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| BACK to Me and my Shadow supercar: Driver logs | An introduction to J. Staute and Shadowfast |
About a week later I arrived at my car in the school parking lot to find another pretty girl waiting there for me.
This one had black hair which ended just above the shoulder, and brown eyes. And was a bit pudgier than Lindsay. But as Lindsay verged on being too thin, that made this girl just about right. At least from a high school boy's perspective.
Though I was well able to admire the gal's appearance, at the same time I was thinking surely those Crosby jack asses didn't think I'd fall for the same trick twice.
But it wasn't what I expected. The new girl's name was Trixie, and she was a friend of Lindsay's, hoping to get Lindsay's purse from me if I had it. Apparently Lindsay wasn't exactly certain where it might be, after her attempt on my life and all.
"Do you know how Lindsay's purse got into my car?" I asked Trixie.
"She said it was an accident," Trixie responded.
"Well, that's bullshit. Lindsay told me a friend of mine had suggested I might give her a ride home, and directed me right into a goddamned trap where I could have been killed!"
Trixie seemed to cringe at my response. So I reassured her.
"Don't worry. I'm not going to take it out on you. But I'm pretty well pissed at Lindsay. I can't give you her purse because I don't have it with me. I didn't keep it in the car because I figured Lindsay would come bust my window out looking for it and I didn't want her to be rewarded for such actions. You tell her if she wants it she'll have to come see me herself."
"She won't come if you're going to hurt her," Trixie said ruefully.
I laughed.
"I've never intentionally hurt a girl in my life, and I'm not about to start now. Unless it's in self-defense. You can tell her if she tries hurting me or trapping me again she darn well better look out! Because I'll make an exception in her case if she really really wants me to!"
I wasn't sure what Trixie would tell her, or if Lindsay would try to get her purse back at all after this, but I was pretty pissed and it was difficult not to let off some steam about it all.
Another several days passed with no sign of Lindsay. Then I shut my locker door at school one day before classes in the morning, and there she was.
Really cute in her patched jeans and short-sleeved shirt with a big fabric flower on its front.
Really dangerous too, I reminded myself.
"Hi," she said.
"Hello Lindsay," was all I said in reply. I'd thought up all sorts of things to say if I saw her again. But for some reason none of them seemed important now.
"Trixie said you'd give me my purse if I came for it myself."
"So I did. But I don't have it with me."
Lindsay frowned.
"Well, when can I get it?"
"I can have it for you in the parking lot about fifteen minutes after school's out," I told her.
"But that's this afternoon!" she exclaimed. It was now prior to 8:30 AM.
"Well, that's the best I can do. Take it or leave it."
"The problem is I won't have a ride home in the afternoon," she complained.
I looked at her in disbelief.
"If you think I'm going to give you another ride home, you've got another think coming!"
"I'm sorry about that. Really! But I needed the money. And it was so easy--" Lindsay realized what she was saying and stopped short.
"Yeah, I guess it was easy. Just get some poor chump to do you a favor and get mashed for his trouble," I groused.
"But you didn't get mashed," she chided.
"Sure not for lack of trying on your buddies' part!" I replied.
"They're not my buddies."
"Oh? Then what are they to you?"
"Friends of my brother's. They wanted to get back at you for screwing up their game thing that night."
"I figured that."
"I'm sorry. But I don't know you, and I figured it'd be more of a prank than anything else..."
"Prank? You call ramming me with their cars just a prank?"
"I didn't know they were going to do that. They told me they were just going to scare you."
"Well, if it makes you feel any better they scared me plenty. You talk about needing money-- well, you ain't the only one, lady. I just got through saving up the money for months to get my car back into decent shape again, then got its paint job all messed up at that game just trying to keep a couple innocent girls from getting hurt. Then I give another girl a ride home just to have a bunch of assholes try to total my car completely! You think that stuff don't cost money?"
"Well, at least you have a car," Lindsay responded.
"You don't?"
"No. That's why I'll be stuck this afternoon."
"Well, a taxi will probably only charge you ten bucks or so to run you home."
"I can't afford a taxi!"
"Why not? You've got $30 in your purse."
"So you went through my bag?"
"Well, I figured I was entitled, seeing as how you set me up to be killed and all," I said with some righteous indignation.
"I really need that money," Lindsay said, with a tone and look implying she was afraid I might keep it.
"Well, you'll have it back this afternoon. If you don't manage to get me killed before then."
"I said I was sorry! I told you I didn't know they were going to do that!" It appeared tears were welling up in her eyes. Damn it!
I was a sucker for crying women in those days. Even deadly ones.
"OK, OK, let's say I believe you. Just for the sake of argument. You'll get your purse back this afternoon."
"But how am I going to get home? And what am I going to do here all day?"
"I'll think about the ride part. As for killing time-- whoops! Didn't mean to get you excited there-- as for staying busy you might try checking out the school library. Just be sure to be waiting in the parking lot after school. I'll run get your pocketbook and bring it back."
Lindsay sure didn't look happy. Which was fine with me.
I saw her from afar a couple more times that day. But when school let out and I retrieved her purse, she never showed up at the lot. As it was my day off from work I waited about an hour before I decided to hell with it.
After that I kept her purse locked in Shadow's trunk so I could rid myself of it the very next time I saw her.
With Shadow in the shape he was and the money and time to fix him up being in short supply, Steve and I couldn't use him for double dating with Sienna and Vicki. Recall Steve was totally car-less himself. Plus, there was the on-going conflict between Steve and I about who exactly would date who, if we got the chance...
Though maybe you couldn't tell it from what I said before, Steve too was in the throes of his own first major crush-- but not with Sienna or Vicki. Like me, Steve's crush was on a different girl entirely.
And her name was Sue. No, she wasn't the same Sue Anne I lusted after. But both girls had the same first names.
That odd coincidence, small as it was, may have been one of the things which brought Steve and I together to become friends in the first place.
And yes, sometimes Steve seemed just as love-struck over Sue as I did over Sue Anne. But in his own case it didn't interfere nearly so much with him servicing his libido in other ways. I.e., having his way with many of the prize female students at our school. And at least one of the teachers too, apparently.
 |
A few days later I approached my car after school to see Lindsay once more by its side. This time I was running a bit later than usual on leaving the building.
At last, I thought. I'll be rid of her at last. "I brought your purse the other day like I said I would, but you were nowhere around. Since it was my day off I waited for you about an hour, but you never showed," I told her. "I know. I had to leave." "Well, it doesn't matter. This time I have your purse in the trunk. So you can take it and go." "But I have no way home," she said, wearing a worried expression. I was already standing behind poor battered Shadow, getting ready to unlock the trunk. "Lindsay, I'm working today. Got no time for extra trips." "I know, I know. But I really need that purse. And I really need a ride. Please?" I couldn't believe it. I was actually considering it. On the plus side, I'd finally be rid of her. And I could surely escape harm by merely stopping well short of where she wanted to be dropped off, and making her walk a mile or something instead. Yeah. Make her walk a ways. I liked that. On the negative, I'd given her a ride once before and paid dearly for it. This girl was a calamity waiting to happen. Would I let myself get kicked twice by the same mule? "How about I take you to a phone so you can call somebody?" I offered. "I don't have anybody to call." "How about your friend Trixie?" Lindsay shook her head. "Trixie's car's in the shop." Wasn't that convenient, I thought. "You can call your parents," I told her, thinking that that would end the discussion. |
"That's impossible," she stated flatly.
