“Son, I’m going to teach you what it means to be respectful!”

“No, father, I didn’t do anything! Father no— no don’t hit me . . .”

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Looking back, I’m happy father hit me. That day I decided to be somebody. I just wanted out and away from my father, but at that time I was too young to live on my own so I had to deal with that wretched drunk.

My name is Elvis, John Elvis. This is my story.

It was 1935. I had just turned eighteen and was ready for my speedy migration away from my father. He beat me to a pulp when I was younger, and I detest him for it.

The only comfort I had as a young boy was with my friend and partner in crime, Alias. He prompted me to leave. He would say “John, you have so much talent, more than swindling and stealing from people in this city. You could be an auto mechanic just like you’ve always dreamed.” I had already built my own car, but never had I thought I would get these chances that were rapidly approaching.

“Finally!” I thought. I was on the road and wasn’t going to look back. I had just told my father “I’m going to California and never coming back!”

“Hmm… I never liked you anyway,” he retorted.

—————————————————————

I had been driving for twenty-four hours non-stop. I was quite tired and ready to find a place to stay when I come upon a car with a woman laying beside it. The lady looked like she was in pain, so I hopped out to see if I could help.

“Ma’am are you o—”

“I’m about to have a baby! Help me!”

I started freaking out, I had no idea how to deliver a baby. I had never even held a baby before.

“O . . . Okay,” I timidly said.

I did what I could and eventually, with some hard work and determination, she gave birth to a beautiful boy. I held the baby and at that moment I knew I wanted a family eventually. After my thought had subsided, I gave the child back to his mother.

“Thank you so much . . .?” She said through her joyous tears.

“Elvis, John Elvis.” I replied.

“That’s a beautiful name you have. Since you helped deliver my baby boy I would really like to name him after you.”

“I would be honored” I replied smiling.

“Perfect, Elvis Presley.” she said. “Has a nice ring to it, doesn’t it?”

“Agreed.”

She thanked me and asked if I could take her to some relatives that lived thirty miles from here. It was in the right direction so I dropped her off and luckily they had an extra room.

The next morning I left Elvis’ mother a note telling her my plans, letting her know if she needed anything else that I could help with, send me a letter. I got in my car and her pup tried to follow, I said “bud, you can’t come with me, if you were a human or even a smaller dog you could come, but you ain’t nothing but a hound dog.”

—————————————————————

(Sounds of sirens)

“What’s going on?” I yelled as I woke up in a panic. The owner of the house, a tall chubby man, said “stay there son, don’t get any closer to the windows!”

As I looked at the windows, I noticed they were all boarded up. I ran and threw myself over the couch where the owner was sitting. I asked him to please explain what was going on.

“Well . . . We get these storms every once in awhile but never this bad. I believe this one will go down in history!”

“Okay . . . What kind of storm is it?”

“A sand storm,” he replied. “The worst one that has ever hit since I have been alive. People are already calling it ‘Black Sunday because of that cloud'” (The).

It took a few days for everything to get cleaned up. Luckily, I had thrown a tarp over my car.

I hoped in and took off down the road, I had to get to California.

—————————————————————

I stopped for one more night in a small town in Utah. In the morning, I was woken up by the sound of crowds yelling and cheering. I saw a man getting into a car, he had a helmet and jump suit on. I walked down to the street and asked “what in the world is going on here?”

“The man in the car right there, Sir Malcolm Campbell, is about to break the world record for speed!”

No way! “He would have to go over 280 miles per hour!”

“Exactly,” the man screamed back.

I was getting excited —I loved the speed of cars— this kind of thing was right down my alley, so I watched with great anticipation for the man to shatter the record. He turned the car on —that motor sounded like a angry lion— revved the engine and punched the gas. To the dismay of all, the motor blew up. The man jumped out and opened the hood. I already knew what had happened, I’d seen it before. I walked up to the car to see the damage, and I was right in my assumption.

“Hi, my name is John Elvis, I can fix your car.”

“Oh really?” He snorted. “You are what? Eighteen?”

“Actually, yes sir I am! And I have built a car from the ground up once already. It’s that one right there!” I pointed. “I know what I am doing when it comes to cars and speed. I know what happened to your car. Someone didn’t put oil in it, causing it to seize up and then blow a piston through your block.”

“Wow, you seem to know what you are doing, because that is exactly what happened! Does that offer still stand for you to help me?”

