1982 Shop Class

Saffron Dupont didn’t look like any freshman. She towered over most of her classmates. With her choice of boots and sky-high hair. She didn’t take the bus, ever. As it never stopped even close to her house. Artemus Ward, her best friend's Dad alternated dropping her and Theo off, and picking them up with her own Mums. Though Saffron had known a bunch of her classmates all her life, few admitted to knowing her. Without parental pressure to be nice to a valued work colleague's daughter. She was the weird girl whose parents didn't live in the Loop employees' suburb, with the lavish large modern houses, and above-ground pools. Her Mothers lived in the middle of the creepy panther swamp. Saffron acted like an outsider. She was proud of her heritage and to be of Acadian birth from Louisiana, and most of the locals here were very proud about being from Mississippi. Today was freshman induction, and Saffron had to sign up for elective classes. It was odd for someone with her PhD parents to be heading straight for the vocational section.
Saffron found the office number she was looking for. It bore the insignia of a flying wheel. The logo of the US Army transportation corps, as well as the state flag of Louisiana. She knocked. 
“Yup, Come on in” 
A voice drawled behind it 
Behind a desk weighed down with schematics, manuals and lesson plans sat a rotund gentleman in maybe his late forties. His hair was jet black and messy. His face was weathered and as soon as he saw her, he had a curious expression. 
“You new missy? What can old Bubba do for you?”
The man asked, munching on an unlit cigar. This must be the fearsome Mr Duke the Autopshop teacher. He didn’t suffer fools gladly. Theos people were referred to by the colourful terms of either Knuckleheads or Lugnuts. 
“I’m Saffron Dupont, I want to sign up for shop.”
Saffron placed the form on a clear-ish area of the desk. Duke observed her immaculate black fingernail polish. She didn’t look like the usual kind of Knucklehead he got in here. She moved with purpose, held herself with decorum, head high shoulders back. 
“Dupont? Your people are the same Duponts from down below New Orleans?”
He asked a flash of recollection on his face. The folks down the Bayou told a lot of stories about that family. 
“I certainly am.”
She assured him. He hopped up from behind the desk and cleared a seat for her on the couch that dominated one side of the cluttered and cramped office, not much bigger than a store cupboard. An old jeep carburettor had sat there on the school newspaper. It looked like it had come from an army surplus store. 
“Then do you have any wrenching experience, Mademoiselle Dupont?”
He inquired. Addressing her by the proper term for a woman of such standing. He’d taught farm girls to wrench here before, back before the Loop had put most farmers out of business, and relocated them. They’d all been a joy to teach. Listened, not like some of the boys who often thought they knew better. 
“Oui un peu, I help Mr Priest at the Service Station, out by the crossroads. Not very complex work. Tyres and Batteries mainly, some recoveries in the swamp. I also work on the Ward Farm for Artemus Ward. I started driving and rebuilding his tractors with some help when I was ten.”
Duke had heard of the Ward fella, he was one of the few farmers who stayed on his family land. Tried to make a go of it. His daughter was a physics whiz. RJ Priest was a curious fellow who kept mostly to himself. Good mechanic though. 
Saffron took out a coffin-shaped case and began to show Mr Duke photos of her progress tearing down and rebuilding International and Farmall machines and tractors. If he had been grading the project he would have to find something better than an A. He was glad that no one took his class for an easy A. Or this girl was going to trash their GPA. 
“My Grandmere is going to help me buy a muscle car, so I can have it ready for when I’m fifteen. Until then I have my friend Theo’s truck to finish.”
Mr Duke looked impressed at the photos, that was clearly this tiny Goth girl doing all the work. He just hoped he had something left to teach her. She really could shine any old rust bucket and have it looking showroom new. That was talent. 
“What are you getting, not a Mustang?”
He looked like he was sucking a lemon when he said the name of a Ford model. 
 
Saffron shook her head vigorously. Not a strand of purple hair moved. 
“AMC Javelin as soon as I can find the right one.”
He nods again. Not a predictable choice. He liked that. 
“They make a robust Jeep, so that’s good enough for me.”
He whipped his hand on his work shirt with Bubba on the sewn-on name tag, then shook her hand daintily like the southern gent he Mamma raised him to be. 
“Welcome aboard. You can use mah shop any time you want Mademoiselle Dupont. Principal makes me do a ‘safety’ induction”
He said with scorn. 
“Otherwise the keys are in the safe outside, the number is when Louisiana became the greatest state in the union. After hours just let Chuck the security guy know I sent ya, and your name will be on the list. Just no dangerous stuff on your own.” 
He said sternly and showed her the key safe in the hall. 
“If you need anything just knock real loud on my door though. I’m usually in here or there.”
He indicated the locked doors to the Autoshop. 
“Need to finish the Jeep CJ I want to sell, if you can spare some time.” 
He rustled with the keys and opened several locks ushering Saffron into his domain. It was a little bigger than RJ Priest’s shop at the fuel station. It had a little more bench space for classes to gather around. A lifted Jeep with panel damage stood in the middle of the shop. Bonnet and off wings. Could have hit a tree or a fence post. 
“Going to fix her up real nice, and sell it to a Sophomore.” 
Saffron looked at the panel beating gear
“Can you work a press?”
He asked 
“I’ve done panel beating and fabrication on my friend's truck. It’s a Hudson so body panels are hard to come by.” 
Saffron explained 
“Well this only needs to look good from across the lot, so you can get some more practice on it.”
Mr Duke seemed glad to have another pair of hands. Make his life easy early in the semester instead of having to watch dumb kids like a hawk so they didn’t lose fingers or a hand. 
“Well if you want to bring that truck around, you can park it in the shop bays out front. Goes for any car you buy too.”
He grinned a big toothy grin. Some other shop teachers thought it was a bad omen to teach girls to do a man's job. Well, they were darned wrong. Any student that passed through this shop would be able to change a flat. That and would be able to do basic maintenance on any vehicle. He was eye to eye with the Drivers Ed teacher on that. 
“Thanks, getting stuff out to my place in the Swamp is a pain. Well apart from airboats.”
Mr Duke chuckled 
“You’ve been holding out on old Bubba. You have a shop in the Swamp? At fourteen years old.”
Mr Duke turned a key in a breaker box and flicked on the power to the machines. 
“You signed up for all your classes?”
He enquired
“You’re my last one.”
Saffron assured, just needed to get the sheet back to the office.
“As a gamblin' man I’d wager you have your own overalls, so go change and I’ll put you to work. Get that class sign-up sheet where it has to go and come on back here.” 
Well, Bubba thought to himself, this was shaping up to be a decent first day back on the job. New star pupils didn’t turn up so often. Looks like he might be on easy street for the next four years. He’d make a little money above and beyond his teacher's salary. He never liked shop classes that wheeled in the same old clunkers every year. When he got here he’d done those 50’s cars up, that had appreciated in value, and he’d sold them on to collectors and hot rodders. Something he now does every year. Buy some wrecks from the insurance company's auctions or salvage yards. Have the kids fix them, then the faculty could get new cars for a low price plus trade-in, and the Sophomores could get cheap reliable first cars as well. It was more a public service than a way to make money. Wheeling and dealing got the blood pumping. Better than going to any casino.