"Why?"
"They're-- out of town right now," Lindsay said, her pale face suddenly flushing bright red.
This last comment seemed an obvious lie. But not an easy one for her, judging from her reaction. Which seemed all the more puzzling, since she'd so easily lied to me about so much, before.
Of course, I knew plenty of kids with major issues regarding their parents. Some of them deserved, some not. Plus, even though my own parents were likely better than most, still there were plenty of areas of my life I sure wouldn't want them getting involved with, if I could help it.
And if I'd done anything a quarter as bad as I felt Lindsay had towards me, I'd probably have rather gone to jail than tell my parents about it (teenagers who haven't been incarcerated themselves usually don't understand jail time very well).
So despite everything that'd happened, I couldn't help but empathize with her in that moment.
Of course, while I was pondering all that, Lindsay's mental gears were busily working on a way to wind me around her little finger again...
That's when Lindsay asked "would it help if I promised not to kill you?", her words dripping with sarcasm.
"No," I responded. Man, if that didn't sound ridiculous coming out of this small-framed girl. But damn it, I could have died in that previous episode!
"Lindsay, where're we talking about taking you this time? If it's that junkyard--" I felt like threatening her there, but stopped short.
"No. It's not the junkyard. It's past that." She then went on to describe where she really lived. Or claimed she did.
I wished I had a map to look at. Just in case. But I didn't.
However, it did seem to synch up with the info I recalled from the identification cards in her purse.
Hey! Here came Red! I'd get him to go with us! But Red begged off, due to other commitments.
Crap.
I'd figured having a true pal around would help if I got cornered, as well as boost my overall savvy about the area I'd be driving into. Maybe, anyway.
Wouldn't you know it? I couldn't locate any buddies to accompany me there. Partly because I'd been running late, so most everyone else was already gone.
Lindsay continued her efforts to spin me into her preferred direction.
"You're not going to make me walk, are you? I mean, I guess I can't blame you if you do. But I really didn't know they meant to try banging you up like that." Lindsay was hanging her head a bit low now, the way women and little kids both do to maximize their cuteness and an onlooker's sympathy at the same time, after they've exhausted all their other tricks of manipulation.
I was still young enough that the technique was very effective. Especially when used by a beautiful girl.
"Damn it Lindsay! You should be more careful about what you get caught up in! Somewhere somebody really needs help but they're not getting it because too many people get burned like how I did by you!" I exclaimed, feeling a bit exasperated.
"OK. Just give me my purse and I'll try hitchhiking my way home. If I don't get a ride I guess I'll get there in a couple days..." she said solemnly.
"OK! OK! I'll give you a ride! If you swear there's nobody waiting for me there like last time!" I surrendered.
Lindsay's face immediately brightened, and she put up her right hand like she was taking an oath in court.
"I swear! Nobody's waiting for you. Not that I know of anyway," she trailed off.
"What does that mean?"
"Well, so far as I know there'll be nobody waiting there for you. But I can't know everything, can I?"
I gave her a hard look.
"Well, I can't! I'm just being truthful!"
Crap. Everything about this girl was up in the air.
I suddenly felt it'd be worth a significant risk just to be rid of her. My life was complicated enough as it was.
Why oh why couldn't it be sweet Sue Anne I was taking home? Or Sienna?
We stopped by work. I warned Lindsay that she might sure enough have to start hitch-hiking from there if I couldn't get someone to cover for me for an hour or so. I was hoping circumstances would force me to give her the bad news. I wondered if I could keep from smiling when I gave it to her.
But no. Of all days for Bruno to be there, this had to be one of them. Bruno was an ex-convict trying to make a living washing dishes on day shift. He was a little guy. Even slightly smaller than me. I don't recall what he'd been imprisoned for. But whatever it was nobody in the restaurant was scared of him.
Bruno often but not always appreciated some extra time on the clock. Partly because he was just a part-time employee at the moment.
So Bruno was delighted to work until I got back. Told me to take my time.
Damn it!
So there I ended up taking Lindsay home a second time. Supposedly. It remained to be seen what happened if we ever got there.
I sure as hell didn't plan on getting trapped a second time. I'd dump Lindsay out the moment I noticed anything amiss at all and get the hell out of there.
"So where'd you learn to do that?" Lindsay asked, I suppose to make small talk to cut the tension. For I sure was tense at that moment.
"Do what?" I scowled at her.
"I'm not sure what to call it. But it kind of looked like surfing. Only with your car. I never saw anything like that before."
OK. I supposed she was trying to butter me up. Yeah, the recipe for one cooked goose includes first putting the goose at ease...
"I guess you're talking about the pond?" I replied.
"Yeah. All the guys at the junkyard were talking about it too. They'd never seen it either. I heard a couple of them tried it themselves since then."
"What? You've got to be joking!"
"No. Men are crazy, you know. They'll do anything."
"Well, what happened? They surely didn't use their regular cars for that, did they?"
"Eh? I'm not sure what cars they used; I wasn't there. But my brother told me both cars sank in the pond, and they haven't been able to get them out yet. The board got stuck on the bottom under the second car, so nobody else could try it again."
I laughed. "Those crazy bastards!" I laughed some more. "I wish I could have seen that!"
Lindsay seemed pleased by my reaction.
"So where'd you learn it?" she asked me.
"What? I never learned that! Are you crazy? I was desperate, and just trying anything to get away!"
"But you made it look easy," she said.
"Easy! Are you kidding? That wasn't easy!" I laughed some more. I couldn't help it. These people were insane!
"I used to do car tricks," Lindsay changed the subject.
"Oh? What kind of tricks?"
"Well, pranks mostly I suppose. But I had to quit after I turned my car upside down." Something didn't seem quite right about Lindsay's statement. But I had too little interest to pursue the matter further.
"Bummer. But stuff like that goes with it. I might put a roll bar in my car one of these days just for that eventuality."
Lindsay too paid little attention to my musing, continuing on in her own direction.
"I'm trying to save enough money to get me another car now."
"Well, you better be more careful with the next one," I said, glancing over at her to see her frown in response. Too bad she was no good. She sure was attractive.
We talked a bit more about various subjects before we reached the turn off. All the talk had relaxed me some, but making the turn brought back my anxiety. No, we'd passed by the turn for the junkyard of watery death. But not by more than a mile or two. Way too close for comfort. But I saw nothing to indicate imminent foul play. Yet.
Then I remembered her brother. Yikes!
"Lindsay, is your brother going to be there?"
Lindsay looked surprised.
"No. I doubt it. He doesn't live with us anymore. But he comes by every now and then to help out with chores. That's about it. I see him more often at school than home."
"So he goes to school with you?"
"No. He still has friends there is all."
"You really go to Crosby, don't you?"
"Yeah. Sorry about lying to you before. But that was part of the whole trick thing."
