Highway Men
The headlights of the passing car illuminated the three of us – Alex and Nick sitting with their feet dangling out the side of the car while I sat on the roof. Two people had already stopped to ask if we needed help; this car would make the third. As the black Expedition crept to a stop and the driver rolled down his window, we quickly reassured him that we were okay and he could continue on. He was not convinced, however. It’s not every day that you see three teenagers stranded on the side of the highway at 2:30 in the morning. He drove slowly away, however, and left us once again with only the blackness of the night.
It began as a normal Thursday; Alex, Nick and I sitting in the high school cafeteria during our free second period. We were playing cards when I mentioned the new X-Men movie was coming out the next day.
“We should definitely go see it tomorrow, first thing.”
“You know, it’s probably playing at like, 12:01 tonight,” Nick responded.
We looked at each other and soon enough a plan was devised for the three of us to sneak out of our houses and catch the first showing of X-Men 3. At the time it was an excellent idea, and for the rest of the day we bragged about our planned excursion and tried to recruit some more friends. No one wanted in, however, and by the end of the school day it was still only the three of us.
I snuck out of my house at 11:30 that night, when I was certain that my parents had fallen asleep. I quietly crept down the street to the old trailer in the center of GreenBriar, our intended meeting place. Alex was already waiting for me, and only moments later Nick pulled around the corner in his old, rackety Geo. We got into his car, as excited as a group of third graders on Christmas morning, and began our journey to the movie theatre.
The movie was sold out.
“Well, this blows.”
“‘Blows,’ I think, is an understatement,” I responded.
“Whatever. We’re out, we might as well eat.”
So it was settled. We left the movie theatre and went to Wendy’s, where we had our midnight snack. Literally. We left the Wendy’s parking lot with disappointment in our hearts and exhaust in our eyes, and headed home.
It was merging from highway 84 to 6-84 that Nick noticed the low rumble underneath his car. He warned us of the discouraging noise, but we disregarded it and told him to continue on. Within a few seconds, the engine was making the type of noise you’d imagine if you played the drums on your kitchen’s pots and pans. The car then came to a halting stop in the middle of the exit ramp, but Nick managed to drive it a bit further, and pulled over on the side of the highway.
“Shit,” we all said simultaneously as we opened our doors and stepped out of the car. It was already close to 1 AM and we began to panic. I offered to call my dad, confess, and have him pick the three of us up, but Nick and Alex refused. We had thirty dollars among us and couldn’t call a car service to come pick us up, so virtually, we were screwed.
It was after sitting around and debating for over 45 minutes that Alex found the AAA card in his wallet. I dialed the number with a newfound hope in my heart, and was relieved when the operator answered in her friendly voice.
“Yes, we’re stranded here on the exit ramp connecting highways 84 and 6-84,” I told her in as calm a voice I could muster. “Our car has broken down; we don’t know what happened. The car won’t start again and we don’t have another ride home.”
She assured me that a tow truck would be on its way shortly and all our problems would be solved.
“Shortly,” however, took another hour and a half, and it wasn’t until almost 3:30 AM that the tow truck showed up. It pulled up slowly next to us and a large, scruffy man with raggedy jeans, dirty white tee, and lit cigarette hanging out of his mouth stepped out of the truck and walked towards us.
“Isn’t this how all horror movies start?” I whispered to Nick and Alex as the man approached us.
“Shut up. We just woke this guy up at three in the morning to come pick us up on the side of the road. He probably is ready to kill us.”
With all the charm we could muster, we explained to him our situation: we snuck out of our houses to see a movie which was sold out, and on the way home the car broke down. Our parents don’t know we’re gone, we have school tomorrow, and have virtually no money between us.
Pete, as it was, turned out to be a pretty nice guy. He told us he’d “take care of us good” and he’d get us home safely. Within no time he had Nick’s Geo on the flatbed of the truck and we were ready to leave for home.
“There’s only room for two of you in the cab of the truck. One of you’s gotta’ ride in the Geo,” he informed us right before leaving.
A quick game of twenty first finger determined that Alex would be the unlucky one to sit on the flat bed of the truck. He sluggishly climbed aboard while Nick and I took our seats in the cab of the truck, next to Pete. He started the truck and merged onto the highway, accelerating quickly; before we realized it we were going 85 miles per hour on a virtually empty highway. We directed him to Nick’s house and asked him to, as quietly as possible, unload the car off the flatbed into the cul de sac. Pete was an expert at his skill, silently taking the car off the truck, without any of the chains, bolts, or hooks clanking once. He even helped us put the car into neutral and push it into Nick’s driveway to where it was before he snuck out. We thanked him profusely and assured him that Alex and I could walk home, only about two miles from Nick’s house. Pete, however, would not hear it. He forced us into the cab and demanded that he drive us to at least our streets.
We pulled into GreenBriar at close to 4:30.
“We can take it from here, Pete.”
He took Alex’s AAA card, swiped it through his little machine, did some paper work, and gave us the check. Twenty three dollars. We gave him all of our thirty dollars and promised that if we had more, it would be his. He was truly a lifesaver. We stepped out of the truck, thanked Pete once again, and turned towards our homes.
“Well, that was quite a night,” I said.
“It’s going to be an even more interesting morning.”
“Yeah. I’ll see you in a few hours.”
With that, we turned away from each other and separated. The only thing still illuminating the night were the headlights of Pete’s tow truck, growing smaller and smaller as he drove slowly away.
It began as a normal Thursday; Alex, Nick and I sitting in the high school cafeteria during our free second period. We were playing cards when I mentioned the new X-Men movie was coming out the next day.
