Bernie, our sales rep, returned from the office of the dealership with the keys to the beige Ford Escort Lori had chosen to test drive. After Lori settled herself in the driver’s seat, Bernie slid into the passenger seat before I could call “shotgun.” Resigning myself to the back seat, I leaned back as Lori smoothly eased the Escort out of the lot onto Roscoe Blvd. She turned left onto Sepulveda Blvd. and headed south toward Sherman Oaks through the local traffic to get a feel for the automatic transmission. Bernie’s sales pitch never stopped.

"Ma’am, this little beauty gets up to 47 MPG on the highway. You can drive from here to San Francisco on a tank of gas. You'll completely skip the gas lines. Notice how nicely it hugs the asphalt? That’s Ford’s advanced Front-Wheel Drive. It’s built on a global platform with European handling, but it’s stamped with American pride right here in the USA. Turn right here."

Lori turned right onto Plummer Street then looped onto the 405 Freeway South at Nordhoff St. We took the 405 South down to Sherman Way.

“See how well this beauty handles the freeway?” Bernie proudly asked. “"It’s incredibly low maintenance. Ford engineered the 'Hedgehog' engine to have self-adjusting valves and brakes. Perfect for running errands, getting to work, or driving your niece to school without worrying about breakdowns."

“Stepdaughter. Not niece,” I interjected.

“Oh, sorry. You know what they say when you assume…”

Halfway through the test drive, we exited Sherman Way, turned left under the bridge, and hopped back onto the 405 Freeway North. Back onto Roscoe Blvd, Lori made a right turn straight back into the Ford dealership’s massive lot. The whole thing seemed like an eternity but actually lasted only 25 minutes.

“If you like the way it handled, we can head back to the office, talk to our financing department, and I’ll see if I can get you a great deal on a factory-ordered AM/FM cassette radio." Bernie took back the keys from Lori and got out of the car. He started to walk slowly back to the office. Lori sighed and looked at me in the back seat.

“What do you think?”

“Looks like you decided even before we got here. It’s OK, I guess. It’s not like you’re going to be drag racing on San Fernando Road in Sylmar anytime soon. Are you going to trade in your old rust bucket?”

“Nah. They’d never give me a fair deal on it. I’m going to try to sell it myself. I think I get $1200 for it.”

“Keep dreaming, Lori.”

“No, your dad thinks so too. He wants me to place an ad in the LA Times classifieds. He even wrote out the ad for me. ‘1975 Ford Pinto, low mi, clean int, A/C, runs gd. $1,200 OBO. Call 555-3214 after 6PM’.”

“Why after 6PM?”

“He figures if they call right at 6, I’ll pick it up on the phone in the kitchen.” Lori rolled her eyes. “Anyway, I’ve got a fish on the line back at the office. Gloria, the receptionist, needs a car. She takes the bus from Century City to our offices in Hollywood every day. 45 minutes during rush hour. I can get her to bite on $800 at least.”

“Sounds like an easy mark.”

As we hurried to catch up with Bernie’s slow gait, Lori turned to me. “Sweetie, you don’t have to sit in on the negotiations. This might take a while. Why don’t you go back to Denny’s and have yourself a Mr. Pibb?”

“What’s a Mr. Pibb?”

“It’s like Dr. Pepper, only better. In my opinion.”

Bernie turned around just before the entrance to the main building. “We’ve got our own restaurant on site. The Horseless Carriage. I recommend the burgers. I have lunch there at least once a week. You can go in through the showroom.”

The vast extent of the showroom with lanes punctuating the Ford models stretched out before us when we stepped inside. You could see the restaurant through glass partitions. People were having lunch inside, occasionally gazing out at the showroom.

“I’ve already had lunch.”

“Have a cup of coffee in our break room. On us,” Bernie chuckled. “Just go through the back of the showroom, past the restrooms. And I won’t vouch for the coffee being decent. But you’re welcome to it.”

I had just settled into a seat at an empty table in the break room, taking a sip of the hot coffee I’d poured out from the coffee maker next to the tiny microwave. I was about to tear open a packet of sugar when Mateo Cortez strolled in. Spotting me, he smiled and waved. After pouring himself a cup of coffee, he plopped himself down at my table.