"Yeah. Right," I said, then did my best to overlook the ever growing list of her original unjust actions towards me. "You seem to miss a lot of school. At least lately."
"Yeah. It's tough...not having a car."
Lindsay indicated another turn several miles beyond the first. And it was to the right. In theory such a turn could take us towards the junkyard, I thought. But the scenery didn't appear to resemble the surroundings of the yard. Yet.
Then we made a left turn. Onto a little dirt road which first went down into a little holler and then up again to a little house sitting on the top of a small hill.
Definitely not the junkyard. There was only one other car visible on the premises: an apparent junker, up on blocks. It was a yellow and black Chevrolet Nova. 1968 model I believe.
Lindsay suddenly looked apprehensive for some reason. She turned to me before getting out.
"Would you mind waiting here a minute? I think something's wrong."
"Like what?"
| "Please just wait for me and let me check, OK?" Lindsay's eyes were pleading, as she had her hand on the door handle.
I could detect no looming threat. But I knew somebody could be inside with a shotgun taking a bead on me. And yet...what if Lindsay legitimately did need help? I grabbed her wrist. "I'm coming with you." She definitely didn't like that, and started to say something against it, I'm sure. But given our past history she thought better of it. I surprised her by how we disembarked. I kept hold of her wrist the whole time and climbed over the console and out her door, so as to afford me some cover against any gunman lurking nearby. I explained it to Lindsay when she showed some alarm at my actions. "You're crazy!" she told me. Yeah. Right. I'm crazy. I accompanied her into the house. The front door was unlocked. With one hand I was holding firmly onto Lindsay's wrist. With the other I was clutching a length of thick cable recently given me by Steve. I kept it under my car seat for just such situations as this. I didn't yet own any guns. |
 |
The house looked pretty ramshackle and worn. In bad need of maintenance. It wasn't spotless clean inside either. But neither was it a mess. There didn't seem to be anybody there, judging by the lack of response to Lindsay shouting out a girl's name.
Lindsay was starting to look scared.
"Who's Sharon?" I asked her.
"My little sister. She should be here. Sharon! Sharon!" Lindsay yelled again, this time as we were standing outside once more, facing the surrounding countryside. I let go her wrist, as my certainty grew that this was no trap.
"Will you help me find her?" Lindsay asked me.
"Sure! But where's your parents?"
"My mom's dead. My dad ran off before she died. Haven't seen him since. I lied about them to you before."
"You mean you and Sharon live here by yourselves?"
"Yeah. Like I said before, Brock drops by sometimes to help out. But not nearly enough, as you can see."
Lindsay directed me in one direction as she went the other. We were searching the grounds down the hill and in the surrounding holler. We were both yelling Sharon's name.
After about ten minutes I noticed something and moved to investigate. It was Sharon. She appeared for the most part OK, but definitely in need of aid.
She screamed when she saw me, and was afraid for me to come near her. So I yelled for Lindsay before actually taking action to retrieve Sharon from the steep sided hole she'd fallen into.
The way Sharon was down in that hole it made it difficult for anyone to hear her from very far away.
Lindsay showed up and Sharon then allowed me to come down to get her. I had to carry her up the steep slope under one arm so I'd have the other to climb with. Luckily Sharon was fairly small. I then handed her over to Lindsay.
"Are you OK pumpkin?" Lindsay asked her.
"Mostly," Sharon replied. "But my foot hurts."
It looked like Sharon might have sprained something in the foot or ankle area. So I carried her back to the house. All this handling of Sharon forced me to hand over my cable club to Lindsay though, which made me uneasy. I still half-expected her to conk me in the head with it when my back was turned, and then call in the gang once more. The gang with which her brother was affiliated in some way.
Once back at the house Lindsay and I worked together to apply some first aid to Sharon. I wished I had a first aid kit in Shadow. For necessary supplies were sorely lacking at Lindsay's place.
As Sharon seemed more frightened and anxious than injured-- and was soon walking around the place on her own power-- we saw no need to take her to a hospital.
There was no phone there for me to call work. Hopefully Bruno had it covered. For it was another hour before I felt comfortable leaving them there alone.
Sharon was eight years old.
Apparently Lindsay and Sharon were practically destitute there. Trying to make it on their own with no parents and a somewhat neglectful older brother. There was darn little food in the house.
Lindsay and Sharon's main transportation in and out of the holler consisted of the school bus runs of morning and afternoon. Plus whatever ride-alongs Lindsay could arrange with school friends possessing cars. And a very occasional trip with their brother.
Lindsay had had an after-school job like me before losing her car. Once she lost her primary means of transport though she'd also lost her job.
I wasn't sure what to do, so I ended up giving Lindsay a $20 bill in case she needed it.
Damn it!
Thankfully Bruno had sure enough covered for me until I got there. But some days the job was more exhausting than others, and he was glad for me to take over when I did. After all, by that time he'd worked the day-shift and part of the night-shift too.
And wouldn't you know it? Bruno was short of cash too, and felt like I owed him for the extra job-time. Plus I was aware that he was barely making it out here in the free world, out of the slammer. So I gave him five dollars to get him by.
Damn it!
Seeing Lindsay's true circumstances had sure muddied the waters for me.
That'd been Lindsay's car on blocks in the yard. I'd learned more details about its problems while we were tending to Sharon. It seemed likely that I could get it running again without too much problem. Of course the busted windshield and assorted bodywork was another matter. I'd found out Lindsay's and Sharon's usual schedule while I'd been there. And said something to Lindsay about maybe stopping by to do minimal repairs on her Nova. She'd seemed happy at the prospect of possibly getting her car back on the road again. I'd told her perhaps I could just get it drivable again and she or her brother might take care of everything else. I didn't promise her anything. All I'd told her was I'd see what I could do. But it might not amount to anything. So not to get her hopes up.
I'd also asked her to please keep the junkyard guys-- including her brother-- from jumping me if I stopped by to do some work on her car. After all, Lindsay's place sat at the end of a dead end driveway: so I could easily get trapped in there. I also told her I might do some repairs when she and Sharon weren't there. No problem, Lindsay had told me. Plus, the car keys were in the car.
My high school was undergoing an experiment at that time, called something like "open-campus", where basically students could come and go according to their class schedule. Seniors with only a few classes often only stayed half a day. When you had study hall you could walk around and do things outdoors, or leave the grounds and return when a real class came due.
Yeah, it sounds weird, and maybe gave some students way too much freedom at times. But that's what they did for a while.
And yeah, they stopped that after only a year or two, due to the problems it created.
But during this time I knew Lindsay it was in effect. So I managed to squeeze in some car repair time for Lindsay's ride here and there over a couple weeks. Locating a windshield and another part or two at my personal regular junkyard stops (far removed from the murderous arena) and doing some actual repairs of Lindsay's Nova. I'd leave a note stuck in her sun visor about the times I arrived and left, and what I did to her car and why.
I tried my best to avoid stopping by when I was sure the girls would be there. And once didn't stop at all when I spied an unknown car parked there. Better safe than sorry!
