College Dreams Deferred

Log Title: College Dreams Deferred

Characters: Spike, Sparkplug, Roland 

Location: Off the Gulf Coast

Date: 1984

TP: Flashback TP

'''Summary: Sparkplug has always had dreams of his eldest son going to college. But his son's unexpected good performance on the oil rig, plus a possible offer from an investor to fulfill a lifelong dream complicates Sparkplug's feelings about his son's future. '''

As logged by Spikewitwicky

Somewhere...off the Gulf Coast
1984 - Oil rig. Three weeks into their gig. Spike and Sparkplug are in Roland's office. Sparkplug may know why they're in, but Spike certainly does not. Roland gets up from his desk as main manager of the entire project. He looks at Spike and sighs. "So...in short..." He looks at Sparkplug. "I just don't think you're cut out for janitorial work..."

Spike 's eyes widen in fear he looks at his dad and stammers. "Wait...wait...if there's...if I'm doing something wrong. Mr. Skibbe, gimmie a cha - " But Roland cuts him off. "No, son. I've made up my mind...you're not cut out for janitorial...so...I'm thinking...maybe...up on the surface...in engineering." He pauses and says "Not on your dad's team though, we don't want people thinking it's favoritism!"

Spike looks over at Sparkplug and his jaw gapes. Did he get get...promoted? Roland gives a stern look at the 14-year-old. "Remember though...the moment someone asks you...you were born in 1968, not 1970 !"

Spike nods. "Yes...yessir!"

Sparkplug smiles at his son, and his deep pride is evident. "You're on your own up there, son," he warns. "If you can't hack it, you'll be right back below with a mop," he laughs, glancing at Roland. "I won't be bailin' ya out," he chuckles.

Roland gestures Spike out the door. "Be up deck at 6 a.m. sharp tomorrow. I'll give you instructions then." He gestures Spike out. "I need to talk to your dad for a second..."

Roland shuts the door and looks at Sparkplug. Now, with the two alone, he pulls out two glasses, and finds his own stash of bourbon. "So...William - I told you I'd try to help you out with your...finances. Again, when this gig is over, I'll see about arranging some full-time work." He pours a shot of bourbon, ans passes it on to one of his most reliable employees. "However...tomorrow...there may be some investors present." He takes a sip. "And...I 'MAY' have mentioned that there's a need for a good, solid mechanic in the Portland area who would do great with his own business."

Sparkplug politely accepts the drink, although he doesn't even sip it -- his attention focused on the words of his boss. Sparkplug's eyes narrow with interest. "What exactly are you saying, Roland? What do you need me to do?" He sets the drink down, his mind turning over the financial opportunities present in each option.

Roland shrugs and smirks. "William...that's entirely up to you..." He adds "All I know is that the best way out of poverty is to be your own boss." He sighs "It'd suck losing you, but if you were serious about opening your own auto repair shop..." He shrugs. "I could line up an interview while they're visiting tomorrow."

Sparkplug's eyes open wide in disbelief. "You're not kidding!" he exclaims. "Roland... that would mean the world to me! Are you sure? I mean, you're already helping me out with Spike..." Sparkplug stands again, not even realizing he's doing it.

one week later...

One week later - Spike's actually doing a pretty good job above ground. Another day has ended. Spike walks past a few rig workers, on the way to the him and his father's resting quarters. But Roland opens his office door just as Spike passes. "Witwicky! Got a sec?"

Spike practically jumps out of his boots and begins to run an inventory of what he did wrong today. He didn't have the right wrenches initially, but he knew where the right ones were. He knew where the safety manuals were. Spike slowly walks in and watches as Roland closes the door. He then goes to his personal fridge and pulls out a Coke for himself and hands Spike a Dr. Pepper. A rare treat on the platform.

"Your team says you've been doing a pretty good job, catching on,"

Spike gulps and takes a nervous sip of Dr. Pepper. "Th..thanks. I really like the team - "

Roland frowns and Spike and waves a hand. "Relax kid, you're not in trouble."

Spike takes a breath for whae he seemed to hold since he entered Roland's office.

Roland looks at the younger Witwicky and sets his Coke down at his desk.

"So, son, when you get back home - what are you going to do? Not like school, but like...after high school?"

Spike blinks, surprised to hear Roland possess even an iota of interest in his own future. He gives a weak grin. "Well, I was planning on maybe going to the University of Oregon. Or Portland State. And...maybe studying to be a writer, or like journalism and be a reporter."

Roland looks on and gives a barely audible grunt. "Huh..."

Spike waited for Roland to add something. But all he did was take another sip of Coke. Roland looks outside the window, his own view to the oil platform. "I suppose that makes sense, your mom...she was quite the reader, wasn't she?"

Spike looks down at his utility boots. "Yes sir..."

Roland gestures, "Son, I don't know you. But I gotta say, I do know talent when I see it. You catch on. You take orders well. And I know you like to work with machines. Ever thought of working for Blackrock full-time after you graduate high school?"