“Mind if I join you?”

“Feel free.”

“So, did your…uh…”

“My stepmom. Well, actually prospective stepmom. She’s engaged to my dad. I think the wedding is planned for October. I know back East, fall weddings are so beautiful. All that autumnal foliage. The weather turning brisk. The sunsets.”

“The Escort’ll be perfect for a woman driver.”

“Yeah, I just don’t like the color she picked. I’d have chosen the Sunrise Red instead. So, tell me, Mateo, what kind of stuff does your father have you doing on a daily basis?”

“Standing out in the blazing San Fernando Valley heat with a hose, a bucket of soapy water, and a chamois cloth. I’m responsible for washing off the thick layer of Valley smog, dust and crud that piles up on the cars in the lot. Then there’s moving cars around to keep the inventory looking just right from the street. The worst job is sweeping up metal shavings, emptying heavy trash barrels full of oily rags, and using a degreaser to scrub the grease off the mechanics' bay floors. See?” He pointed to the dark streaks on his uniform.

“Sounds worse than breaking rocks in the penitentiary.”

“My father always reminds me that’s how he got started. The good thing is he lets us use the garage afterhours for rehearsing. No one’s around to complain about the noise,” Mateo laughed.

There was a gap in our conversation as we sipped our coffee. Mateo’s eyes betrayed an urge to bring up a subject with me. Finally, he took a big gulp of his coffee and spoke.

“So, are you and Blaise like dating?”

“Oh no. His grandmother asked him to be my tour guide this summer. Show me the sights and everything. I’m only here until the end of August. I go back to New York for school. So, yeah, it’d be pointless to be dating Blaise. Or anyone I meet here.”

“That’s good. I mean, Blaise is a good dude and all but he’s a bit of a player, that’s what I mean.”

“Did he really dump your sister?”

“No, not really. You see, we grew up together in Torrance before Blaise’s parents got divorced. My sister had a crush on him from the time we were in elementary school. He kind of never gave her a second thought. She never got over it. I just like to needle Blaise about it.”

“But he’s a bit of a player?”

“Yeah, you know, he’s good looking and comes from wealth. Shit, they live in Palos Verdes in the millionaire’s section of town. He drives that Mustang around when he wants to impress a girl. His grandfather bought it for him when he got his license. It’s a collector’s car. Must have set him back close to $10,000…”

“He told me it was his grandpa’s.”

“He did? That’s not his usual strategy with girls he likes.”

“It doesn’t really matter. I’m not interested in him in that way. I think he’s a nice boy, that’s all.”

“Say what. Since you’re not serious into Blaise or anything. My band is rehearsing in the garage tonight after the lot closes at 7PM. You’re welcome to watch us. Having an audience, even if it’s just one person, makes us play better.”

“I’d like to come. But I’d have to have Lori drive me here. It’s not far from our house though. My Dad doesn’t want me out late, especially in the company of strangers. No offense. Lori will want me to call her to pick me up after a couple of hours.”

“That’s OK. Have her drop you off at the garage around 7:30. I’ll be outside waiting to let you in. Now, I’ve got to get back to work.” He finished the last bit of his coffee. “See you tonight.”

About ten minutes later, Lori walked into the break room.

“Ready to go?” she asked.

“Done already? It’s been less than a half an hour. I was sure the haggling would go on far longer.”

“I talked him down to $5,500. That’s at least 300 off sticker price. I think it was the fact I paid in full. Wrote out a check sitting across from him at his desk. He was a little shocked.”

“I thought Dad gave you the money.”

“He did. Transferred the money into my checking account. It’s all good. I told them to deliver it tomorrow morning. Come on, let’s head back home.”

As we walked toward where Dad’s Land Cruiser was parked, I broached the garage rehearsal thing to Lori.

“OK if you say you know this guy. His dad is the manager here so it’s not likely he’s another Hillside Strangler. But you have to call me to pick you up before 10PM. Regardless. Remember what your father said about staying out too late.”

Lori saw the massive, covered service drive-up awning of the service garage as she pulled into the dealership from Roscoe Boulevard. She drove straight into one of the designated service lanes. Waiting by the doors was Mateo, waving to us.

