Harold and Maude Read Online Free Page A

Bye-bye.”
    â€œWait!” said Father Finnegan, but his voice was lost in the screeching of tires and a roar of exhaust as Maude sped off in the hearse and turned the corner.
    Harold picked himself off the floor and looked out of the window. The gravestones merged together in a flickering blur of gray. Maude came to the entranceof the cemetery and spun out onto the main road. Cruising at about sixty miles an hour, she settled back and relaxed.
    â€œWhat a delight it is, Harold,” she said, “to bump into you again. I knew we were going to be great friends the moment I saw you. You go to funerals often, don’t you?”
    Harold had one hand braced on the dashboard and the other on the back of the seat. “Yes,” he answered, without taking his eyes off the road.
    â€œOh, so do I. They’re such fun, aren’t they? It’s all change. All revolving. Burials and births. The end to the beginning, the beginning to the end. The great circle of life.”
    She made a sudden left-hand turn that sent a terrified Volkswagen into a heart-stopping change of lanes. “My, this old thing handles well. Ever drive a hearse, Harold?”
    Harold swallowed. “Yes,” he said hoarsely.
    â€œWell, it’s a new experience for me.”
    She raced over a small hill, causing Harold’s head to bounce repeatedly on the ceiling, and then made another sudden left-hand turn that threw the rear wheels into a momentary slide.
    â€œNot too good on curves,” she exclaimed, and put her foot down on the gas. “Shall I take you home, Harold?”
    Harold, halfway between the seat and the floor, blurted out faintly, “But this is my car.”
    â€œYour hearse?”
    â€œYearse!”
    Maude stepped on the brakes and skidded to a dusty halt in the gravel by the side of the road. She looked over at him. “Fancy that,” she cooed. “My, my. Then you shall take me home.”
    H AROLD DROVE SLOWLY and carefully as he listened to Maude elaborate on her system of acquiring cars.
    â€œAfter his release from the penitentiary, Big Sweeney began work in a printing shop, where I met him and we became friends. Then when he received ‘the call’ and left for the monastery in Tibet, he gave his collection of keys to me, as a present. Wasn’t that nice? Of course, I’ve had to make some additions for the newer models, but not as many as you might think. Once you have your basic set, it’s only a question of variation.”
    â€œDo you mean with that ring of keys you get into any car you want and just drive off?”
    â€œNot
any
car. I like to keep a variety. I’m always looking for the new experience, like this one. I liked it.”
    â€œThank you.”
    â€œYou’re welcome. Oh, there’s my house over there.”
    Harold pulled the hearse over and stopped before a clapboard cottage with a walnut tree in the front yard. Several other old houses stood nearby on spacious lots, some with barns or stables in the back, but across the street and on down the hill the land had been subdivided. The houses there looked very much alike, all small, boxlike, and crowded together.
    â€œLooks as if the weather has cleared up,” said Maude, getting out of the hearse. Harold closed her door. He was still troubled.
    â€œBut when you take these cars,” he asked, “don’t you think you are … well, wronging the owners?”
    â€œWhat owners, Harold? We don’t
own
anything. It’s a transitory world. We come on the earth with nothing, and we go out with nothing, so isn’t
ownership
a little absurd? I wonder if the post has come.”
    She opened up a wooden box on the porch and took out the mail.
    â€œOh, look. More books. I just sign their cards and they keep sending them to me. I received an encyclopedia in Dutch last week. Here, hold them, Harold, would you please?”
    Harold took the books while Maude glanced