“Of course!” I responded.

Over the next few days, I was helping Malcolm fix, rebuild, and make his engine better overall.

A week later, it was time. Time for Sir Malcolm to beat the world record. I had a pep talk with him before hand, and I believed he was ready. He revved the engine, everyone cheered. He got ready, pulled the clutch in and punched the gas. “Whoosh” he took off down the road. Everyone waited in anticipation to find out the results of his “drag race”.

I knew he had done it, even before he started.

—————————————————————

“Elvis! We did it!”

“We? That was all you brother!”

That day would go down in history. Sir Malcolm Campbell had hit 301.129 miles per hour with flying colors. Even though he wanted me to go with him to receive his reward, I couldn’t. I had to get to California, that was were I wanted to open my car shop. I had a friend who was selling a garage and would only hold it so long for me. Malcolm understood and told me he would make the drive to my shop whenever he needed a tune up or fix.

—————————————————————

“Yes sir,” I said. “I can fix that in a few minutes.”

“That would be great! I have to make it to my opening showing of my latest cartoon.”

“Really?”

“Yes sir Mr. Mechanic Elvis! It’s the first time this character has been in a tricolor film, so I’m pretty excited.”

“Oh I’m sure!” I exclaimed as I finished fixing the little problem. “Here you go,” handing his keys back.

“Thank you very much young sir! Now here is your money and a ticket to the showing of the movie for your speedy service!”

“Well thank you!” I replied with a grin.

“I hope to see you there!”

“You as well Mr. . . .” I looked down at his signature to check his name, “Mr. Disney.”

Being able to go see the first tricolor Mickey Mouse movie was really cool. The film had Mickey conducting an orchestra, but he was failing because his friend Donald Duck kept interrupting.

After the movie, I went back to my garage that was also home. I started thinking about things. I know I had been building cars as an actual job for about a month. I wasn’t satisfied, I wanted something with more power. Something . . . Like a plane!

I stayed up and drew up all my plans for my plane. I started the next morning, luckily building new things came easy to me.

When I start on something, I don’t stop till I’m finished, so I had my plane done in seven weeks. I even got some publicity because people heard about my plane and wanted to come see the speed demon of plane builders. One reporter asked, “does it really fly? Or is it more of a replica?”

“Of course it flies! What would be the point of a plane that doesn’t?”

“True true,” the reporter replied. “Well I’m happy to hear that because I am a reporter and recruiter for Pan-American Airways. We would like to test your plane to possibly be the first to fly to the Philippines carrying mail!”

I was beyond happy when I found out that it was worthy.

My plane left from “San Francisco, California, and landed in Manila, Philippines” (Panko). It even made it back with mail for the people in the states.

Within a few weeks, I was contacted by some lady saying she was a pilot and needed a plane that could flown by one person across the Pacific. I thought it was crazy, but I was up for it if she really wanted to. I built the plane in another seven weeks like the last one, and it worked again, perfectly!

She made the flight, I saw her name everywhere, Amelia Earhart. She was nice when I met her, but she didn’t give me any credit for building her plane. Normally I wouldn’t care, but I thought this was a huge deal for a woman to “fly a plane solo across the Pacific” (The). So I’m not very good friends with her to say the least.

With that, she did give me a lot of money. The money I had earned from building her plane and the air mail plane and the little bit I got from Sir Malcolm, I was able to retire at age eighteen. I invited Elvis and his mother to stay with me because I needed some company in my home. In the end, I started dating Elvis’ mother. It’s crazy! I knew I would have kids and treat them great, loving them like my father never did. I never thought I would be the father of a famous musician like Elvis Presley though.

Works Cited

Panko, Ray. “Pan Am’s Pacific Clipper.” Pacificaviationmuseum.org. Pacific Aviation Museum,  14 Sept. 2011. Web. 22 Mar. 2016.

“The Year 1935 from the People History.” Thepeoplehistory.com. The People History,  2004. Web. 29 Feb. 2016.

Bibliography

Gillespie, Ric. Finding Amelia. Annapolis: Alcon Publication Design, 2006. Print.

Mickey Mouse, History Of. “History of Mickey Mouse.” Disneymouselinks.com. 2004. Web. 27 Mar. 2016.

Staff, History.com. “Babe Ruth Hits Last Home Run.” History.com. A&E Networks,  2009. Web. 29 Feb. 2016.