Spike makes a face and scratches his unkempt hair. "I guess..." He adds "I mean, I like the work here. Most of the people are cool."

Roland nods. "Do you know what the average salary is for a reporter, Spike?"

Spike shakes his head.

"11,000 a year. Do you know what the average salary of a worker is here?"

Spike shakes his head again.

"23,000"

Spike's eyes widened. Roland smirks. "Got your attention, huh?"

Roland takes another sip of his Coke. "Son, I'm not going to tell you what you should or shouldn't do. But I can tell you that you can make, maybe not $23,000 a year right out of high school, but probably $18,000 without so much as taking a class. But if you work here and take something like welding, I bet you could be making $20,000 a year before you are 20."

Roland continues. "Now, I know it's not as glamarous as an author. But honestly, a helluva lot of people need energy in their homes than another book to read." He scratches his neck. "But there's another path as well open for you."

Spike tilts his head. "Sir?"

Roland gestures to the door. "Your dad...met with some people today. They're investors. I told them that your dad is the best mechanic on this operation, but what he'd really like to do is open his own repair shop." He nods to Spike. "The investors were very interested, but I'm guessing that in order for your dad to do something like that, he couldn't do it on his own, he'd need a partner. Someone who could help him the day you get out of high school."

Spike's eyes widened. He knew Sparkplug has dropped hints about opening his own shop, but he hadn't heard him speak of it in months. Any talk about future always revolved around college.

Roland gave Spike a steely glance. "Promise me though, you won't bring this up to your dad," Spike interrupts "But wh -" Roland frowns "Because if you bring it up, your dad's going to tell you to keep focused on college. Even though I know it's been his lifelong dream to run his own auto place. If you bring it up, he's just going to push you into college, where I know he'd rather have you on board. Now promise me you won't say anything!"

Spike nods eagerly. "No sir!" Roland points to the window. "You lie to me...let's just say that I've thrown my share of bad employees overboard. I won't think twice of doing it again" he gives Spike a smirk.

Spike gulps, not knowing if his dad's boss was serious or not.

Roland walks to the door to open it. "Also, don't worry about your mom. I'm sure she'd want what's best for both you and your dad." He gestures to the younger Witwicky. "And you know what? Some of the best writers live their life at a university. They had real jobs like this. Kurt Vonnegut, Agatha Christie...they had jobs similar to what you're doing."

Spike's eyes widen. "Really?!" Roland nods and opens the door. "All right, think about what I said. Just remember, success has a lot of lanes. Not all of them run through college, son."

Spike walks back to his quarters, mulling over the day and the advice just given to him. sSpike already sees his dad in their quarters. He knocks "Uh...dad...do you have a sec?"

Sparkplug looks up from the blueprints he's studying. The opportunity Roland presented hasn't distracted Sparkplug from his work. Quite the opposite - Sparkplug is putting in longer hours as if trying to prove Roland's faith in him. He smiles as Spike enters the cabin. "What's up, son?" he asks warmly.

Spike sits down. He folds his hands, obviously giving this a lot of thought. "Well...you know I've been talkin' about goin' to college an' maybe bein' like a journalist or a writer..." He pauses. "But...Roland has been sayin' I've been doin' a pretty good job up here. And he's said how much money I could make like...right out of high school...and..." He breathes out. "I dunno...maybe...college...like...isn't for me."

The temptation is even more for Sparkplug with his own finances. But at what cost? Having his son abandoned maybe following in his mother's shoes, but most likely the youngest brother is destined that path. But for Spike and Sparkplug, this new path may be a road to stability.

Sparkplug's head snaps back in surprise. "Spike?" he asks. "What are you saying? We've been working towards your college dreams for years! Getting you into college is all I've thought about since..." Sparkplug trails off. Conflict is etched across his face. His desire to see Susan's wishes fulfilled. His own values of hard, blue-collar dignified work. This sudden surprise change of heart from Spike. "Are... are you sure, son?" he asks at last.

Spike, at least before this trip, sort of envisioned getting out of a life of mechanical work, and maybe doing his mom proud by being a writer. But the past few weeks, he's seen his work rewarded, and what's more...he's actually liked it. He gives his dad an honest look and nods. "Roland...said...there are like...famous writers who were like foremen, accountants and like bricklayers." He gives a sideways smirk and shrugs. "I dunno...I mean, it's not for another few years but..." He shrugs "I just think...like...maybe with your help, I already found my callin'"

Slowly the conflict fades from Sparkplug's eyes, and his face smooths out into a smile. "Son," he says sincerely. "If that's your choice, I'd be more than happy to show you the ropes. Sparkplug & Son... there's nothing we couldn't accomplish!" he says with swelling pride.

Spike beams at that. He then goes to bed, exhausted at the end of the day. He quickly drifts off to sleep. If Sparkplug puts his faith in Roland, Spike puts his faith in Sparkplug, not knowing about the investment opportunity awaiting his dad. If he thinks this is the best route, maybe it is time to stop dreaming of becoming a writer and do something actually useful.