“Road Trip—Pt VII: Blow Out”

The final leg of my journey was a real blast.  The two girls who picked me up were going to Nebraska City to see the driver’s boyfriend.  I don’t remember where they were from or much else, either, except that it was “rock on down the highway!”  They were going to Nebraska to party, and they weren’t waiting to get there to start.  After the usual preliminaries, we were all the best of friends, singing to whatever was playing and telling one another the most believable lies we could invent.

We hadn’t been travelling more than an hour or so when the girl driving, who owned the car, asked me if I knew how to get where we were going.  Yeah, I know.  She’d already asked.  Next thing I know, she was pulling over at a rest stop so I could drive.  Fine with me.

She got in back with her friend, pulled open the tab on a beer, and lit up a joint.  It was almost 70 degrees.  I cracked my window open and drove.

“No, thanks.  I don’t smoke.”

“Nope.  Don’t drink and drive, either.”  Besides, back then my fraternity brothers called me “Two Brew.”  I wanted to get home in one piece.

The adventures weren’t quite over, however.  The battleship on wheels I was driving had seen better days, and I’m sure she was wondering what the hell she was doing making 70+ mph on the Interstate.  The worst thing, though, was that the old girl needed new shoes.  Just west of Columbia, with a sound like a gun shot, she broke a heel, and the next thing I knew, I was watching her rear end slide onto the shoulder and trying to keep her from falling down a rather steep bank and hurting herself…and us.

I managed to get straightened out, slow down, miss at least one sign, avoid the other lane of traffic, and come to a dusty stop.  I realized then that the terrible noise I had been hearing was my two travelling companions screaming their lungs out.  By the time I got the car stopped, they were both in the floorboard behind me, one on top of the other, soaked in beer, and trying to put out a roach that was in one girl’s hair.  I had to laugh.  Couldn’t help myself.

Everyone managed to get out of the car without further embarrassment.  We were all laughing by then.  Relief does that most of the time.  I received all sorts of congratulations and a hug or two for managing to keep from killing the three of us.  Both girls said they never would have been able to control the car in that situation.  They had no idea what to do in a skid.  Turns out, they neither one knew how to change a tire, either.  Luckily, however, the driver’s papa had made sure there the trunk contained a decent spare and a scissors jack for his little girl.  I was really happy to see an X-wrench instead of the usual knuckle buster, because I the lug nuts were welded on with rust and road grime.

After about an hour of dirt and sweat and swearing I finally got the tire changed and the trip resumed.  The party soon cranked up again in the back seat.  We did stop for food a couple of times.  My luck continued to hold, and my new sweethearts popped for my meals since I was doing the driving.  It was getting dark by the time we got to Tarkio.

If it had been earlier in the day, I might have gone on a bit north, just pointed them west on Highway 2 to Nebraska City and hitched the remaining few miles to Shenandoah, but I felt like staying in Tarkio that night and opted for directions instead.  They seemed almost reluctant to have to drive themselves.  Wave goodbye, girls.

I went to look for my buddies, a cold beer, and good friends for the night.  January Term was always four weeks of party anyway.  They were happy to see me, and happy to know that I’d be back at school for another semester, too.  The next day I’d go on home and see what I needed to do to make that happen.  The last chapter starts the next story.