She Would Know Me Not Beyond The Keys of My Car

It was a quick drive by means of two highways, a de facto gas station laid barren by predetermined travelers that never came, and a counted thirteen turns off Interstate 5 down into Lanial Pass. The promise of being next to  her sprouted a lost feeling of hope; previously laid dormant by critically played means and outside influence and exacerbation. Hidden from him she was.He needed her love and the chance to obtain it ruled out any logical basis to turn back and just head home. Logic had no place when it came to their love.Love, apparently, didn't have the time or patience for it.The name of the man didn't matter nor did the woman's name he desired. What was conclusively evident was that he needed my car and by the look in his eye, I could tell his need was an understatement. His pupils didn't register conscious thought. It was obvious he was on autopilot and his engine would not cease to run, even absent of whatever propulsive energy it lacked time in repair could afford.1986 Honda Civics are notoriously dependable cars. Fidus Achates to those who maintain religious care by means of an oil-change every exact 3000 miles, a new fuel filter every 20,000 miles, and other  " ...recommended and required maintenance needs the vehicle will need to ensure proper operation and functionality." The man holding his empty, grease-stained hand out in front of him...asking for it to be filled with my keys, was not religious by of past said automobile. That... his 1986 Honda Civic, laid bellowing powder blue and black fumes from its exhaust and engine. Apparently he ran it so fast, so hard, and so enthused that the small ticking he was used to hearing, for the past month, grew into a decisive and overwhelming, "PADA-TACK TACK TACK BLAMMO, OH FUCK MY HEAD IS BLOWN!"The man didn't care. He just spent the past fifteen minutes telling me about the woman he was about to lose unless he found a way to make it to her farm by 12:15PM Pacific Time.He said, "Pacific Time!" quite distinctly, loudly, and purposely. It didn't register any inquisitional response in me beyond my normal minor countenance. It was soon after he handed me an envelope that smelled of lilacs and whispered of emotions associated with scribblings of promises in pencil laid so poetically, that I had made my decision.I figured that my hike would take me about four hours, so I asked him if he could return my car by 5PM  and he replied  an enthusiastic, "YES!"After all, who I am to get in the way of love so standing... especially if the only thing stopping it is a 1986 Honda Civic with a blown head gasket. I liked the idea that his love for her would know me not beyond the keys of my car.What do keys mean to anything if the lock they fit isn't worth opening?It was a pleasant hike that day.