Clunkers
Starsky folded the paper and hooked his reading glasses into the neck of his t-shirt.
“Uncle Al would have hated this,” he said to himself, “but I can't resist.”
He tapped in the familiar ‘phone number. These days he had to let it ring longer than before – Hutch was definitely getting a little hard of hearing. Finally the familiar voice answered with a slightly breathless “this had better be good.” Starsky chuckled; “been taking the little blue pills again?”
“Very funny. No, I'm fixing the washing machine…again.”
Poor Hutch, his life had always been plagued by the breakdown of mechanical objects put within his range. When the department had installed a big photocopy machine in the Squad Room, it was always when Hutch used it that there was a paper jam. Starsky closed his eyes and tried not to think about his partner's first encounter with a desk-top computer terminal.
He adjusted the ear piece that linked his call to the lap top on the low table in front of him and as he did so he heard the tell tale beep warning Hutch that his cell-phone battery was running low. He tuned back in to what Hutch was saying.
“…suds and water everywhere and then I couldn't find where I'd put this damn thing down. So any way, how are you?”
“I'm fine,” Starsky sipped the cranberry based smoothie that he always took after his morning six-mile walk; “just fine. I was wondering if you'd seen the latest measure about pollution.”
Hutch said something unintelligible and Starsky grinned. He knew exactly how to push his partner's buttons even in retirement. While Starsky lived quietly in his house in the canyons – the one he'd bought all those years ago and had remodeled a couple of times to bring it into line with modern life and to accommodate a wife and child; one of whom was in the bathroom and the other at college; Hutch was living in the house in the Valley that he'd salvaged from his disastrous marriage to Alice; who had turned out not to be the mythical hooker with a heart of gold, but hard-nosed business woman who now ran a chain of ‘beauty therapy centers' and removed herself and the twins from his life about two years ago.
“Starsky, I haven't had a chance to go out and buy the paper today, leave alone read the damn thing. What measure?”
“I'm on my way over. I'll take a look at the washing machine too if you like.”
I'll get the coffee going.” That was one machine even Hutch couldn't sabotage!
Starsky parked in front of the house and walked up the lawn; Hutch watched him. His ex-partner was a few months older than he was but damn it how was it the former junk food king survivor of a should-be fatal shooting looked younger than he did? He comforted himself that his own father looked about sixty when he was only forty.
He threw a sour look at the big black SUV; it was obviously brand new. And Starsky had come to talk about the environment “jeez give me a break!”
Starsky tapped the page as he accepted his coffee. “Read it. You should think about this. “
Hutch read how the new government was offering up to four grand to encourage people to trade in their gas-guzzling clunkers for something new and clean.
“Ok; I get it. You think I should trade in my car.”
“You still insist in calling that heap a car?”
Hutch said nothing and finished reading the piece. “OK so maybe I will look into this.”
“Do better than that buddy – take the deal. That heap of yours,” Starsky stared out at the aging nondescript Ford and calculate that it had to be at least ten years old even if Hutch had bought one of the last of the production run. At least it didn't need an additive to make ot run on unleaded gas like his last rust-bucket. “That heap of yours probably isn't even worth more than a couple of grand; you'd be making a profit!”
“So what do you suggest I buy?” Hutch's voice dripped with sarcasm as he looked again at Starsky's car.
“What about something like mine? You could take it on fishing trips and all.”
That was another thing rankled with Hutch - now it was Starsky who wanted to go fishing and hiking and trekking a god-what! And what's more he had the time and the finance to go whenever he damn well pleased. Not like Hutch who had a decent but not outstanding pension and had lost all of the trust fund in his second divorce.
“Starsky, it says here;” Hutch pointed his long forefinger at the page, “that you only get the deal if you buy a clean engine and that out there is an SUV.”
“Yeah, beautiful isn't it?” Hutch closed his eyes and ears for a moment. Starsky could afford whatever he wanted; he had no alimony to pay and he had made a big success out of whatever it was he and his brother Nick did with computers and surveillance.
“It's an SUV, Starsky…S for Smog U for Un environmental, V for Vehicle.”
He was rewarded with one of those lopsided grins that could melt what was left of the Arctic Ice cap. “Come with me.”
Hutch followed him and stood staring at the badge on the side of the car. “Lexus 400h”
“H,” Starsky said quietly, “for Hybrid.”