Free 90_Minutes_to_Live by JournalStone

his own way slowly over to the car. By the time he reached it the Medvan had taken off.
    "She's as good as new." It was Cecilia's boy, Steve. “Glad to see you are too,” he opened the hood and Ben felt a prick of jealousy. "The problem was your water pump, Ben. I don't know how long it was in there but it was rusted through. Don't worry though; I fabricated a new one–one that won't rust. I altered the design a little so it should–"
    "I don't want some fancy new pump. I just want the same old kind I've been using for years."
    "Sorry Ben but they don't make pumps like that anymore. They probably haven't for decades. I don't know where you managed to find the last one."
    "Junkyard," Ben replied gruffly.
    "Well, anyway, she should drive fine now," Steve said, closing the hood.
    "Didn't mean to sound ungrateful. I appreciate all the work you do helping me keep her in shape."
    "Don't worry about it. I know she's more to you than just wires and pistons. But I'm afraid I’ve got some bad news. I've been transferred to our corporate headquarters in Osaka, so I won't be around to help you anymore. I'll miss it. I love working on this old relic. It's probably the only one of its kind still running."
    "Yeah," said Ben, "we relics have to stick together."
     Steve chuckled and said, "Looks like you've got company."
    Ben turned and saw a hovering aerocar.
    "I'm going to get going. Best of luck to you, Ben."
    “Thanks for all your help Steve.”
    The aerocar landed and both hatches lifted. Out one side popped a little pixie of a girl. She had on a pink and white T-shirt and white shorts revealing skinny legs.
    "Grampa Ben!" she screeched and threw her arms around him.
    He held on just to keep his balance as she hugged him with puppy-like zeal. She smelled of lilacs, or some kind of flower he thought. He felt the silky smooth skin of her arms and the soft pressure of her breasts against his stomach. She was a tiny thing, not more than five-two or five-three he figured.
    Truthfully, he didn't recognize her. S omething was familiar about her–that light red hair, the slightly upturned nose. He was sure she looked like someone he had once known.
    "Amber?"
    "It's so swanking to see you again Grampa Ben."
    Someone else emerged from the aerocar–a young fellow carrying two small bags. He was neat-and-clean and oddly serious-looking, except half his head was shaved nearly bald, with a tattoo of a featureless mask under the stubble. The other half had a full shock of wavy blond hair. The odd-looking young man stopped a few feet behind Amber.
    "Grampa Ben, this is Shon. Shon, this is my great-great-grandfather, Grampa Ben."
    "Jell to face with you Mr. Glucorde," the boy said formally. But even as he spoke his eyes were drawn to the car. "Scan this, Am. This is swanking," he said, as he circled it. "Must be at least fifty years old–a real museum piece."
    "Hmmph! It's a lot older than that boy. This is a 1965 Ford Mustang."
    "You're jacking me? Did you file that Am? This ob is more than a hundred years old."
    "Sure, Grampa Ben's had that forever. I swoon for the color."
    "Acapulco Blue," Ben said, and as the words left his mouth he was brushed by a vivid recollection. The woman with the red hair. He remembered now. She’d looked like Amber. How could he have ever forgotten her? The lapse angered him. Through the disgust with his faulty memory he saw her clearly now. He recalled the time he ' d taken the car to have it painted and how she ' d insisted on that color because its designation reminded her of their trip to Mexico. From then on, it was never just blue . It was the blue-blue of the clear blue water off the beaches of Acapulco.
    "Does it actually pow'up?" Shon reached out and tentatively touched the car as if its metal skin might come to life.
    "If you mean does she go–damn straight!" Ben growled; his fragile reminiscence shattered. "She'll blow the Turtle Wax off that contraption of yours."
    "Turtle wax?"
    "Yeah, Turtle– oh