Wednesday, November 12, 2008

First Road Trip (Part II)

Everything happened so fast. Jeff was oblivious to the situation, half drunk in the passenger seat. I was running on pure instinct and adrenaline. I saw everything as if it were in slow motion, so what in reality happened in twenty seconds, seemed to be twenty minutes.

Immediately , I went into damage control mode. "Hide the empties and dump your beer. Stay in the car. I'll be right back", I commanded. I got out and surveyed the damage. There was a little streak of red paint on the bumper, but that was it. I looked back toward the Camaro. The driver was running the 100 yards from the Camaro toward me at full speed. "Are... you...OK?" the driver asked, breathless. He was a big, black man. He smelled of cologne and was dressed all in black which accentuated the gold chains hanging from his thick neck. "Yeah, we're OK", I creaked, afraid he was going to go off on me. "You got kids in there?". "No, just me and a friend". " Man, I didn't see your blinker 'till I was going by you, then I was in that field. Thanks for speeding up man, you saved my ass". "Yeah", I said confused, realizing that he was not mad at me. "You need money for damages?", he pulled out a roll of what looked like twenties the size of a baseball. "Naw, naw its just a little paint on the bumper." "Well, here is something for it. I gotta get back there. Alright". He handed me forty bucks then turned around and sprinted back to his Camaro. I stood watching him, dumbfounded. Jeff got out of the car and asked "What the fuck is going on?". "The guy just gave me money". The Camaro went speeding by and let out a long and loud beep. The rear bumper was scrapping the pavement sending sparks flying ten feet out from behind the tail fin. We got back in the car and back on the road. Jeff chastised me for not getting more money off the guy. "He was obviously a drug dealer and wanted to keep us quiet" Jeff espoused, as if he was familiar with lots of drug dealers. I stared forward at the road, sipping on my tallboy, absorbing the recent events.

We pulled up to my grandmother's house around 4 PM. My Aunt Rosie answered the door and gave me a big hug. I introduced her to Jeff and she lead us in. My Uncle Mac was sitting in his recliner,as usual, watching some college football. I said "Hi" as I walked by and he said "hi" back. My aunt and uncle never married and lived with their mom out of convenience, not necessity. My gram was in the kitchen folding laundry she had just taken in off the clothesline. I gave her a big squishy hug and she offered us something to drink. "How about a beer?" Jeff blurted, stupidly. I shot him a dirty look. My grandmother seemingly oblivious to his request grabbed some glasses and said "How 'bout some tonic?". I nodded and she poured us a couple of Cokes. My Aunt was not so oblivious. She remained silent, but gave me a "I know what you're up to" look. Jeff and I went to the parlour and sat down with my uncle to watch football. After an hour of watching football and talking football my grandmother came out to offer us dinner. I sheepishly declined saying we had plans. "What are you doing tonight?", my aunt piped up, smiling as if she were the cat that ate the canary. "Just meeting some girls I know from 4H and Camp...there's...a...a party", I stumbled, not wanting to give away too much without outright lying. "Are you going to be drinking at this party?", now my uncle and grandmother seemed to be paying more attention. "No, no maybe I'll have one or two...". "Just be careful" she interrupted my bullshit in mid-bullshit. Jeff and I took our cue and got up to leave for our night of broads and booze. I promised I wouldn't be out too late.

Yeah, right.


Suldog said...

Hey, $40 would buy you... well, something decent, in those days. Can't wait to hear more.

Mushy said...

Nice wrap up...loved the story and the details "He smelled of cologne..."!

Anali said...

You are quite the storyteller! I can't wait to read the rest!

Oh, and I haven't heard the word "burnout" in a while. Funny to see it in writing. Definitely a Massachusetts thing I think.

Andraste said...

We had 'burnouts' in Maine, but we called them "wrenches." Not sure why - probably because they took the non-academic courses in high school. What were they called? Industrial arts? I think that's it.

Anyway - jeez! I don't know why, but I'm half expecting the guy in the Camaro to make another appearance. If he didn't, you could make something up where he does, and write a novel. Those types of things happen in novels.

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