The Wise Warrior Avoids The Battle. -- Master Sun Tzu / The Art Of War
"What Cha Gonna Do Now"?
"I Donna Know. Gotta Think".
So There We Were.
Two South Central, L.A. Hood Rat Surfer Kid's, Broken Down & Dirty, Having Just Slow Rolled To A Stop, Parallel To A Sign On The Side Of The Two Lane Interstate That Gave Us Our Coordinates.
Salina, Kansas. Population 46,192.
Time: 05:28
Date: June 17th, 1966
Temperature: 88 Degrees
Humidity: 73
"What Happened"?
"The Engine Blew Up".
Dyrell Titus, Lifted Her Gold Frame Aviator Sunglasses Just Enough To Glare At Me With Her Head Slightly Tilted To The Right, The Slight Wind Catching Her Long, Wavy Blond Hair.
Giving Me That Calm, South Cali, Female Emasculating Look.
"You Blew Up The Engine? You Stupid Idiot Dumb Pretty Boy. I Hate You.
You Blew Up The Engine. How In The Damn Hell Did You Do That"?
There I Stood.
All Of 5 Feet, 6 Inches Tall.
138 Pounds Of Emasculated Boy Child.
Waiting On A Knock Out Straight Right To The Kisser. Girl Wasn't Playin.
"Ummm, Well, Ummm, Like, See. Well You Fell Asleep Somewhere In Iowa... And Uhmmm, I Got Bored & Well, Just Wanted To See How Fast The Car Would Go".
We Were Heading Back West After Stopping In Chicago Coming From A Visit To Dyrell's Grandparents Before We Headed Out To The Grand Canyon.
"It Was So Cool. We Were Trackin Over 120. We Were Flyin Low. And..."
I'll Interject At This Time.
Dyrell Was West Coast Gorgous.
Body By Fischer.
Cadillac Eldorado Division.
5 Feet Nine. Damn Ass Fine.
Stacked. Racked. Step Da Hell Back.
A High School Football Team Cheerleader & Like Myself, Practiced In Martial Arts.
"You Got Bored? What The Hell Do You Mean. You Got Bored. Idiot. You Blew Up The Damn Engine".
There I Stood.
In My 501 Button Fly Jeans, Black Oakland Raiders T-Shirt & My Black Converse High Tops.
Head Hung Down Low Like A Beat Dog.
Waiting On The Atomic Knock Out Punch.
"Well, Uhmm, Ahhh, Shit. You Were Sound Asleep Snoring. No Radio Reception. I Mean Jeez. I Just Wanted To See How Fast The Car Would Go & Well..."
"Oh My GOD. Asshole. I Don't Snore. I'm Gonna Knock You The Hell Out On To The Ground".
My 16 Year Old Self Was Actually At A Complete Lose For Words.
"Idiot. What In The Hell Is Wrong With You"?
"Damn Dyrell. Calm Down. Remember What Sensie Always Says. Stay Calm. No Matter What. This Is Not That Big Of A Deal. For Real. It Was So Cool. We Were Flyin Low. You Would Have Been Stoked If Would Not Have Been Sleep Snoring".
"You Stupid Idiot. I'm Gonna Send You Flyin Low. Your So Damn Immature. There Goes The Entire Summer. Sitting Back In South Central Like Morons Until We Head Off To College. I Hate You. I'm Gonna Lay You Out".
"Girl. Chill. Your Overreacting. Everything Is Gonna Work Out Jus Fine".
"I'm Gonna Kill You Pretty Boy & Leave You On The Side Of This Road".
"Baby...".
"Baby? Baby? I'm Gonna Damn Ass Kill You. Don't You Baby Me".
Time To Retreat.
Girl Wasn't Playin.
I Calmly Walked Around The Right Side Of The Pontiac, Talking In A Soft, Faint Whisper, Begging LORD GOD ALMIGHTY To Save Me From This Beautuful Girl's Angry Wrath.
I Walked Around The Trunk To The Left Side Of The Giant Car.
Across The Wide Expense Of The Pontiacs Hood She Stated To Me In A Calm, Angry, Pissed Off Voice:
"Really Idiot. What Are You Gonna Do"?
"Pleeezee, Just Calm Down. I Can't Think With You All Atomic Ballistic Up My Ass.
C'mon. You Know Better Than To Rage. Paleezee Girl. Calm Down. Awaight"?
"I'm Gonna Kill You Ryan. I Hate You".
With That, Dyrell Climbed Into The Passenger Side Of The Car & Slammed The Door Shut.
Flipped Me Off. Then Just Glare Stared Out The Windshield.
There We Were.
In The Hot Humid, Sunny Salina, Kansas Wheat Field.
Time: 05:49
There Wasn't A Car On The Road.
My Heart Was Broken.
My Very First Car. Like Brand New, Red Stripe Tires Giving Her That Cool Street Rod Accent.
Now Just Smoking Detroit Metal.
Broken Down On The Side Of The Road In The Middle Of No Where In A Never Ending Wheat Field.
Not To Mention It Was More Than Likely That I Would Never Ever Tap That Sweet Sweet Gorgous Dyrell Thang Again.
I Hopped Up Onto 'Bonnies' Hood. Retrieved The Box Of Malboros From My Jeans Pocket. Flipped Open The Box & Stuck A Cancer Stick In My Grill. Grabbed The Zippo Lighter & Hit The Marlboro Up.
I Looked Over My Shoulder Through The Windshield, Smiled At Dyrell.
My Medium Long Curly Dirty Blonde Hair Catching A Slight Wind & Threw A Wink At The Beautiful Blue Eyed Girl.