After a couple weeks I'd managed to replace the broken windshield and get the motor running once more. As well as patch one tire and get four drivable wheels back underneath the thing. One fender had to be beat out too in order to allow proper wheel clearance.
I left a victory note for Lindsay in the visor, telling her I hoped her car would work good enough for her and her brother to finish its repairs, and for her to take good care of herself and Sharon. Not counting my gas and work-hours, I ended up spending roughly $45 on her car I think (recall this was the early seventies).
Of course that plus the earlier $25 was $70 I couldn't spend on Shadow's repairs. But those girls did need the help.
I figured the car fix would be my good deed for the year-- especially considering how Lindsay almost got me killed or my own car totaled before.
A few days later I saw Lindsay again. She'd driven her car to my school parking lot. Sharon was with her. I walked up to find them parked near to Shadow.
Lindsay flashed me a wonderful smile as I walked up to her window.
"Just wanted to say thanks for fixing my car!" she told me.
"You're welcome! Hello Sharon!" I waved at Sharon. She acted shy and just smiled and gave me a little wave back.
"You want to go with us to get a bite to eat and see how it's running?" Lindsay asked me.
Nope! I immediately thought. I still didn't trust her. And even if she was trustworthy, her brother probably wasn't. So I was glad to have a good excuse not to join them. Heck: I had them back on the road now, so hopefully Lindsay could take it from there.
"Thanks, but I've got to get ready and go to work. Does it seem to be driving OK?"
"Yeah, it's doing pretty good. Not as good as it did before I wrecked it. But lots better than it was before you fixed it!"
"Well, hopefully you and Brock will be able to finish up the repairs, now that you can drive it again."
"Yeah. I hope so," Lindsay looked like she wanted to say something else.
"What is it Lindsay?" I prompted her.
"Oh. Nothing I guess."
Then I realized there might have been an ulterior motive to the invitation.
"Hey Lindsay and Sharon! Tell you what: since I can't go eat with you, why don't we let the meal be on me? Sort of a celebration of having your car back again!" I pulled out my wallet, hoping there was something in it.
Lindsay gave me a tight smile, while Sharon looked up at her beseechingly. Or at least that was my impression.
"I don't know..." Lindsay began.
"Here. My treat. Next time though you treat me!" I laughed, and handed them a five dollar bill. It was all I had. Again, this was the early seventies. Two people could eat fairly well at a fast food place for five dollars. And have money left over for gas. If I'd had ones I might have just given them two dollars instead.
Lindsay acquiesced and took it, and said something about me maybe stopping by at their house to get a home-cooked meal sometime. I told them sure! With no intention of ever showing up.
I wondered if mom and dad would have five dollars I could borrow for a week...
I didn't see anything of Lindsay again for a while. Even forgot about her and Sharon completely. I was after all a teen age boy with little more than Sue Anne and my car on my mind. And I'd gladly have dumped the car thoughts for more of Sue Anne.
The repairs on Shadow were going slowly, due to lack of time. And especially money.
He no longer carried any pond odor that I could detect, but his rear bumper was still missing a chunk, and if I could have retrieved the lost front spoiler I would probably have sold it to a buddy to recapture some of its purchase price. If it was still salvageable.
I was comparison shopping for items with which to fix up Shadow. I was also trying to figure out what minimal new tool purchases I could get by with to do my own bodywork, painting, and various maintenance chores. For I sure couldn't afford any more of the pro variety!
To make matters worse, it appeared that Steve had managed to arrange us a double-date with Sienna and Vicki just a week from then. Yikes! Besides Shadow's problems, I was also penniless, as my last two checks had been required to make my car and insurance payments, as well as attend to all the unexpected extra expenses of late.
Damn it!
I needed money bad.
I wondered if I could finagle some profit from racing? I'd made a bit that way in the past, but usually coincidentally. I'd never actually sought it out. Although Steve often encouraged me to.
Man, maybe it was time for some of that.
Getting my goatIt took me a few days to round up somebody. The best lead came through Steve. The guy's name was Dwayne Rogers. And he had a snazzy looking little 1964 Pontiac GTO. It was boxy looking, dark colored (nice paint!), somewhat but not excessively raised in the rear end, with wide tires all around. It had power too. From the age and look of the car, it seemed obvious Dwayne had put considerable work into it. It looked new-- heck, better than new. Sounded strong too. Surprisingly, he didn't want the usual type of race. But a slalom instead. Then I learned why Steve had seemed extra gleeful about finding this fella for me. Dwayne considered himself an expert road racer through the curves of Crosby. Claimed he was undefeated. And was backing it up with $75 cash on the line. Steve knew I'd been practicing through Crosby for a while now, plus boning up on new driving techniques from various car mags. And of course it hadn't been too long since we'd escaped from the Crosby school mob on the same road. |
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I'd also been around some later model GTOs which-- although they often had power to be reckoned with on straight-aways-- often wallowed around in curves or plain fast change maneuvers, running right off the road if pushed too hard. Maybe due to being overweight. Maybe due to inadequate suspensions to back up their drive trains. I don't know. In my own personal experience Dwayne's 1964 GTO would be the only representative of its breed to ever give me personally a significant run for my money, curve-wise. And I suspect Dwayne had performed some performance enhancements on the car's suspension and maybe engine too.
Dwayne's 1964 wasn't a big whale like some of the later models. I figured its shorter wheelbase and possibly lighter weight than its newer cousins might make it do better. |
And Rogers even had a further enticement for me: all I had to do was stay on his tail the whole way without cracking up, and I'd get the prize money. Otherwise he'd get mine (I'd have to owe Steve for a week in that event, as he was putting up my stake). I thought this was actually one of the best sets of race terms I'd ever gotten where significant cash was involved. Dwayne was sort of an odd guy. And exhibited this is several different ways. Besides his unusual race preferences and near waist-length hippie hair. For example, he even offered to take Steve and I for a ride in his car on the course first, to show us what I'd be up against. As well as make certain we both knew and agreed to the starting and ending points of the contest. |
The pic above shows what maybe 50-60% of this particular race trek looked like in daylight. |
So we headed out in Dwayne's GTO, Steve in the front passenger seat and me on the back bench. I don't think there were seat belts in the back. If there were, I didn't use them. And I'd be sorely missing them shortly.
Dwayne then took us for one horrendous ride through Crosby in his machine. I mean, it was like being on the Scrambler ride at the county fair. I was bodily thrown from one side of the car to the other on the slick rear bench seat, slamming left, then right, then left again. There was little back there handy to hold onto. I could also see Dwayne and Steve in the front seats swaying back and forth.
Dwayne proved to be both an excellent driver and expert with regards to the Crosby slalom and his own car's capabilities.
In other words, that trip was scary as hell! I'm positive there's plenty of folks around who might have been vomiting or leaking other bodily fluids if they'd been along for the ride.
Keep in mind this was on a state highway with significant civilian traffic, around maybe 10 PM at night.
It turned out Dwayne did have some precautionary sense, and concern for the public safety about him: that being the reason competitors only had to stay behind him and not pass to win on the course. Dwayne was so confident no one could keep up with him, he felt no need to further jeopardize innocents or opponents.
Although Dwayne was sort of wild and radical and weird along several different vectors at once, I did admire at least some of them.