I got out of the car, promised Lori I’d call her by 10PM if not earlier, and took Mateo’s hand as we entered the garage. Inside, the rest of Mateo’s band, The Western Sons, was already setting up their equipment. After introducing me to the rest of the band…again. We’d all met the Friday before after their gig at Grimaldi’s and shared beers on Mulholland Drive overlooking the city afterwards.

“Cheating on Blaise already?” teased Blotto (whose real name was Otto Fischman).

“I wanted to see how the other half lives,” I parried.

“Make yourself comfortable on the sofa. Can I get you something to drink? We have an excellent selection of Shasta sodas for your liquid consumption,” Mateo said with a wave of his hand as he opened the compact fridge. “We’ve got Cola, Root Beer, Twist, Black Cherry, Ginger Ale, and my personal favorite, Tiki Punch.”

I sat down on the beat-up leather sofa that faced the band as they were tuning up. “Thank you,” I said as I accepted a bottle of the Tiki Punch. “We don’t have Shasta soda in New York.”

“Do we have any requests from the audience?” Blotto asked.

“Play something up-tempo. Something happy not sad.”

“Here’s something we’re thinking of adding to our set. Count it down, Blotto, please.”

Standing outside the garage at a quarter of 10 o’clock, Mateo threw his jeans jacket across my shoulders.

“You were shivering. It gets cool in the Valley at night, even in the summer.”

“Thanks. I really enjoyed tonight. Your band’s really good. Hopefully, you can make it a full-time thing and ditch working for your dad.”

“The music business is really tough. You have to have the right management.”

“Do you?”

“That remains to be seen. Say what. I’ve got Saturday afternoon free. Have you ever been to the Santa Monica Pier? It’s a fun place.”

“I went with Lori and Dad last summer, but it wasn’t too much fun because the two of them were having some personal drama about moving from Alhambra to Sherman Oaks. They fought about it all summer it seems. Dad wanted to move but Lori wanted to stay close to her family in East L.A.”

“I promise no drama this time. Just fun. I’ll pick you up around noon. OK?”

“OK. You have my address. I look forward to it, Mateo.”

Lori drove up in the Land Cruiser and honked her horn. I waved goodbye to Mateo as I ran to the car. Abruptly, I stopped and remembered to return Mateo’s jacket to him. He took the jacket from my hand and pulled me toward him. Closing his eyes, he kissed me softly on the lips. It was a long few seconds before our lips separated. Blushing, I turned away quickly and ran to Lori’s car.

Right after breakfast on Wednesday morning, Lori and I went through the checklist for absolutely necessary things I had to carry with me for my daylong visit to Griffith Observatory with Blaise.

“Since you insist on wearing a sundress…”

“It’s pretty. I look really nice in it.” I twirled once as the skirt danced teasingly above my knees.

“The hiking paths in Griffith Park are dusty and unpaved. I’m letting you borrow my spandex bike pants. It’ll keep the dust off your patootie and keep anything else tamped down. Next, you’ll need a sweater. It gets cool in the evening, and the Observatory is air-conditioned to a chill. Sunglasses. Don’t lose these. They’re my favorite pair. Your Dodgers cap. Otherwise your hair’s going to resemble a bird’s nest. You’re already wearing sneakers. That’s perfect. Clutch purse and shoulder bag. Pay for your own food and tickets. Don’t make Blaise pay for everything—”

“Lori, he always insists. I think Mr. Glover gives him spending money on the sly. Don’t rat him out to Mrs. Glover.”

“Regardless. He’s not dating you. He’s doing this as a favor to you and his grandmother. Now, I think that’s it. Can you think of anything else?”

“A partridge and a pear tree?”

“We’re all out of those. Want me to put those on order?”

“Oh, yeah, I almost forgot. Your camera. Can I borrow it? They say the views from the Observatory are awesome.”

“I’ll let you borrow it but it’s not a toy, Joey. Be very careful with it and don’t even think of losing it. Do you remember how to use it from last summer?”

“Sure. Piece of cake. Film?”

“It’s already loaded. 24 exposures in the roll. Don’t use up the roll in the first half hour or you’ll have to buy another roll from the gift shop.”

“Do I look like a complete moron? Don’t answer that!”

