Chapter 1

Vacationing in London is everything I dreamed. I’ve been here for a week but still had 3 more to go. I’ve met so many interesting people and seen so many exciting things. I had a cup of in a small café, and went for a boat ride on the Thames. Tonight I was trying to convince my friend, who has done nothing but complain about how Germany was better the entire trip, to come to the pub with me.

“Do I have to go? We’ve been out all day, I just want to relax.” She said with a whine. “Oh, come on, how many times are we going to have the chance to go to a London pub? And it’s a Friday night. Maybe you’ll meet a cute guy,” I retaliated. She just gave me an eye roll and shook her head “No, I’m not going. You’re a big girl; you can go on your own.”

I shrugged and as I was walking out of our hotel room I heard her shout at me “Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do!” That’s not saying much, given her past history. I tried not to think of her as I got to the pub. Not as full as you would think on a Friday night, but I was ok with that. I walked up to the bar and the bartender came over to me and smiled “What’ll it be dear?”

I look at him shyly; he was an older man, slightly balding with kind eyes, “To be honest, I don’t know.” His smile widened as I spoke, “Oh you’re from the states! Well, I would have to recommend a pint of London Pride.” I smiled and shook my head and he poured me a pint. I paid the man, and took my glass to find a seat.

 I finally settled in a small table towards the back. .A bit nervous I took my first sip. To my great surprise it was quite tasty and very smooth. For a bit I just watched as people came and went and before I knew it I was out of beer. Wow, I never thought I would enjoy beer I rose from my seat in the corner and approached the bar for another pint. “Enjoy it?” the bartender asked warmly. “Oh yes, much better than the stuff we have in America,” I replied. He scoffed and said “If you can call that beer.” I gave a chuckle as I received my second glass and retuned to my seat to continue to people watch.

Not long after I had sat down a man walked in that I recognized almost immediately. It wasn’t the long, messy hair or those piercing blue eyes, no it was that pink and purple striped jumper. James May. I squealed on the inside, but kept calm on the squealed on the inside, but kept calm on the outside with a wide smile. He was alone; I always thought he would be surrounded by people.

The bartender greeted him warmly, apparently he came here often. I couldn’t help but stare at him, he was lovely, more so in person. As the man behind the bar was pouring him a pint, he looked around and caught my eye. He just stood there and looked at me and smiled. He thanked the bartender for his drink as he picked it up and moved towards me.

Oh God. Ok….keep calm……oh he’s coming over here

I watched as he came closer to me. When he was nearly to my table he said “Hello, is this seat taken?” gesturing toward the empty seat at my table. All I could do was shake my head no.

“Mind if I,” he began as he pulled out the chair. “No, go ahead,” was all I could say. I was smiling, and looked like a fool.

After seating himself and taking a drink, he held out his hand across the table to me, “I should probably introduce myself, I’m James. You’re from America, aren’t you?” I took his hand and shook it “Yes I am, how did you guess? Oh, and I’m Jamison.”

He smiled at me, still shaking my hand “Nice to meet you Jamison. And your accent gave it away.” I laughed, “You know, I’ve never thought of having an accent myself. But, then again, I forget that I’m not in my native land, I’m in yours.” He smiled at me, still slowly shaking my hand and stated “Yes you are, here you have the accent and we talk perfectly normally.” I giggled, our hands had stopped moving now, but were still together resting on the table. “You’ll hear no complaints from me; I love your perfectly normal talk. I love listing to people talk, especially non-American’s with wonderful accents.”  

This was fantastic. I was sitting here, talking with James May like we were old friends. He took another drink and asked, “So, is this your first time in London?” I lifted my glass as well and as I was setting it back down I answered, “Yes, my first time out of the country actually.” Our hands still sat on the table together. He looked into my eyes, and I into his, and I leaned in and said quietly “I know who you are.” He looked surprised, “Really? Who am I then?”

I looked deeply into his eyes, “You are my favorite Top Gear presenter.” He blinked and said with genuine astonishment, “Wow, you Americans get Top Gear? I mean Top Gear UK, I know you have a version of it over there.”