And figured his conditions might also set up his downfall, where Shadow and I were concerned.
For I was sure I got an exaggerated perspective of the run from being unsecured in the back of his Pontiac.
Yeah, sure, Dwayne's little GTO had power-- maybe even a better power-to-weight ratio than Shadow at that time-- and Dwayne was a great driver, who knew that road like the back of his hand, and maybe even had spruced up his car's suspension a bit over factory to help with the curves.
But I still figured with my newer car, personal experience, and growing driving expertise I stood a better than 50% chance of winning under his loose rules.
After all, I only had to stay on his tail. Not lead the way.
Heck, I couldn't recall ever having a problem keeping up with someone ahead up to that time! Not in a mutually agreed upon race, anyway.
Maybe Steve's Boss 351 might have left me behind in a run, but Steve totaled it before we ever got the chance for even a fun competition, much less a serious one.
And I had my doubts that Steve's considerably longer, bigger, and heavier Boss could have beaten Shadow through Crosby. Even with Steve driving it.
Yes, surely his Boss would have beat me handily in a straight line quarter mile. But in a curvy one? That's much less certain.
Dwayne seemed a bit surprised I was still willing to take him on after the wild preview.
But I needed money. And Dwayne seemed like a good place to get it.
Dwayne's girlfriend would ride with me and Steve with Dwayne, as witnesses.
Dwayne took off at high speed and I had to floor it to keep up. Starting from zero mph. But Crosby's curves would accept maximum acceleration from no man with a V-8 under his hood for long.
Dwayne's girlfriend Anita seemed amicable enough. Like Dwayne, she was older than me. Still attractive but seemingly frayed around the edges a bit. And a little over-done make up wise.
I'd made sure she belted up before we started out.
I had to admit Dwayne and his GTO were a formidable team on this Crosby run. Almost immediately I realized there was at least one inherent drawback in accepting Dwayne's race conditions. Namely, the following driver had less slack in regards to acceleration to aid his handling. For too much and you'd smack into Dwayne himself.
And sometimes you needed extra acceleration to power through a curve. Especially if you misjudged its tipping point. Which was easy to do through Crosby.
I was also hampered by my inexperience in general at being the pursuer rather than the pursued. It'd practically always been me who was chased, rather than the other way around.
So this trek was turning out to be more difficult than I expected. If I tried to allow myself a buffer zone for acceleration flexibility independent of Dwayne's own moves, I risked falling too far behind to win. But if I didn't have a buffer, I risked suddenly finding myself either ramming into Dwayne or skidding off the road because of too few alternatives. Sheesh!
All this quickly forced me into ultra concentration mode, trying to match Dwayne's every move and speed change notch-for-notch with my own.
This was harder than it sounds due to us both driving significantly different types of cars, and having our own personal driving styles.
But if I wanted his money, that seemed to be what had to be done.
My body motion was much more sedate and comfortable belted into Shadow than it had been sliding around Dwayne's back seat. But the degree of concentration required to stand toe-to-toe with Dwayne's moves-- and on his terms rather than mine-- was extremely irksome. I wished I'd made Dwayne follow me instead, now.
Dwayne's GTO and Shadow were producing a chorus of tire squealing, one set always offset by just a fraction of a second from the other. There was usually not much more than one or two car lengths between us.
I wondered what would happen if Dwayne suddenly had to make a panic stop. Could Shadow stop short of hitting him? Well, I knew the traction bars I'd added would help some on such an eventuality. I just didn't know if they'd help enough. So I tried to be ready to jam on the brakes if needed.
There were several close calls along the way.
Around the time we passed the halfway point on our chosen course Dwayne seemed to realize I might just win after all, and seemed to get even wilder with his driving than before.
No longer was it like his GTO was practically riding on rails around the corners. Now there was more closer-to-out-of-control sliding here and there. As well as some cheating, as he began pulling unnecessary and inappropriate braking and acceleration stunts to rattle me and perhaps try to make me run off the road or start hanging back more.
So this was his racket! I now began to see the logic for his unusual road rules. They offered him not only a few advantages most opponents wouldn't realize until too late-- but also the opportunity to try scaring them off if all else failed.
Well, he'd have to do better than that I resolved, after almost ramming him like maybe the third time, even as he floored his little GTO once more to try putting me out of his sight.
Anita next to me was biting her lip. Not saying much, partly because in previous minutes I'd told her our lives depended on her not talking to me.
I wondered if Anita herself was supposed to be a distraction for Dwayne's opponents as much as a witness? For she'd been pretty annoying in the beginning, continuing to jabber and demand attention even after repeated and increasingly strong requests from me to stop it.
But she'd piped down a lot after Dwayne ratcheted up his road war tactics-- and I'd finally gotten pissed enough to yell at her myself.
Then Dwayne lost control.
Only for a second though. And at a pretty fortunate spot in the road, which allowed him to regain the initiative immediately by going with the flow of events, like a driving martial artist.
It was one of the most impressive driving feats I ever witnessed. Firmly in league with things I'd see in years to come from Steve or various professional stunt drivers.
Dwayne's GTO spun around a full 360 degrees after losing rear wheel traction coming out of a particularly hairy curve. Fortunately he'd gained a foothold and inertia onto a brief straight just prior to breaking loose, and was able to regain control and continue on after the spin out almost as if nothing had happened there at all.
Man, it almost looked like he did it on purpose, it was so slick.
I couldn't fully appreciate the awe-inspiring sight at that moment though, because Dwayne had only lost it there while trying to draw me through a curve at bleeding edge speed.
As Dwayne's own 360 spin had slowed him down somewhat, it'd put a real acceleration pinch on my own options for threading the curve. For pushing harder on the gas would cause me to hit him.
Shadow's rear end began skidding off the road. But luck was with us, as my passenger side rear tire actually struck a boulder off the road side which bounced us back to the pavement just when we needed it. Damn! That was close!
Anita knew it too. And actually asked me to give up before Dwayne killed us all.
She seemed to be serious, but she could have just been experienced at the little routine for all I knew.
No way I was going to give up now. I was close to winning!
Dwayne was pulling out all the stops now. For we were nearing the finish line. It was now or never to rid himself of me.
He had one last surprise up his sleeve.
And boy, was it a doozy.
Immediately after he cleared the last major curve in the run and entered a straight ending in a compound baby curve (easy pickings), beyond which we'd pull off to settle up, he slammed on his brakes and pulled a 180 degree turn on the fly, so that our cars were suddenly facing head on, at speed.
Yeah, I almost did a complete panic stop there before I realized he was still moving down the road ahead, only at reduced speed and backwards.
Backwards, at near 60 mph, into a compound curve.
If I'd been sufficiently shocked he could have lost me then and there long enough to win the bet.
And the fact all this was happening somewhere around 11 PM at night made it all the more scarier and difficult to comprehend. His headlights were shining right in my face at the last.
Damn, but he was good. I couldn't have reproduced either of those last two moves of his, myself. Not even in broad daylight.