“We should definitely go see it tomorrow, first thing.”
“You know, it’s probably playing at like, 12:01 tonight,” Nick responded.
We looked at each other and soon enough a plan was devised for the three of us to sneak out of our houses and catch the first showing of X-Men 3. At the time it was an excellent idea, and for the rest of the day we bragged about our planned excursion and tried to recruit some more friends. No one wanted in, however, and by the end of the school day it was still only the three of us.
I snuck out of my house at 11:30 that night, when I was certain that my parents had fallen asleep. I quietly crept down the street to the old trailer in the center of GreenBriar, our intended meeting place. Alex was already waiting for me, and only moments later Nick pulled around the corner in his old, rackety Geo. We got into his car, as excited as a group of third graders on Christmas morning, and began our journey to the movie theatre.
The movie was sold out.
“Well, this blows.”
“‘Blows,’ I think, is an understatement,” I responded.
“Whatever. We’re out, we might as well eat.”
So it was settled. We left the movie theatre and went to Wendy’s, where we had our midnight snack. Literally. We left the Wendy’s parking lot with disappointment in our hearts and exhaust in our eyes, and headed home.
It was merging from highway 84 to 6-84 that Nick noticed the low rumble underneath his car. He warned us of the discouraging noise, but we disregarded it and told him to continue on. Within a few seconds, the engine was making the type of noise you’d imagine if you played the drums on your kitchen’s pots and pans. The car then came to a halting stop in the middle of the exit ramp, but Nick managed to drive it a bit further, and pulled over on the side of the highway.
“Shit,” we all said simultaneously as we opened our doors and stepped out of the car. It was already close to 1 AM and we began to panic. I offered to call my dad, confess, and have him pick the three of us up, but Nick and Alex refused. We had thirty dollars among us and couldn’t call a car service to come pick us up, so virtually, we were screwed.
It was after sitting around and debating for over 45 minutes that Alex found the AAA card in his wallet. I dialed the number with a newfound hope in my heart, and was relieved when the operator answered in her friendly voice.
“Yes, we’re stranded here on the exit ramp connecting highways 84 and 6-84,” I told her in as calm a voice I could muster. “Our car has broken down; we don’t know what happened. The car won’t start again and we don’t have another ride home.”
She assured me that a tow truck would be on its way shortly and all our problems would be solved.
“Shortly,” however, took another hour and a half, and it wasn’t until almost 3:30 AM that the tow truck showed up. It pulled up slowly next to us and a large, scruffy man with raggedy jeans, dirty white tee, and lit cigarette hanging out of his mouth stepped out of the truck and walked towards us.
“Isn’t this how all horror movies start?” I whispered to Nick and Alex as the man approached us.
“Shut up. We just woke this guy up at three in the morning to come pick us up on the side of the road. He probably is ready to kill us.”
With all the charm we could muster, we explained to him our situation: we snuck out of our houses to see a movie which was sold out, and on the way home the car broke down. Our parents don’t know we’re gone, we have school tomorrow, and have virtually no money between us.
Pete, as it was, turned out to be a pretty nice guy. He told us he’d “take care of us good” and he’d get us home safely. Within no time he had Nick’s Geo on the flatbed of the truck and we were ready to leave for home.
“There’s only room for two of you in the cab of the truck. One of you’s gotta’ ride in the Geo,” he informed us right before leaving.
A quick game of twenty first finger determined that Alex would be the unlucky one to sit on the flat bed of the truck. He sluggishly climbed aboard while Nick and I took our seats in the cab of the truck, next to Pete. He started the truck and merged onto the highway, accelerating quickly; before we realized it we were going 85 miles per hour on a virtually empty highway. We directed him to Nick’s house and asked him to, as quietly as possible, unload the car off the flatbed into the cul de sac. Pete was an expert at his skill, silently taking the car off the truck, without any of the chains, bolts, or hooks clanking once. He even helped us put the car into neutral and push it into Nick’s driveway to where it was before he snuck out. We thanked him profusely and assured him that Alex and I could walk home, only about two miles from Nick’s house. Pete, however, would not hear it. He forced us into the cab and demanded that he drive us to at least our streets.
We pulled into GreenBriar at close to 4:30.
“We can take it from here, Pete.”
He took Alex’s AAA card, swiped it through his little machine, did some paper work, and gave us the check. Twenty three dollars. We gave him all of our thirty dollars and promised that if we had more, it would be his. He was truly a lifesaver. We stepped out of the truck, thanked Pete once again, and turned towards our homes.
“Well, that was quite a night,” I said.
“It’s going to be an even more interesting morning.”
“Yeah. I’ll see you in a few hours.”
With that, we turned away from each other and separated. The only thing still illuminating the night were the headlights of Pete’s tow truck, growing smaller and smaller as he drove slowly away.
3 comments:
Well now Erik, it seems you are not as God-awful a writer as I was lead to believe, why haven’t you submitted anything to Impressions. Oh well, too late now. Anyways, the piece, as I said, is not God-awful. It could use some minor little tweaks here and there and you could stand to work on some alternate vocabulary here and there (no one actually says “rickety” or describes people as “scruffy” in conversation.) Also, major props for sneaking out of your house to see X-men 3; that may be the least badass thing you could possibly have done. In the future I’d like to read some more of your work to see just how much potential you’ve got. With a little work you could be a really good writer.
Erik great job. I think this piece is well written and whatever "deficincies" Johannes seems to think there are, are more than compensated for by the tale itself. I hope you don't have too many more nights like that.
I'm up against the bell but just wanted to say that was a really entertaining story. Well written-do you parents know?
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