

    "Not your hair," I laugh. I look at Liliane. "Your stockings, Liliane. If we braid them together..."

    Liliane’s face flushes a deep, rosy pink. "My... my stockings? Take them off here?"

    "No, not out here, but back inside your car," I argue, gesturing to the empty street. "or we walk back.”

    Liliane bites her lip, looks at the silent engine, and sighs.

    "Fine. But you two stay out here. Keep watch for me."

    She climbs back into the passenger seat. pulling the door shut. CHRUNK! Simone and I stand guard, giggling into our hands. We can see the car is slightly rocking. Sway... sway... sway. Liliane’s head bobs up and down as she struggles to peel the tight garments off her legs while inside her automobile.

    "Eve, I think she's stuck!" Simone whispers, doubling over with laughter.

    "Shh! She'll hear you, See! We really will be walking back then... Or at least us..."

    A moment later, the passenger side door creaks back open. Liliane emerges, looking slightly disheveled but triumphant, holding two long, translucent trails of fabric. "Here," she says, thrusting them toward Simone. "You’re the one who’s good with hair, Simone. Make them into something unbreakable."

    Simone takes the stockings from Liliane with a grin. Her fingers fly, twisting and overlapping the fabric. Swish, tuck, pull. Swish, tuck, pull. In minutes, she fashioned a short, braided rope of hosiery, that surprisingly appears to look sturdy while textured.

    "Bravo, See." I cheer.

    "Structure is everything, Eve," she winks.

    "Now," Liliane says, her competitive spirit returning. "You two are too young to be handling this. I will handle the engine. Simone, could you get in the driver's seat for me. I’ll need you to operate the pedals."

    Simone hops into the driver’s seat, looking less nervous than I thought she would be.

    "When I tell you," Liliane says, leaning over the exposed engine, "press down the clutch pedal... that’s the one on the far left. And be ready with the accelerator...the one on the far right. You might have to give her engine some essence if it is struggling..."

   "Okay," Simone says, while gripping the steering wheel. “I’m ready, Lily.”

    I stand just to the side to watch all this drama unfolding between the two of them, with a clear view of Simone in the driver’s seat, and Liliane obscured by the Arvel’s front hood. Liliane takes the stocking-rope, leans over, and sight unseen begins to wind it carefully around the front of the engine.

    Liliane plants her one foot firmly on the cobblestones and the other foot on her automobile’s front bumper. She grabs the end of the braid with both hands.

    "Simone! Push the clutch pedal down! And be ready with the accelerator!”

    "Okay, it’s down!" Simone shouts back.

    Liliane heaves. "Okay, ready, one... two... THREE!"

    She pulls with all her might. WHIRRR-puuf. The stocking-rope is airborne, but the engine remains quiet.

    "Again," Liliane says while rewinding the stocking-rope onto the engine’s front pulley.

    "Alright. One... two... THREE!"

    Liliane pulls again. WHIRRR-puuf. ptwh..The engine coughs. ptwh... Silence...

    "Try again!" Liliane pants, her face turning crimson. She rewinds the stocking-rope onto the engine’s front pulley. "Simone, give it a little more luck this time!"

    Simone nods. “Will do!” she tells Liliane.

    “I’m giving it luck too, um, Lily,” I reply. I think I’m on friendly enough terms to call her ‘Lily’ too.

    “I bet Lily’s going to let you drive this before you go back to Paris,” Simone tells me. “I have.”

    "Hit the pedal, Simone! Hit the pedal!" Liliane screams over the noise.

    "Alright. Ready, one... two... THREE!"

    Liliane pulls again. WHIRRR-puuf. The engine gives a pathetic little gasp, a tiny puff of air that smells like a blown-out candle. A violent tremor passes through the frame of the entire automobile. ptwh...

    The engine dies before it can even cough back to life..

    Liliane wipes sweat from her brow with the back of her arm. "Simone, pump the accelerator twice for me."

    Crick, crick.. I hear the mechanics moving as Simone depresses the pedal.

    Liliane wraps the stocking-rope around a fourth time. She plants one foot firmly on the cobblestones and the other foot on her automobile’s front bumper.

    "Ready, one... two... THREE!"

    She yanks the stocking-rope from the engine’s pulley.

    WHIRRR-puuf.

    A cloud of blue-grey smoke erupts from behind the Arvel. ptwh..ptwh... The automobile shakes violently. ptwh..Simone stomps the accelerator. Crick, ptwh..

    The engine sputters to life with deafening, metallic thunder. PTWH-TWH-TWH-TWH. TWH-TWH-TWH-TWH. From standing outside, I can see the entire automobile vibrating, especially the opened front lid. TWH-TWH-TWH-TWH. The smell of burnt gasoline fills the air, thick and acrid and glorious.

    "YES!" Simone shrieks, bouncing in the seat.TWH-TWH-TWH-TWH.

    Liliane stands back, her hands covered in grease, her hair falling out of its pins, a wild, victorious grin on her face. She looks at me and laughs. "Yvette, perhaps you should come live at the estate full-time; I clearly need a mechanic with a creative mind." TWH-TWH-TWH-TWH.

    I laugh, shaking my head as the engine continues its rhythmic, noisy dance. "Sorry, but I’m going to stick to Paris, Lily...” TWH-TWH-TWH-TWH.

    We quickly load back into the car, a constant, thrumming vibration that makes my teeth ache in the best way possible. Liliane takes the wheel, her grease-stained hands steady. Simone leans forward from the back seat, surrounded by our shopping, and gives my shoulder a firm, celebratory tap. TWH-TWH-TWH-TWH.

    Liliane holds down the clutch pedal... CRICK... and moves the lever leftwards and downwards with a definitive THUNK.

    "Hold on, mademoiselles!" TWH-TWH-TWH-TWH.

    She releases the pedal, and the car lunges forward. TWH-TWH-TWH-TWH! The wind catches our hair, and the cobblestones become a blur beneath our wheels. As we roared out of the town square, the engine singing its loud, mechanical song... TWH-TWH-TWH-TWH!...

    I take See at her word. I always have. Perhaps I will get to properly start up Lily’s Arvel soon. Maybe even drive... her?

    I look down at the braided stockings resting in my lap and smile.

    Structure is everything.

--- Mlle Yvette Annick Mireille Chauvin 

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97% AI: Toolbaz.com and Gemini 2.5 Flash, but I fed it the 900 word "plot" I wrote. The engine sounds and tidbits were added by me. Thanks to both perchance.org and ChatGPT.com for rendering the pictures!  Inspired by the Internet lore of pantyhose regarding car emergencies... don't try this at home.