But my friend Steve and various personal experiences had inured me at least a bit to the radical and unexpected. So although I at first initiated an all out panic stop to avoid ramming him, I managed to abort it before I got below around 30 or 40 mph; if I'd dropped much below that he would have had me beaten in the race as he disappeared out my sight. So I didn't respond as he hoped, instead drastically slowing enough to cope with his maneuver, then continuing to closely follow him the rest of the course and around the last curves to finally pull off and end the contest. Right in the glare of his damn headlights all the way. Which was unnerving and dangerous in itself.
I reckon Dwayne was steering backwards by the light from Shadowfast over that final stretch. I remember thinking he was one crazy bastard.
I figured Dwayne had decided I was a sufficiently good driver that the risk of collision from his scare tactics was minimal: I'd either stop completely and lose too much ground to win, or run off the road to avoid impact. His hunch I wouldn't hit him was correct. But he'd underestimated either me or Shadow or both beyond that point.
Anita was sitting next to me with her mouth hanging open. She'd screamed when we'd suddenly found ourselves facing Dwayne's GTO head on at speed, and nearly blinded by his lights. Now she'd composed herself again, but for her amazement that Dwayne had failed to lose me as expected.
Dwayne himself seemed a bit angry at the outcome, but tried to be a good sport as he handed over the cash.
"Man, I can't believe you stayed on me like that. Nobody ever done that before."
"Well, you got that feller right there part to blame," I said, smiling and pointing at Steve, who was standing nearby trying to hold back a gleeful smile. Although I was plenty pissed by Dwayne's last stunt, so long as I got my money and no harm done I was doing my best to ignore it. If I raised a ruckus I might not get my money at all.
"Why?" Dwayne looked at Steve.
"Because you get used to crazy stuff happening around him," I replied. "If I hadn't been hanging around him for a while now you sure enough would likely have lost me back there somewhere," I finished.
"Well, I'll try to keep that in mind next time I see somebody looking for a race," Dwayne said, eyeing Steve suspiciously as Steve tried to look like he was being unfairly maligned. Dwayne made sure to get Steve's full name so as to avoid racing anyone of his acquaintance again. Ha, ha!
And I was now $75 richer! Hooray! That was enough money to spruce up Shadow some and pay for our upcoming double date with Sienna and Vicki too!
But not long after that the date fell through. Sienna had to help with some relatives' kids due to their mother being hospitalized for a bit. And no, that didn't mean Vicki was still free. Neither Vicki or Sienna's parents would allow their girls to go out on a standard single couple's date. It was double dates or nothing. So either Vicki or Sienna getting tied up in some manner effectively put the kibosh on both of them.
Damn. Oh well. It figured!
Of course the situation could have gotten still more complicated had one of the girls been able to go out on her own after all. For what if she wanted to go out with Steve rather than me? Would I have been willing to loan him my car for the thing? What if it'd turned out to be Steve and Sienna? Agh! I'm glad I was never confronted with that choice.
As I said before, I frequented the parkway in those days. Maybe a week after the double date fell through I was cruising the parkway once again, this time in the opposite direction of our high speed escape from Crosby High.
 This photo showcases the type of daylight views available from the parkway described in this story. |
I can count on one hand the number of times I ever came across a pedestrian walking up there, who seemed to have no car parked in the vicinity. And only one of those I encountered after dark. Of all those lone walkers, I also never recognized any. But for the one I caught walking at night. There were no street lights along the parkway in those days, but for the single one at the largest of the several parking lots distributed along the roadway's length. And the only sidewalks were at the parking areas. So a night-walker was taking their life in their hands on that stretch. And most nights walking in near absolute pitch black darkness, except for the occasional headlights of passing cars. Or any hand light they were lucky enough to possess. Sure, there was a faint glimmer of faraway house lights in a few spots. But not enough to dispel the darkness of the course in a material fashion. I wasn't driving fast to begin with. But I slowed down a lot when I spied the walker. A shapely girl it looked like. With long red hair... |
Surely it wasn't. It couldn't be.
It was. Lindsay. She turned around to face my lights and stick out her thumb. Hitchhiking. Damn! I figured her car must have went kaput again. But I hadn't seen it along the way.
Lindsay looked like she had two black eyes.
I slowed to a stop a bit past her and she was soon in the car with me. She seemed as amazed as me when she realized my identity.
"I can't believe it's you!" she exclaimed.
"Me either! What the heck are you doing on the parkway at night like this Lindsay? You'll get run over! And how'd you get two black eyes?"
"Black eyes?" Lindsay asked with a puzzled racoon look on her face. An extremely cute and puzzled racoon.
"Yeah. You look terrible. Who did that to you?"
Lindsay dug around in her purse for a mirrored compact and asked me to keep the interior light on.
"It's just mascara," she told me, even as it disappeared in a hurried cleanup, allowing me to soon switch off the overhead again.
"Mascara?" I was confused. I was too inexperienced at that time to realize some mascaras would run when a woman cried. Looking back on it now, Lindsay must have been terrified walking alone in a night so dark it would have been easy to accidentally walk off a cliff up there. And there might have been substantial time spans between cars coming through, that time of night and that day of the week.
Lindsay ignored the query about her eyes and answered my previous question.
"I'm walking because a bastard made me get out of his car about thirty minutes ago. But he'll probably be back looking for me anytime."
What the hell?
"Does that mean you want to get out and wait for him?" With this girl anything was possible, I figured. And even normal girls often seemed off their rocker to me.
"Hell no! That son of a bitch can rot in hell for all I care!" Lindsay blasted out at decibels that belied her small frame.
With my eyes still blinking from the atmospheric disturbance of her fury, I asked her where she needed me to take her.
"To Crosby High I guess." Yikes!
"Lindsay, I hate to have to keep asking this, but you're not leading me into another ambush are you?"
These circumstances seemed awfully fishy to me. But I couldn't figure out how anyone could have known ahead of time I was going to come through here tonight.
"What? No! It's just that that's where I parked my car." In the dim illumination provided by my dash lights she looked at me like I was an utter and complete fool.
But I couldn't so easily forget the conclusion of the first lift I ever gave this girl. And damn if I didn't have to keep driving her around again and again and again!
Fate and coincidence were getting really creative here, I thought. Then a picture of Lindsay standing beside my coffin at my viewing flashed before my mind's eye.
"Well, I guess I'll have to find a ride somewhere else," she was saying to my inert form. Sharon was standing beside her and seconded the motion with a simple "Yep."
I resolved to cut way back on my parkway cruising after this.
We pulled into her ill lit school parking lot without incident. Though there were a handful of empty cars spread out over the lot, there was no mob or other menacing signs.
Out of courtesy I stuck around to make sure her car started OK and she actually got moving before I left.
Or at least that was the plan. Her car wouldn't start.
I got out to check it. Leaving Shadow running just in case a fast getaway still proved necessary. I could see mostly empty parking lot around us for at minimum 30 to 40 yards in every direction. Though there were few lights covering the lot, the illumination was adequate to reveal anyone lurking nearby.
Lindsay's car had no power. I opened the hood to find there was no battery.
Damn it!
Lindsay seemed even more perturbed than I though, to judge from her cursing. She seemed to think the same guy who'd stranded her on the parkway had stolen her battery too.
