HER CARS

EXCERPT FROM "GLADYS and CAPONE, the Untold Story"

... “Wow! Mabel, look at that!” A speedster was parked next to the Packard, and Gladys walked around it while the men loaded the trunks. “Did you ever see such a car?” ...

"A two-seater convertible, shiny red with black fenders, a chrome running board and spoke wheels. The engine compartment was half the length of the car. Big round head lamps. The driver’s seat more like the cockpit of a aeroplane.

Craig walked to her, grinning. “Stutz Bearcat,” he said, “1923. Do you like it?”

“Like it!” She looked back toward the ship. “I wonder where the owner is.”

“Right here.” Craig pulled a key from his pocket. “It’s yours, Gladys. Mr. Laemmle sent it. I guess he missed you.”

Gladys stared. A 1923 Stutz Bearcat. She could not believe!

Craig smiled. “Don’t you want to drive it? Sixteen valve T-head, three-hundred-sixty-five cubes. This baby’ll fly, Gladys.”

When she still didn’t move, he took her hand, put the key in it. He opened the little half-door. “Or you can ride with Freddy. Mabel and I’ll take her. Won’t we, sweetheart?”

“You bet!” Mabel grinned.

That snapped Gladys out. “Not on your life!”

She got in, ran her hand over the leather, touched the dashboard, the wood all swirled and polished a dark gold, and all these gauges. She turned the key, pushed the starter pedal on the floorboard. The engine shuddered like a race car.

“Y’all look perfect,” Mabel said, “like it was made for you. Get ya some goggles and a scarf...”

“Gloves,” Craig added.

Gladys splayed her hands on the wheel. “The kind with no fingers, don’t you think?”

“Absolutely!”

She thought of Rudy. Oh, when he sees this car!

In the side mirror she could see Mabel and Craig kissing by the Packard, Freddy wedged in back with the baggage.

Gladys called out, “You two go on. I’ll take the beach road.” She grinned. “Don’t wait up.” Let them have time alone in the bungalow. They nodded and waved.

She edged onto the road. Gripping the wheel, she eased the accelerator down. The power pushed her back against the seat. My God, it was a race car! A thousand times better than a raise. Uncle Carl. Bless his heart. So much for all her fuming about evil studio executives.

She drove up the coast, past oil derricks and open fields, wind in her hair. Seventy miles an hour, eighty, ninety. Probably go over a hundred. What a car! When she passed the occasional flivver or touring sedan, heads turned. In the little beach towns of Redondo and El Segundo and Venice people pointed and waved.

She found the cliff overlooking the beach of Malibu where she and Rudy had danced a waltz and watched the sunset in the Hispano Suiza. She shut off the engine, looked out at the clouds hanging over the sea, a fine mist rolling in. She shivered. Mid October, cold after Hawaii. She’d have Craig show her how to put the top up." ...