The Soap Box Race Car
by Patt Elmore

***********************

You have been asked over and over and over again what you *really* want
for your birthday.  When you tell them, the reactions have been
everything from raised eyebrows, to polite/worried snickers to shakes of
the head.  

What's so weird about your wish, you wonder.

Doesn't everyone want a soap box race car for their birthday?

As the days count down to your special day, you have almost given up hope
of having your wish granted.  

Then, in the late, late afternoon of the 19th, your doorbell rings.  As
you hurry to check out who your caller is, you see the receding figure of a
brown clad male (nice thighs, by the way) getting into a coffee colored
panel truck. 'Thank goodness the strike is over,' you think, as you
open your front door and eagerly look for the announced package.

There, sitting on your stoop, is a large cardboard box.  When you try to
lift it, it proves much too heavy for your efforts.  So, you decide to tear
into it where it stands.

As you look inside the now open box, you cannot squelch a squeal of
delight. There, unassembled of course, is your desired go-cart.  There
is a card tucked inside, written in an elegant, obviously masculine hand.
  "From your secret friend."

Armed with a screw driver and other assorted tools, you proceed to sit on
your lawn and put together your new toy.  As the lovely black and silver
non-motorized vehicle begins to take shape, friends and relatives stop by
and examine your gift with interest.    

It is after dusk when you finally finish assembling your project.  There
it stands--a magnificent example of machinery, gleaming in the bright light
of the full moon.  There is no way you can wait until morning to try it
out, so you quickly begin pushing it toward the steep hill near your
home.

You are half way up the slope when a whoosh of air alerts you to the fact
that you are no longer alone.  Firm, strong hands reach past you,
catching hold of the guide bars of the go-cart and taking over the chore
of pushing the vehicle up the hill.  As the figure brushes past you, your
heart takes a funny lurch.  You had suspected that your benefactor was
*him*, but had not expected him to make a personal appearance.

"Nunkies . . ." your breathing is shallow, your heart is racing.  That
climb took more out of you than you care to admit.

LaCroix looks over at you and smiles.  "Come along, mon cher, the night
is young and we have many hills to explore."

Taking a deep breath, you race to catch up with him.  Nunkies is already
at the top of the hill, waiting, when you arrive.  He smiles again.  You
are now panting as much for him as you are from being out of wind.

"Here," he coos, offering you his hand.  "Let me help you slip into the
driver's seat."

Nunkies makes sure that you are tucked inside, then instructs you to move
forward.  To your astonishment, he slips in behind you.  The fit is
tight, but you don't appear to mind the pressure of his upper legs
against your hips.  He quickly adjusts the seat belt around you, planting
a quick kiss on the back of your neck--for luck.

You aren't really sure how the go-cart starts moving, but you are
suddenly racing down the steep hillock.  The backdraft of wind catches
the scream which forms in your throat as houses, trees, and traffic
management signs all shoot past your peripheral vision at an extreme
velocity.  

LaCroix reaches around you, grabbing hold of the guide bars, helping you
steer the vehicle.  This action causes his body to press against yours
even tighter, if possible.  

At the bottom of the hill, Nunkies jerks the vehicle to the left,
negotiating a very tight turn, which sends you down another hill.  You are 
now screeching with delight at the feel of the wind in your face, the sheer
joy of this flight.  LaCroix leans forward and whispers in your ear, "I
understand."

Finally, at the bottom of the second hill, the go-cart comes to a gentle
stop.   Nunkies helps you out of the cart, but you are trembling, almost
too weak to stand.  He catches you and pulls you close, smiling down at
you.

"Perhaps now is the time that we should discuss another 'ride' I had in
mind for us, hmmmmm?"

***********************************************

Happy birthday, Zeb.

Patt