I tried to think of a way out of this other than the obvious, but couldn't. Neither Lindsay or I had the money on us to buy another battery that night.
Plus, I knew from experience this time of night and day of the week were just about the worst time to buy a battery anyway, because of what few outlets there were available to choose from.
So yet again I had to chauffeur her home. And the job wouldn't be complete until we'd somehow fixed her missing battery problem and reunited her with her car once more. Agh!
Well, it was late on a Friday night. I figured I might be able to get her a used battery with some life left in it from a junkyard Saturday. Plus I'd previously arranged to be off that Saturday for the double date Steve and I had with Sienna and Vicki. Before it fell through. I'd meant to use the day part to try doing more repairs on Shadow.
I'd stashed away a little cash for that date too. But I sure didn't want to use it to buy a battery for a girl who'd tried to kill me! Heck, I'd already spent a small fortune on her! And I didn't even know her! Agh!
I explained my plan to Lindsay and she fretted that I would just take her home and do none of the rest of it, leaving her stranded once again. Apparently her brother could be relied upon to do almost nothing.
As I was getting tired of arguing I offered a compromise: we'd return to town where I could let my family know something about what I'd be doing, then take her home, staying there overnight on the couch, then seeing what could be done about her car in the morning.
Of course I didn't exactly provide my parents a complete and straightforward explanation of the scheme. They would definitely have vetoed my actual plan of staying overnight un-chaperoned with an attractive girl my own age. And yet compared to that, any further details about the whole matter would have been much worse, sending them to Defcon level one I was sure! Ha, ha. For naturally they as yet knew nothing about the junkyard arena incident. Yeah, they were aware of Shadow's dunking and sliming in general-- they'd seen and smelled me cleaning him up in the driveway--- but they didn't possess knowledge of precisely how or why it'd happened.
They were accustomed to seeing Shadow sporting signs of unusual circumstances. I'd also gotten really good at making up plausible excuses for same. Steve was a good teacher on that point.
While in town I made sure to retrieve my sleeping bag and an extra set of clothes, plus whatever extra tools I might need. And my stash of date cash too, of course. Agh!
We also stopped to eat. I made sure to get something for Sharon as well.
Sharon got up briefly when we came in, ate every crumb of what we'd brought her, then returned to bed.
Lindsay tried to help me feel comfortable, but their house was in little better shape than before. And their frig hadn't gained much in contents either.
I couldn't understand how these girls were living here!
It turned out they were living mostly off fresh eggs from their chickens, and oatmeal. Lindsay tried to bring in milk for Sharon when she could, but just paying the bills to keep the house and electricity going took almost everything they had.
Lindsay hadn't yet been able to get another full-time job after school, even with her car back on the road again. The unemployment stats in our region were just plain awful at that time. Like around 18% or so. There were seasonal opportunities to be sure, like the nearby tourist trap villages doing a lot of hiring in the summers. But many of those jobs were temporary and part-time. And it wasn't summer-time now.
So it turned out the main tricks Lindsay had been pulling lately were of the prostitution variety. Yikes!
In some ways I'd led a sheltered life, and so actually meeting a girl forced into such things out of desperation was shocking to me.
It turned out her brother hadn't helped matters either in several ways: often proving more of a financial drain than help. Bastard!
So I was starting to see that Lindsay hadn't had much choice in the matter about luring me to that ambush. She really did need the money. That $30 in her purse had been the down payment. They'd been supposed to give her another $20 after I actually showed up, but once I got away they'd stiffed her. In more ways than one, I took it. Yikes!
She told me it might have been fortunate that she left her purse with me-- because the gang would likely have stolen the money back if it'd been available.
Then of course, I'd handed her the promised remaining $20 bounty too atop the money in her purse, when I'd actually driven her home later on. Plus fixed up her car to boot. So eventually she'd ended up with the full reward for trapping me, plus the bonus of free auto repair beyond that.
But all things considered she was by no means enjoying windfall profits here.
All this and more came out in a long talk we had that night.
Man, there ought to be a law against life being so complicated and full of stuff you're helpless to do anything about!
Being so poor myself there was almost nothing I could do to help them. My own family barely scraped by too, living from paycheck to paycheck.
Lindsay and Sharon really needed parents. Bad. But it seemed her dad was basically cut from the same cloth as her brother, and so would be of no help even if he could be found. And her mother was dead, of course.
Did she have uncles or aunts who could help? I'd asked. Nope. Compared to my own family tree, Lindsay's practically had no living branches at all.
I learned Lindsay had been doing some hooking on the parkway when she got booted out. Why'd they leave her? The one guy the deal was for had picked her up at the school parking lot, then unexpectedly rendezvoused with a couple buddies elsewhere, all of them figuring to ride on the same cash. Maybe at the same time. Yikes!
Lindsay had balked at that and been dumped out on the parkway. Then after stranding her there they'd returned to her car and filched her battery too!
Man! And I thought I had a rough life! Ugh!
We talked until around 4 or 5 AM, at which point I told Lindsay I just had to get some shut eye. Poor thing seemed like the talking was therapeutic for her, but I'd just had a long day of my own. And it'd take some doing to get a decent battery for her the next day at a price we could afford.
The next day though it occurred to me where to get a great deal on a battery. Maybe. I went and asked Steve about the battery off his defunct Boss 351. He still had the car. We were in process of stripping it to turn it into a dragster. But it looked to be a long time before his car took to the track.
Sure enough, he still had the battery. And after I told him what it was for he just let me have it for free! Steve could be an awfully generous fellow at times.
Turned out sitting around idle so long had drained it though, and I'd have to let it feed on dad's charger for hours before putting it into Lindsay's vehicle.
In light of Steve's generosity and my new knowledge of Lindsay's situation-- as well as the cash stash for the date which fell through-- I decided it was time to do something nice and unexpected for somebody. So I returned to Lindsay's house and gathered up her and Sharon for a picnic. We stopped to pick up some fried chicken and fixings and traveled to a favorite spot of mine near a river. Little Sharon couldn't wait, so we let her munch on the way.
There were some good walking trails nearby, and we took advantage of them. It turned out to be a perfect day for such an outing. Practically no bugs were around. It was bright and sunny but not too hot. We had the whole place to ourselves. Just about damn perfect.
I noted that the general conditions were never this fine where my dates were concerned. No, my love life much more often resembled the Apocalypse. At least in its more interesting moments. Agh!
So maybe the canceled double date with Sienna and Vicki might have spared my hometown an earthquake or something, I mused. Heck: it might even have spared the lives of all four of us-- myself, Steve, and the girls.
Lindsay, Sharon, and I stayed there for hours, with Lindsay apparently getting in the rest of the talk she'd wanted to the previous night.
As the afternoon waned I got us packed up again and headed back to town. Both girls seemed more content than I'd ever seen them so far.
We stopped briefly at my parents' place to pick up the battery, which I put in the floorboard behind Lindsay's seat (Sharon was sitting on the other side). Then we returned to Lindsay's car, installed the battery, and the car fired right up!
Lindsay and Sharon wanted me to follow them home and I told them I wouldn't be far behind them: I had a side trip I had to make along the way.