At a little after 9AM, we heard a car pull up the driveway. It was Lori’s new Ford Escort. Beige. I was hoping they’d make a mistake and deliver the one in Sunrise Red. We both rushed out of the house, excited to inspect Lori’s new baby.

It was Mateo who jumped out of the car, a big smile on his face. His uniform was spotless. Good thing the delivery was made first thing in the morning!

“Mateo! ¿Qué pasa aquí?”

“I asked Bernie if he’d mind if I delivered it instead of our usual guy. That way I’d get to see you again.”

“You two have a nice chat while I inspect the car,” Lori said as she circled the car’s exterior before sliding into the driver’s seat to check the odometer.

“How are you going to fit that into your garage now that you’ve got three cars?” asked Mateo.

“Four, when Dad returns from Santa Barbara. Well, Lori is selling her old rust bucket. I guess one of these cars will have to be parked in the driveway. Most probably Dad’s since he uses it everyday to commute to work. Lori works from home 4 days a week.”

“If your dad can afford it and I think he obviously can, I’d install a motorized stacker lift. The garage looks like it has a high enough ceiling to accommodate it. I know a guy…”

“OK, inspection’s over. Where do I sign so we can get this over with?” Lori asked with a smile.

Mateo reached into the car and took out a clipboard with some sheets of paper on it. He clicked the push button on his pen and handed it to Lori.

“Here. Here. And here.”

As Lori scribbled her signature on the documents, a cherry red Ford Mustang roared onto Beverly Ridge Drive and stopped on a dime in front of the house. It was Blaise, who came to pick me up to spend the day at Griffith Observatory. He jumped out of the car, dressed in a graphic tee and blue jeans, with a ball cap on his head.

“Hey, hey, hey. New car?”

“Hi, Blaise. You’re…right on time. Let me go in the house and pick up my bag.”

“Hey, Miss Garcia. Nice new car.”

“Blaise, please call me Lori. Miss Garcia sounds like I’m a spinster librarian or something.”

“Cortez? Cortez, is that you?”

“Hey, Blaise. Just doing my job. Delivering autos to the people.”

“Mateo invited me to see the band rehearse in his dad’s garage last night. It was cool.”

“His dad doesn’t own the dealership. He’s just the manager,” Blaise said with a bitter tone.

“We working stiffs just tryin’ to get along, sir.”

Blaise turned to me. “I’ll wait in the car, Joey. Nice to see you again, Lori.”

We turned off Beverly Glen Road to drive south on the Ventura Freeway through to Los Feliz Blvd., N. Vermont Ave., N. Vermont Canyon Rd., Western Canyon Rd. and, finally, to Fern Dell Drive, at the foot of the Fern Dell Nature Trail that leads up to Griffith Observatory. A breezy 40-minute drive on a warm summer morning.

“Free parking all day long here,” Blaise announced as he slid the Mustang into a cozy space a few yards from the Trails Café.

“Is the Ferndell Nature Trail entrance around here?” I asked.

“Yeah, the sign’s right there. Get everything you’ll need for the hike and leave the rest in the car. We’ll come back down here when we have lunch at The Trails Café.”

I grabbed my clutch purse, Lori’s camera on a neck strap, and placed my Dodgers cap on my head. Unexpectedly, Blaise took my hand, and we walked toward the Ferndell sign to enter the trail leading up to Griffith Observatory.

A hike up the Ferndell Nature Trail in Griffith Park begins as a cool, shaded walk through a lush, tropical canyon before climbing into the open ridges of the Santa Monica Mountains. It feels like a secret jungle in the middle of Los Angeles. A gentle, spring-fed stream runs alongside the path. Giant coast live oaks, western sycamores, and dozens of fern species shade the path. Small stone bridges and creaky wooden ones pop up every fifty yards or so. Fishponds built in the 1930s are filled with Koi, goldfish, and mosquitofish

“Are you dating Cortez the Killer?” Blaise asked as I pulled focus on a shot of the winding creek rippling slowly underneath a series of wooden slat bridges that looked too flimsy to walk across. I wasn’t ready to press the shutter release button just yet. I didn’t want to waste exposures so early in the day.

“His name is Mateo. No, I’m not dating him. He just happens to work at the Ford dealership, and he invited me to a band rehearsal. Anyway, what’s it to you?”

