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This one stuck a cord with me right away. I give you 533 words of

Love and Transportation

Sitting on a dog sled, watching the Great North whoosh by gave Ray Kowalski time to think. He thought about how all the really important moments of his life had taken place on one mode of transport or another. He'd asked his mother once if she recalled the circumstance of his conception. After several minutes of blushes and stutters, she told Ray while she couldn't be entirely certain, it could well have been on the train that she and his father took to Niagara Falls for their honeymoon.

Ray thought up the best answer yet to the eternal 'What's your sign?' question. He was going to answer: I'm not sure what sign I was born under, but I think was Dining Car in opposite direction. He never got to use it. By the time he was old enough to go to the types of places where one got asked, the fad had passed. Plus, he was with Stella.

The Stella. They'd lost their virginity together in the back seat of the Goat. He'd proposed to Stella while sitting in the front seat in front of her college dorm. They had honeymooned on a cruise to the Bahamas. Stella had been seasick from the moment they stepped on to the ship until they docked back in Miami. She'd spent the whole trip lying on the bed in their cabin with the curtains drawn.

While that might sound romantic and spending the whole cruise in their cabin may have been right up Ray's alley, the reality was pretty gross and boring. Holding your wife's head while she throws up and making excursions for more Dramamine wasn't what Ray had in mind at all. It was in another car, a stupid Ford Taurus that she insisted they buy, where Stella broke the news that she wanted a divorce.

Then there was Fraser. The very first day they met, Ray drove a flaming Buick Riviera into the lake they call Michigan. They'd had a thing on a boat too. It ranked right up there on the scale of shitty times with the honeymoon cruise, except that's where Fraser had kissed him for the first time. Okay, so Fraser called it buddy breathing. It was still a kiss, in Ray's opinion. Anything that had to do with lips and tongues was a kiss in his book.

Ray jumped a motorcycle through a plate glass window when he thought Fraser was in danger. He'd even jumped on the wing of an airplane for Fraser, and had been thrown out of that same plane onto an ice field sans parachute. Now here he was on a dog sled mushing across the frozen north with an unhinged Mountie. There wasn't a car or a boat or even a plane in sight. Neither was there a sign of another human being within miles. Except maybe that crazy Delmar guy, you could never tell when he might show up. Though, Ray had been glad he had shown up when he did. Right now it was just he and Fraser and the dogs, and Stanley Raymond Kowalski couldn't have been happier. He loved Fraser; Fraser loved him. All was right with the world.


Big thanks to Karen/S for the title suggestion and the quick beta.