While the majority of these Tales that do exist take place during a specific couple of decades in the late 1800s, not all do. In fact, my second story, "My Thoughts on What Happened to Timmy Carmichael", stretched from the late 1980s to 2014 with the focus on 1992. My fifth Tale, "The Little Metal Man" happened in 1978. "Anger", the 7th Tale, took place in 2008. "A Memory of Flame" was 1954 and "Trane's 'a Rolan'" was 2017. Even "A Safe Place to Hide", 1922, qualifies as one set in the days of the automobile. As the stories continued, that Western town and that around have built up the greatest bulk of the Tales, but of 73 now done, quite a few belong to the modern age and while not all such have cars in them of consequence, enough do that I need to spend a moment on them.
I am not an automobile aficionado and though I've worked on my own cars my whole life, I always did it of necessity, not passion. Automobiles are not my geek. We all have geeks, those things which we love deeply and invest time in without any reward beyond geeking, beyond cherishing the distractions one loves. I say this because if I'm writing something set in the 1950's and I need it to be able to get over roads that are rough beyond reason and don't want my Reader who knows what would get over those roads dismissing the Tale upon seeing a poor choice. Or, for example, the story is set in 1933 and there are a couple hobo's who've been hired to drive an old man back to his long-ago home, I wouldn't want to put them in something that did not exist until after that date.
I've read stories like that before, where the author doesn't have a clue to their subject. Years ago on facebook, when I had only a couple stories written, I got into a conversation on a page dedicated to horror writers. Having no one to bounce things off of at that time except my buddy, the Lovecraft Pusher, I joined a couple others in what I hoped would be a place for feedback and such. It didn't hold for longer than a week, but that was long enough to read one piece sent me. Let's just say that Japan was not in the trenches in WW1 and WW2 took place more than a decade beyond that. This was not an attempt at alternative history but a complete lack of historical knowledge. That was not the only such example in that story, but it is the one that sticks clearest in my head. When the suspension of disbelief is impossible, even a minor hiccup, then that pulls me right out of the story and it's hard to get back in. I did not want that happening in these Tales.
When in a story the vehicle becomes more than a shadow and clear enough that its lines are defined, I need to determine what that vehicle is. In the first story written with vehicles in it, their mention only need extend beyond type. There were a couple of vans and pickup trucks as well as emergency vehicles, but all that was need was their silhouettes and Rolan Trane's SUV just need that description. For such generic use, I need nothing more. It is for those vehicles that appear with importance that I focus my research. That research generally comes from two places, the first being google and a search. For example, the two trucks in "A Memory of Flame" were so located. The other place is by watching the cars I see every day and then stealing them for my stories.
The first such theft was for "The Little Metal Man". I needed something that would take the Millers across America comfortably while allowing the father his indulgence of back roads, camping and exploration. I was already considering a Jeep Wagoneer when a new customer began dropping by in such. I took note, went online and started looking them up for that year I wanted to see if they would fit what I had in mind and needed, mainly a tailgate that came down as opposed to opening on the side. This customer's Jeep had the side-open style and a little research showed that they came both ways. Delighted, I made sure their Wagoneer was the newest model possible as his star was rising and his salary was good. Their model was off the lot and this the maiden voyage.
The complete sloughing off of certain social constraints excised has left me rather popular amongst my customers, enough so that the number and type of compliments my bosses get sets them odd expectations for me and has further compounded my reputation at work. The crazy fuel guy is crazy in a delightful way apparently and the nonsense... literal fucking nonsense... that I spew gets me a lot of Christmas gifts each year from customers. By nonsense, just note that I tell everyone to "please, enjoy your gas" and when a customer is confounded at their pump, I usually know what is wrong right away (user error). In order to avoid embarrassing them as I walk them through it, 'cause it's always something simple they screwed up, I generally mostly talk about kittens and how it is very important to think of kittens while preparing their purchase. This leaves them distracted enough so that when things go right, they don't feel stupid but are instead left, well, I always talk about kittens and even grouchy old men trade their scowls for shaking jowls. Even the Corporate bosses are aware of my, er, customer service skills. My supervisor almost passed out when I offered to fold one lady's receipt into an origami swan just to show her how wonderful her receipt could be... as the Vice-President of the parent Corporation of the company I worked for was standing behind me. He, by the way, had to step outside due to his laughter.
I mention all this because when I see a car of remarkable beauty such as a Studebaker Hawk or an oddity such as a Jensen Interceptor II, I go out and admire it. Most those who have such cars always love to talk about them and I generally am given an earful. That Studebaker owner, for example, opened the trunk for me so I could judge if it had enough space to fit two men no more than 5'6" each in height... and yes, I told him why I needed to know. By the way, that story named for that car is one of my favorites but we're going no further on that right now. "The Golden Hawk" will come.
I joked often with the Wagoneer owner and when I told him what I was doing and why, that I needed to get a good look at the interior to describe it accurately, he allowed me my inspection. It wasn't until some time later I told him just how I needed that information and exactly why I needed a good look at the interior, but I did 'cause he kept asking over the next couple of months. Yup, needed to know just how much space I'd need and whether that metal ice chest (it was the '70s) would be able to fit between the seats and the roof easily. You know, at a quick roll? Oh, and his Wagoneer turned out to be a 1978 model. Have I mentioned I have had some weird luck with these Tales?
The second need for a vehicle direct also derived from there but instead a vendor who would always park his Subaru Outback next to my car. By the time I was starting "Anger", I had decided upon just such a vehicle mainly for the all-wheel drive. While those back roads can be accessed on a 2-wheel drive vehicle, don't be alarmed if that is where your vehicle will forever remain. Thus the need for a practical station wagon style vehicle for a young family. When I finally got around to speaking with the owner of that Outback, I had already chosen the year and the story was nearly done. I mentioned to him what I was doing and if I could look at his interior one early morning as we pulled up together. When asked why, I told him I needed to know how the center console was set up because, well, if a rabid mountain lion was crawling through the open window, what would dig into a person's back as that pressure and panic raged? Best thing was, it was a 2000 model, same as I had chosen. Yep, that research proved very useful.
As for "A Memory of Flame", what was needed there were comfortable passage for five men with ample supplies. The host of that party was wealthy and this was the 1950's. Tents were canvas, not nylon that disappears into a tiny pouch. I ended up with two different years of PowerWagons, ensuring each would be 4x4 and that one was an extended cab so I didn't have to have one truck packed too tight. I can't remember off the top of my head right now what years they were and that detail here described is not really important. This is mainly to illustrate the care which I have taken at times to ensure that I make as little a fool of myself as possible and don't place Imperial Japanese soldiers in a trench in France in 1919 (yes, that detail was wrong as well!). That the technology expressed is correct is what's important.
As these stories developed, more and more vehicles have come in to play, such as the truck the victims, I mean characters in the story I'm working have. Of those that were of consideration, based on when I knew the truck was purchased, I settled on a Studebaker S8 over Whites or Fageols, three names for heavy trucks which most alive today either never heard of or are so far back in memory that recall is only prompted by hearing or reading the name. This research has opened me up to a world I was never keen on before though, the history of the automobile and the prized beauties of the past. While I am still not a geek proper here, I at least now know how to understand the fascination and it has informed strongly my work.
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