“He’s not the type of guy you should spend time with, that’s all.”

“Wrong economic class to suit you? Or are you a racist?”

“What? Where’d you get that idea? He’s just a bad dude. These musician types are bad news.”

“They’re your friends.”

“I grew up with them in Torrance. But that was like years ago, even before middle school. Just take my word, Joey. You deserve better friends.”

“Well, it’s too late. Mateo and I are engaged—”

Blaise grabbed me by the shoulders. The camera fell from my grasp and swung about, hitting my abdomen two or three times.

“How could you do that?”

“Don’t freak out! I was just joking. Boy, you’re wound tight. You’re taking this job too seriously. You’re my tour guide not my boyfriend—”

He let go. Trying to calm himself, his voice was a monotone.

“Sorry. I shouldn’t ever do that. Who you see and what you do is your own business. Not mine. Just be careful about being with Cortez. He’s an angry dude.”

“Like you maybe? Look, like I said, I’m not dating him and I have no plans to date anyone. I’m only here for the summer. Just want to have a good time. Now, can we continue the hike?”

“Yeah. Sorry. I’ll mind my own business from now on. No hard feelings?”

“I’ll take it as real concern for my well-being on your part but there are boundaries. Just don’t overstep them.”

We walked in silence as I continued to compose images through my viewfinder. After about half a mile, the flat nature trail ends and the uphill climb begins, transitioning from a cool tree canopy into a steeper dirt fire road or trail heading toward the Griffith Observatory.

“You’re not going to say anything to my grandmother, are you?”

“About what?” I replied, bending down to get a good angle on a group of goldfish in one of the ponds.

“Getting a little rough with you over something stupid that’s totally my fault. I mean, I really like showing you the sights of the town. You’re really different from all the girls I’ve ever known. You seem really smart—”

“Just seem smart? I’m different, for sure. But not in the way you’d understand. And I like you as my tour guide. Even though you’re sort of weird. In a nice way…” My voice went up as if asking a question.

“Good, I’ve got plans for places and things for you to see. I do research, you know. Like where I can park for free. Places to eat on our trips. Public restrooms, etc., etc. Are there any places or things you’d like to see that I might not think of?”

“No, surprise me. That’s the thrill of the unexpected. The new and unusual. You’re doing a good job…so far.”

We climbed ever higher. The trees thinned out and revealed wide views through the smog of the L.A. basin, downtown skyscrapers, and the Hollywood Sign. At the top of the trail, we finally reached the observatory. It had taken us more than 45 minutes. To commemorate the successful climb, I snapped a photo of Blaise standing in front of the Astronomer’s Monument, a 40-foot-high concrete sculpture erected in 1934, six months before the observatory officially opened, which honors some of history’s most influential astronomers from Hipparchus to Copernicus, Galileo, Kepler, and Isaac Newton.

The Observatory didn’t open until Noon, so we descended the Fern Dell Trail in a quick 25 minutes and sat down for lunch at The Trails Café. I had the avocado sandwich and encouraged Blaise to order that instead of a Snake-Dog, a hot dog wrapped in pastry dough on a stick. He chose the Snake-Dog. We shared a slice of apple pie for dessert and finished the meal off with cups of cappuccino. After sitting outside the café on some shaded benches, we decided to head back up the trail. This time I took several pictures of the best scenes and natural elements we came across. After 40 minutes, we were among the first to enter the observatory when it opened its doors.

Admission to the building is free. Tickets at $10 a pop are needed for the various Planetarium shows that run on a daily schedule. Every other exhibit or demonstration is free of charge.

When you enter on the main level, the first thing you see in the Central Rotunda is the famous Foucault Pendulum, an iconic, mesmerizing giant pendulum swinging over a clock track to demonstrate Earth’s rotation, set beneath vibrant, historical ceiling murals. The Ahmanson Hall of the Sky is in the West Wing of the main level. Its centerpiece is the Coelostat (a solar telescope) which projects a live, real-time giant image of the sun onto a screen inside the room. In the East Wing, the Wilder Hall of the Eye houses the spectacular, high-energy Tesla Coil demonstration which sparks massive bolts of electricity into a cage right in front of the audience.