I chucked, “Yes we get it, and as far and I’m concerned it’s the ONLY Top Gear. The American version just isn’t watchable. Not without you and Jeremy and Richard.” He smiled, “I’m glad someone from over there has descent taste in telly, now what about cars?”

Cars. Was I really sitting here, in a pub, talking about cars with James May? I hummed quietly and looked at the table, then pulled my hand away from his, just realizing that they were still together. “Well, I think my favorite car is an Aston Martin DB9. The V12 engine, 469 break horsepower, naught to sixty in 4.6 seconds, and a top speed of 186 miles an hour. It’s everything I want in a car. And it’s a good looking car to boot.”

A sigh of relief came from the man sitting across from me, “And a fine taste in cars as well I see. I was afraid you were going to say a Mustang or some silly American sports car.”

I took another drink, “No, American’s don’t know how to make cars. Sure they look nice, but they can’t handle the corners. I also like the Ferrari f430. It’s a beautiful car, not to mention the 4.3 liter V8. The noise that car makes is almost intoxicating.”

James listen and hung on every word I said. “You know your cars,” he said as he finished his drink.

I smiled and fiddled with my hands in my lap, “I know cars, I can tell you the specs, but I’ve never been in one, or even seen one, except on Television and on the internet.”

“Ok then, what car do you drive back home?” he said resting his elbows on the table.

I looked at my drink, this glass was barely gone, “Well, I drive a 1999 Dodge Stratus,” I paused and picked up my drink and said into it, under my breath, “Named Oliver.”

He burst into laughter, and I had to set my beer back on the table because I had begun laughing as well. “Really? You named your car Oliver?”

I shook my head “Yes I did, after Richard’s Opel Kadette.” He laughed a little more before saying “That’s great! He really loves that car, I’m guessing you love yours? I mean to name a car is something special.”

“I do,” I said after a brief pause, “he’s the most reliable car I’ve ever had. That being said, he’s the only car I’ve ever had.”

We must have talked for hours, because it was 10 when I came into the pub and it was 2am when I was leaving. It was like talking to an old friend, very easy and seemed right. We talked about everything, my life back in Ohio, his life here and of course we talked a bit about Richard and Jeremy. We didn’t really drink much, I had 2 pints, I never bothered to get another one after James showed up, He had 2 maybe 3. We were just too busy talking.

As we were leaving he looked at me and asked, “How long are you going to be in London?” I pulled my jacket around me against the night air and said, “About another month or so, I don’t really have any plans. I’m booked in my hotel for another 3 weeks, after that I might go to Ireland or Scotland or somewhere. I just have always wanted to come here, no real reason, just to come and be here.” He smiled, “England is lovely, and you should see the county.”

I looked at my feet then back to James, “I want to, but given my sense of direction, if I went out I would get lost and end up in Germany.” He laughed and said sweetly, “If you need a guide I might be able to help.” He pulled out his phone “Do you have your cell on you?” I pulled it out of my pocket and said “Of course, I don’t go anywhere without it.” He held out his hand and typed some numbers in and then handed it back to me.

I smiled and so did he, “Well, I better get going,” I said reluctantly, “It was amazing meeting you Mr. May.” He held out his hand and I took it, as we shook hands he said “Please, call me James. I’ll see you around.”

With that, we let go of each other’s hands and he hailed a cab and I began walking toward the hotel. As I walked I wondered what he had put into my phone. So I took it out and looked then stopped dead in my tracks. He had put his number into my phone. I was so excited I did a little dance. Being 2 in the morning, no one was around to see me acting like a loon. Quickly I texted him, ‘This is Jamison, I didn’t get a chance to give you my number.’ I put the phone back in my pocket and a few minutes later it buzzed. Stopping again I took it out and looked at the new message, ‘Fantastic. Give me a ring when you want to see the county side, I would be happy to show you.’ My stomach did flips. James May, whom I had just met, was offering to take me to the English Country side. I texted back, ‘Sounds great. Just let me know a good time for you. I’m free all week.’