Summary--Lucas starts traveling to New York where he meets two strangers in a roadside restaurant where he is told the tale of a horrible vindictive woman.
Three years ago, I took a teacher training class to learn how to compose and submit a document for publication. At the time, I told my guy teacher friends that I choose this class because it was taught by our school's superhot looking English teacher. I knew that I would never have a chance with her however; her being 5 foot two, built like a brick outhouse, with dark brown, mid back, naturally curly hair made her nice eye candy to help pass the time in teacher staff development. The truth be known, she really was just icing on the cake for a required task. I would never admit to my guy friends that I really chose the class at the school I teach at to fulfill my staff development requirement as well as to help put down the stereotype that industrial Arts teachers are cretins and stupid. We are really; yet why let people think what they want. If you can not impress them with your bull shit then dazzled with your smarts.
As fate would have it, what I wrote was published in a vocational teacher's nationally published journal. The publishers like the article I wrote so much that I was put on the magazine's contributor’s board. A high honor to be sure but, the real kicker was that I was given a free trip by the magazine to New York for a board meeting. I was given plane and meal tickets, cab fair and hotel accommodations. I accepted the travel vouchers only to cash them all for the cash. Don't worry; I never thought about not going to New York. I did not want to miss the experienced of participating at the board meeting but going first class is not my style. I would rather use that money for a down payment on a boat or something. I decided to drive my own car and stay at a Holiday Inn or something for a fraction of the cost. Anyway, I'm on summer vacation until September. I have more time than money so; driving would not be a hardship for me. Driving actually seemed like more of an adventure to my way of thinking. Little did I know how much of an adventure it would be for me? Anyway, you can't see the countryside from an airplane. Not that there's much to see on a road trip through the United States' Midwest Ohio Valley.
At six o'clock in the morning in my trusty rusty Chevy I began my journey with a packed sack lunch of pimentos cheese sandwiches and a cooler of soft drinks. That first day, I drove across the Great Plains with only rock 'n roll music as my companion. With the mountains in view I started to feel a slight miss in the old V-8. I listening and waited for the moment when the engine would stop altogether but to my surprise the engine miss turned into a ragged, sluggish lope. Not being able to take it anymore, I pulled over for a look at the engine. With dreaded anticipation, I opened the hood for a quick look. The first thing that came into view was a spark plug wire hanging free. I said, "Crap a spark plug has blown out of its hole." Apparently, when I completed a tune up last week I must have forgotten to tighten the number seven spark plug. The missing spark plug allowed the air fuel mixture to pass through the exposed hole every time the piston went up and down. Not a terminal problem but a distressing one nonetheless. With hope in my heart I checked the hanging plug wire hoping that the plug was still there but of course Murphy's Law held true. The plug was missing.
Now what? I took a look around to see a sign advertising a motel at the next exit a couple miles down the road. My first thought was if I could only find a spark plug. I was to find out that the only auto parts store in the little town where the motel resided closed at six. I checked my watch and it was 6:25, 25 minutes after closing.
I thought to myself, "What kind of places this?" Everything closes at six? And, they don't even have a Wal-Mart?" Well as I found out it was the kind of place that has a motel with a motel restaurant that mainly catered to the transient traffic of the interstate highway.
Devoid of any options, I checked into the motel. After checking in and carrying my overnight bag into the hotel room, I picked up the phone dialing zero for the operator. The attendant at the front desk answered and I asked him if the hotel's restaurant was a good place to eat. The desk attendant’s answer was, "I guess it has to be, it is the only restaurant in town.” I hung up without response to mosey across the parking lot for dinner.
Being alone I didn't want to sit at a table. As luck would have it there was space available at the counter. I ordered a burger and fries with a draft beer. Of course they didn't have draft beer so; I had to settle for a Cola. The waitress finished taking the order and walked away as I sat waiting for the cook to finish his task at hand.
My attention wandered until I noticed two companions a couple seats away in deep conversation. While I listened to their conversation one of them let out a loud laugh and mocked his friend. He said, "Shut your mouth, I don't want to hear another word. I can't stand to hear such an absurd, incredible lie. When you opened your mouth, I must admit you had my attention. I said to myself, "I would like a piece of this. I wouldn't mind making a few bucks. Even after all was said and done even if I said no, it would have been fun just to listen, even if only to pass the time."
His companion replied with a laugh, "I kid you not, I'm not lying, what I said is true, I swear my story is as pure as driven snow, as true as the love in a mother’s kiss."
For some unknown reason all of a sudden I was more interested in his story than his dinner companion. Even though I'm not one to butt in on a couple of strangers’ conversation, I still blurted out, "Don't stop, I would like to hear the rest of your story. He might not be interested but I am." I looked at the stranger next to myself. I said, "Maybe you need to open your mind and not mock and condemned those things that are told to you for your enlightenment. You never know there may be a diamond in the rough just waiting for you to pluck it.
© Copyright 2016 Alexander Arnell. All rights reserved.
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