Page 52 of Tinder B@ng

Tala and I wind our way through the cars, judging them by our own made up criteria, which includes how uptight the owner looks.

“That one has a whole watermelon up his ass, never mind a carrot.” Tala snickers. Some of these pieces of automotive history have ‘for sale’ signs on them, others have a row of trophies they’ve won displayed beside them. This one has a man with a pocket-watch protecting it. “It looks like he came with the car, he’s a 1901 model,” Tala says, and I laugh now, because she’s not wrong.

“I can see the appeal,” I say. Because I can, I like old things.

“You do not need an old-ass car. You do not need an old-ass car,” Tala says. “Repeat after your daughter—” I just laugh at her. If I wanted one, I’d already have one, or ten. I prefer collecting stamps because they take up less space and are worth more in the long term — I also don’t have to polish them.

“Tala, if I wanted a classic car to go with my midlife Tinder-crisis, I’d already have one. I don’t want one, they’re just nice to look at.” She pulls a face.

“Most of them are sort of ugly, Dad. There’s only like two I’d be caught dead in.” She points to a classic 1962 Aston Martin DB4GT “That one, and—” She points to a 1959 Ferrari 250GT Coupe that I was eyeing earlier, “That sexy silver one that Channing is sitting in. The rest are hideous.”

Channing looks like she was born to drive it, her smile, everything about her glows in the car. I can tell they’re laughing and joking. The car owner is only indulging them because they’re pretty young women. Anyone else would have been told off for putting fingerprints on it. I watch her from the corner of my eye as we walk around, careful not to walk the same way they’re going. She keeps looking at the Ferrari, she’s enamored with the car. I have seen that same glint in her eye — only I saw it in the bedroom. I can even imagine her driving around in the car, it would suit her. Even though no one in the city needs a car, has a car, or even wants one. Channing in that car is a picture my mind likes too much.

They’re starting off the scavenger hunt with great fanfare when Tala says, “I’m just going to pop back to my room, I need the loo. I’ll meet you back here in a bit.” She leaves me alone. Unsupervised in the middle of what is like a middle-aged-man’s candy store. After a few minutes of watching the start of what looks like the ‘Wacky Racers’ with their goggles and leather driving gloves. I continue to stroll around the concours cars. Still looking at Channing wherever our paths cross close enough, she’s caught me once or twice now. She and her friends seem to be having as much fun as Tala was mocking the old men and their cars. When I find myself walking by the Ferrari for a third time, I stop.

Why the fuck not?

It has a ‘for sale’ sticker on it, so I ask, “How much is it?”

“If you have to ask, you can’t afford it.” The owner eyes my visible tattoos and khaki shorts. I pull out my phone from my pocket.

“I can do a transfer now; do you have the papers with you?” His eyes bug and he stutters, scratching about to get his bank details and the papers. I don’t need or want a classic car, but Channing is turning thirty today, and some milestones deserve milestone gifts. I don't care if we’re together or not, or if I never see her again. I want to give her this car. And I can. I am concluding my purchase when Tala comes back.

“Ten minutes, I left you for ten minutes and you bought an old ass car!” she mocks me.

“It’s not for me.”

“For me?” She looks horrified; I know she’d rather have a horse-horse than a prancing horse. “I have a car.”

“No, it’s for Channing. She’s thirty today, and I can’t go to her birthday dinner empty-handed. In case you didn’t notice, they don't even have a gift shop here.”

“You said you weren’t going. Have you had a stroke?” She looks horrified. “I can ask them to call an ambulance.”

“I’m fine, Tala. I am allowed to change my mind. I am a grownup.”

“Rather impulsive thing to do for a grownup.” Tala looks like she’s upset. “Especially since she DUMPED you.”

“Tala, sometimes it’s nice to give without expecting to get.”

“Yes to charities, not girls who dumped you because you have children.” I don’t have a good reason for why I did it, it is impulsive and wildly outside of my usual behavior, but I wanted to. I don't need more reason than that. “I’m not going to that dinner with you. I’ll order in to my room.”

“That’s fine, Tala. It’s my money, I can do what I want with it.” There’s an apartment building worth three times what the car cost waiting for her birthday next weekend. It’s time to teach them about long term investing, and making their money work for them. “I really like Channing, even if she doesn’t like me back. I saw her in the car and she looked happy — it’s not wrong to want to make someone happy.”

“I guess so.” She shakes her head. “You do you, Dad.” I wonder if she’s upset that I didn’t buy it for her.

“Did you want the car?” She looks at me like I am speaking French.

“No, fuck, no. I don’t want an old car, Dad. I’m just shocked is all. You never do spontaneous crazy shit.” I don’t. And I should. It feels so good! I can’t wipe my smile away just thinking about giving Channing the key and papers to her car tonight. I am like a child trying to keep a secret.

Once I’ve bought a car, and looked at the others, the whole car-show thing becomes boring, and Tala reminds me that we have an appointment at the spa. A good massage and some time in the steam room are exactly what I need.

I’m waiting in the lobby for Tala, when Channing’s ditsy friend comes in, the one that invited me to dinner. She freezes like a deer in headlights when I step in front of her.

“Umm, hi,” she says, looking for a way past.

“My dinner plans have changed, I’d love to join you for Channing’s birthday.” She smiles nervously at me. “If the invitation still stands.” She stands there with a mouth full of teeth for a few seconds mulling over what I’ve said.

“Okay, sure. Great. Ah, I think we said seven.” She looks nervous, like I am making her jumpy.