Not In The Bathtub

Words: 730

Theirs was an 'arranged' match. The families were suitable to each other, and the community matchmakers approved of the union. As a concession to the modern outlook, they had been permitted to exchange photographs before their first meeting and each was given the other's phone number. They had met - at first chaperoned, and then by themselves. It didn't take them long to fall in love with each other. Their engagement party was a grand one amidst much rejoicing.

Then he had to go back to his job in another state, and she stayed behind with her parents. She'd join him there once they were wed. Each waited eagerly for the day.

They exchanged passionate letters. Phone-calls, expensive at so-many-rupees-for-three-minutes, were few and far between.

"They've opened the new track!" he announced in a thick missive one day. "They're going to start a motor race club! I'm joining!"

"My darling," she cautioned back, "motor racing? Are you going to buy a new car? Won't that be expensive?"

"No," she read a week later, in his response. "It won't be expensive. I'm going to make some modifications on my car and race it."

Being a modern female, she was interested in cars. "What are you going to do to the car? Will you be able to drive it to work each day properly?"

Minutely, he described the changes he was making, with sketches. That letter was fatter than normal and cost more postage. His future mother-in-law, handing it to her daughter, tut-tutted at the price, but secretly smiled about how much her to-be son-in-law loved his betrothed. The letter must contain praises of the charming young girl.

It did contain praises of the charming young girl, but only about two per cent of it. The rest was devoted to the car. The charming young girl didn't mind. He was sharing his life with her, he was treating her like she knew and understood the mechanics of it, which she did. The car would be okay to drive to work with the usual amount of fuel consumed. Then, on race day, modified so it could speed up, consuming more fuel as a trade off. The folks at the garage were keen on the experiment.

"I have to name this car. I'm going to call it The Bathtub," he wrote.

"Not The Bathtub, my love." She was firm on this point. "If you win it'll be all over the papers that you won in The Bathtub. My friends would tease me something awful."

He named the car Hurly Burly Buss instead. His fiancee was pleased.

The result of the race merited a phone call. He even paid for six minutes instead of three. His future mother-in-law was thrilled at how he adored her daughter, and flabbergasted that he would spend so-many-rupees to tell her so.

He did say "I love you" but he mostly described the race.

"The others all had proper race cars, but Hurly Burly Buss and I, we showed them!!"

"Did you win?"

"Listen. It was ten laps. Ten."

"Ten laps, yes. Did you win?"

"They flagged us off - twenty five competitors we were."

"Twenty five. Did you win?"

"So we started. I was initially in fourth."

"In fourth. But you finally won?"

"Then old Hurly Burly Buss and I put on a burst of speed and overtook one guy and then the next."

"Did you win?"

"We led for eight-and-a-half laps."

"Wow - so you won?"

"We led for eight-and-a-half laps. The crowd was cheering. The FINIS flag was in sight. I had only half a lap to go."

She was silent.

"With half a lap to go, something went wrong. I guess I'd pushed good old Hurly Burly Buss beyond her limit. She had a much modified engine after all."

She was silent.

"Anyway, she stopped. Suddenly. The guy was holding the FINIS flag and waiting there with his mouth open but I couldn't get to him. Nothing would budge Hurly Burly Buss."

"So you didn't win?" she whispered.

"I got out of the car. I began to push. One guy overtook, then another. But I pushed that car third to the FINIS flag. Hurly Burly Buss and I were on the winners' podium!"

She showed her friends the Sports Page the next day.

"Ardent Racer pushes Hurly Burly Buss to third place finish."

Phew.

It didn't say 'The Bathtub'.