What I actually did was backtrack to town to an IGA supermarket and spend the remainder of my date stash on some groceries like milk, bread, jelly, cheese, etc. Then I went back to Lindsay's.
I was a bit chagrined to hear Sharon ask if I'd brought her a toy too. But I think I smoothed things over with her by getting her to describe exactly what sort of item she'd like me to bring her the next time I came.
While Lindsay put away the groceries I checked out her car's fluids and tire pressures.
I was surprised to find Sharon had fallen asleep on the couch by the time I was done.
A second surprise came when Lindsay walked up to me and didn't stop until she was hugging me.
"Thank you so much for all this," she told me, with her face just a couple inches from mine.
My own hands had settled on her waist of their own accord.
"You're welcome Lindsay," I replied.
"I'm so sorry I caused you all that trouble when we first met. But if I hadn't you wouldn't be here now," she breathed.
"Believe me Lindsay, I understand now. I just wish I knew how to help you and Sharon get out of this pinch you're in."
"But you are helping!"
"Ahh-- it's not nearly enough. You shouldn't have to be raising yourself and your sister all on your own. It's not right."
Lindsay stiffened. And put a couple more inches distance between us.
"You're not talking about us going to an orphanage, are you? Because I won't let them separate us!"
"No! No! Nothing like that! I just...I don't know. I just wish you weren't having such a hard time of it. That's all. I just don't know what to do about it. What I can do about it."
"Well...you could stop by more often. If you want." Lindsay smiled, and moved closer once again.
Whoa! Even my chronic love-sickness over Sue Anne was starting to waver in the moment! Lindsay was awfully pretty. Even more so close up than farther away. Which seemed the opposite of lots of folks I'd met.
I laughed nervously.
"Well, I couldn't take you out on a picnic every day," I smiled back.
"Who says you'd have to? It'd be nice just to have you here, I think," Lindsay said softly.
I definitely wasn't ready for this conversation.
"Well, I guess your car could use a little more work. I could..." I began.
Lindsay interrupted me with a kiss. I kissed her back. It seemed the thing to do.
Wow. Two teenagers without chaperones in the middle of nowhere, making out. That can be one inflammatory mix.
For a minute or two there a great tug of war went on inside me. The terrain was one of utter confusion and conflicting priorities and ambitions. My awful crush on Sue Anne grappled with my building lust for Lindsay. And my not-quite-decided feelings for Sienna were in there somewhere, too.
Then there was the information of Lindsay's prostitution. Yikes! And her original betrayal of me for ambush. Ben's warning. The overwhelming responsibilities implied in taking care of Lindsay and Sharon...
I just couldn't do it. I gently withdrew from our embrace.
"What's wrong?" Lindsay asked.
"Lindsay, I-- I can't be the one to take care of you," I stammered.
"Who said anything about you taking care of me?"
"Well-- nobody, I guess. But I don't want to make promises I can't keep--"
"Who asked you to make promises? Not me!" Lindsay suddenly began crying and left the room. Somehow Sharon slept through the ruckus.
Oh man. I felt horrible. But I knew I was speaking the truth. I wasn't up to taking care of Lindsay and Sharon!
I didn't know what else to do or say, so I let myself out.
As I was turning Shadow around to leave Lindsay came running outside.
"Where're you going?" she asked.
"Home, I guess. I'm sorry I upset you, Lindsay. I didn't mean to."
"You'll come back won't you?"
I hesitated for a second. I truthfully was lost in the complexities of the circumstances. Plus, my raising tended to force me to be a little too direct and honest at times.
"Is there something you or Sharon need I can help you with on another trip?" I asked.
Lindsay looked at me for a second before she answered.
"No. Nothing at all." Then she started crying again. Oh man, I couldn't take it!
I couldn't think of what to say to that, so I just turned away. Tears were welling up in my own eyes and I didn't want Lindsay to see them.
"Sharon expects you to bring her a make up kit!" Lindsay yelled as I pulled out. Reminding me of Sharon's gift request.
A teenage boy is not supposed to be burdened with such responsibilities as caring for two girls like this. Of course, a teenage girl like Lindsay wasn't supposed to be faced with such things either.
No matter how hard I tried to avoid it, I just kept thinking more and more about Lindsay and Sharon as the days went by. Then a week. Two weeks.
But my mind just raced in circles. There seemed no way to reconcile Lindsay and Sharon's needs for schooling, food, shelter, and much, much more, with the resources available.
Heck: even if I was crazy enough to marry Lindsay and help her raise Sharon, I doubted we could make it.
And it really would be crazy to marry Lindsay. Wouldn't it?
I mean, I wanted to do different things with my life than that! Lots of them! And we barely knew each other!
Keep in mind how young I was then. I had only a limited grasp on what options were available to Lindsay, Sharon, and myself at the time. So I was in similar straits to Lindsay herself in that regard.
Lindsay and Sharon really did need grownup help. Of that I was certain. Maybe of the orphanage kind. The very thing Lindsay seemed adamantly against.
Dex Vincent was a teacher-in-training at my high school. He sat amongst the regular students in my French class, and seemed like a really cool guy. Me, Steve, Ben, and another couple buddies all attended that class, and really liked Dex.
After doing some thinking on the matter, I decided to consult Dex on it. Leaving actual names out of it, of course.
Dex seemed to think I'd gotten Lindsay pregnant or something. Or Steve had. It took considerable effort to get him to put aside that notion.
Basically Dex suggested the same thing I figured was necessary: turning the matter over to the appropriate authorities. But I was sure Lindsay (and maybe Sharon too) would hate me forever if I did that.
"Sometimes doing the right thing by someone comes at a high cost for us personally," Dex told me. "This is a tough world, and from what you've told me those girls are only going to see it get tougher if something doesn't change."
I was positive I couldn't persuade Lindsay to such a course of action. No, I'd have to do what seemed like betrayal in her eyes to help them.
I just could see no other way.
I knew Lindsay loved her sister. And I was afraid they might indeed be separated by the system. But surely Lindsay would be released from it when she struck eighteen. Sharon was the one who'd be in it for quite a while.
I also talked about it in the same anonymous manner with my mom. She basically said the same thing as Dex, but with some possible church help thrown in too.
Nearly three weeks after our picnic I decided to go check on Lindsay and Sharon. First though I shopped around until I found something like Sharon had described she wanted, that I could also afford (Man, but it was embaressing to shop for and buy that cosmetics kit!). Then I headed their way.
They weren't home. Neither of them. Lindsay's car was gone too. So hopefully it was still running.
I tried again a few days later. Same story. I began to wonder if they were all right.
When a third visit turned up no change, I started getting truly antsy. I turned amateur detective in an effort to find out if they were OK.
I managed to contact Trixie, Lindsay's friend who'd come to retrieve her purse. The news wasn't good. Lindsay and Sharon had disappeared. Trixie said it was possible they'd packed up and run away to somewhere, because Lindsay had attracted the attention of a prostitute ring leader, who was now pressuring her to join his stable.
Trixie either had no idea where they might be now, or wasn't willing to tell me.
I was stymied.
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