In the lower level, the Griffith Observatory Exhibit is a 150-foot-long hallway linking the upper and lower levels of the building, decorated with thousands of pieces of celestial jewelry to visually depict the timeline of the universe from the Big Bang to today. Then there’s The Gunther Depths of Space, a massive room dominated by “The Big Picture” – a highly detailed, multi-gigapixel photograph of the night sky. I had to take a picture of it, hoping my high-speed film and low f-stop setting would capture all of its awesome beauty. Blaise wanted me to take a picture of him posing next to the bronze statue of Albert Einstein. I passed.

In the Planetarium, our tickets were used to view two shows. One was “Signs of Life,” an astronomical detective story searching for the building blocks of life across Mars, distant moons, and outer galaxies. The second one was “Centered in the Universe,” an exploration of the history of cosmic mapmaking, the Big Bang, and how humanity’s understanding of our place in the universe has changed over the centuries. Over two hours in duration, these presentations held my attention and conveyed the awe that science elicits from us as it strives to explain the mysteries of the universe. I was afraid that Blaise would fall asleep but, whenever I turned to look at him, he was staring at me, not at the dome screen above and around us. We both exchanged smiles of embarrassment when our eyes met.

When the last show ended, it was 6:30. We had to decide if we wanted to make the half-hour trip down the mountain to eat at one of the restaurants at the bottom or see what the Observatory Café had to offer. Not looking forward to a 70-minute round-trip (not including time for dinner), we settled for the sandwiches, wraps and kept warm dishes on the menu. Because open flames are a hazard to the massive telescopes above, no onsite cooking is allowed. Everything is either pre-packaged or kept warm on a hot bar.

I took my Chicken Caesar Wrap and Blaise took his Shepherd’s Pie out to the Sunset Terrace where we could eat while awaiting the aforementioned sunset at 8PM. We toasted each other with iced tea.

“I should have been smart and retrieved my sweater from the car when we went back down for lunch. You thought ahead and retrieved a shirt,” I lamented.

“If it gets really chilly, I’ll drape my shirt over your shoulders. I can withstand a little cool breeze in the evening.”

I thought back to the night before when Mateo threw his jacket over my shoulders while we waited outside the garage for Lori top pick me up. I must admit I was looking forward to visiting the Santa Monica Pier on Saturday with Mateo.

“Joey, did you hear what I said?” Blaise asked.

“Huh? Oh, yeah. Thanks, but I think I can persevere through the arctic night without a sweater. By the way, when is the sunset?”

After we watched the sunset from the terrace, we lined up for the Front Lawn Telescopes. The lines for viewing were far shorter than those for the 12-inch Zeiss Refracting Telescope located in the East Dome. You could see the massive line forming along the outdoor rooftop walkway leading up to the door of the dome. On the other hand, there were multiple portable telescopes set up on the front lawn and the wait time was probably ten minutes at most. I saw close-up details of the moon’s craters and mountains, bright planets like Jupiter and the rings of Saturn, even prominent stars and star clusters you could see from the northern hemisphere in the middle of summer.

The 20-minute drive from Griffith Park back home to Sherman Oaks was pretty silent. It had been an exhausting day, physically, and for Blaise apparently, emotionally. I didn’t know how I felt about him or Mateo for that matter. In the final analysis (as Bobby Kennedy liked to say), it hardly mattered. I was going back to New York to go to college…as a boy. Blaise was probably going to community college in Encino and forget all about me. Mateo was going to either become a rock star or continue working for his father at the dealership…and forget all about me. For me, it was a simple equation. Getting to be a girl this summer and enjoy the company of two cute guys was fun, fun, fun. “Till her Daddy takes the T-Bird away…”

As I got out of the car, Blaise asked, “Do you have any plans for the weekend, like Saturday?”

I thought for a moment. I decided to dodge the question because I didn’t want to create another scene.

“Not sure. Probably not but Lori might want to go to that swap meet…El Mercadito in East LA. Her family’s mostly in East LA, you know. So, I can’t say for sure.”

“OK. Thought I’d ask. See you next week then.”

“Where we going?”

“It’s a surprise.” He gunned the engine and sped off down Beverly Ridge Drive.