Dyrell Caught My Act & With A Cool Laided Back, South Cali Surfer Girl Look, Stuck Out Her Tounge & Flipped Me Off.
I Was Fucked To Inth Degree.
So There I Was, Sucking Down Marlboros, With A Hang Dog Looked Spread Across My Grill. Not A Damn Car In Sight.
This Scenario Continued On For Just About Two Hours.
Time: 07:37
Temperature: Real Fuckin Hot.
Humitiy: Steam Bath.
Sun: Bright As Hell.
Wind Velocity: Zero.
Then Low & Behold, I Glance Over My Left Shoulder.
Lumbering Down The Interstate Towards Us, A 1953 Chevy Pick- Up Dooley, Faded Black & Kicking Up Dust.
I Hop Off The Pontiacs Hood & Flag Down The Pick-Up.
I Quick Glance Dyrell.
Girl Actually Smiling & Doing That Yippee Yippee Girl Thang In The Passenger Seat.
Just Maybe.
The Padlock Was Now Off That Steal Frame, Fine Fine Pussey Entrance Way.
The '53' Chevy Dooley Pick Up Slows Down & Pulls Along Side The Pontiac, Then Slowly Angles To The Right & Pulls Off To The Interstate Shoulder In Front Of Us Kicking Up Rooster Tails Of Dust.
Yip Fuckin Eee!!! Rescued.
Time: 07:51
The Driver Side Door Springs Open.
Out Steps This Dude.
About Six Foot Six.
Trim 230 Pounds.
Farm Boy Wearing Baggy Overalls, Red Plaid Long Sleeve Shirt, Sleeves Rolled Up Past His Giant Forearms, Brown Cowboy Boots & A Brown Cowboy Hat.
He Walks Up To Me & In A Slow, Low Pitch, Midwestern Southern Drawl Says:
"What's The Problem Boy"?
"Blew The Engine".
"Pop The Hood Son".
Farmboy Stands Over Me While I Dis Engage The Hood Latch & Spits Out A Puddle Of Tobacco Juice.
He Adjusts His Cowboy Hat & Leans His Massive Head Into The Engine Compartment.
"Hell Shit Fire Son, You Sure In The Hell Blew This Engine The Fuck Up".
"Yep".
Dyrell Is Now Standing Next To Me With That Female I'm Gonna Kill You Ryan Look On Her Gorgeous Face.
"This Ain't Nothin But A Thing. C'mon Kid's Jump In The Truck. I'm Heading Into Town. My Uncle Butch Owns A Used Car Dealership. Lock Her Up. Hop On In My Truck. Butch Will Get You Kids Back On Down The Road".
Into The '53' Chevy Pickup We Jump.
Dyrell Sitting Between Us.
I Smile At Dyrell, She Just Rolls Her Baby Blues.
"My Names Buck. Whats Ya All's Name".
"My Name is Ryan. This Is Dyrell".
"Hey Ryan. Hey Dyrell. Whats Cha All Doing Way Out Here"?
"We're On Way To The Grand Canyon. Touring The Country Before We Start College".
"Where Ya All From".
"L.A."
"Cali Fornia. Shit. I Was Stationed In Diago. Camp Pendleton. Just Got Back From Da Nam A Month Ago".
"Wow. My Dad's A Marine. My Oldest Brother Is A Marine Aviator & My Second Oldest Brother Is A Marine Recon Sergeant".
"Well Damn Son. Semper Fi".
"Semper Fi Buck".
"You Joining The Corps"?
"My Dad Won't Let Me. I'm The First One In My Family To Attend College".
Little Did I Know That The Day I Turned 18, I Was Getting Drafted & Off To Da Nam I Went. A Commisioned Marine Corps Second Lieutenant.
"Your Pops Is Smart. It's A Fuckin Meat Grinder Over There".
"What Was Your M.O.S."?
"50 Cal Operator. Nothin Says Lovin Like A Belt Fed 50".
We All Laughed.
We Drive Into Town, Then Over To His Uncle's Used Car Dealership.
"Wait Here In The Truck, I'm Gonna Talk To My Uncle Butch".
Dyrell & Sit In The Truck. I Break The Deadly Silence.
"See. See. Everything Is Gonna Work Out Just Fine Like I Said. Everything Is Gonna Be Awaight".
"Shut Up. Your An Idiot. I Hate You. Just Shut Up".
"C'mon Baby. Don't Be Dis Way".
"Listen Little Man, You Call Me Baby One More Time, I'm Gonna Knock You Out On The Ground".
I Just Hung My Head. Just Like A Beat Dog.
"Your So Stupid. There Goes All The Money. What Are We Gonna Do Now? Huh. Drive Back To South Central & Sit Around All Summer Like Idiots Before Heading Off To College? Your An Idiot. I Hate You".
For Sure Now, The Steel Frame Door Opening Up Into Pussey Heaven Was Forever Shut Tight.
I Look Up Out Of The Truck Window, Walking Towards Us Is Buck & His Uncle Butch.
Butch Was Larger Than Buck, If That Was Even Possible.
Butch Was Dressed In Black Cowboy Boots, Black Slacks, Powder Blue Botton Down Collar Shirt & A Blue Plaid Sports Jacket.
"Kid's, This Is My Uncle Butch. Butch, This Is Ryan. This Is Dyrell. I'm Gonna Walk Across The Street & Grab A Burger.
Your In Good Hands Kid's".
"C'mon Kid's Walk With Me. Got Somethin To Show You".
We Walk With Butch Through The Thick Maze Of Cars.
"Heard You Blew The Engine In Your Car. What Kind Of Car Is It"?
"A '63' Pontiac Bonneville 4 Door. Loaded. Less Than 10 Thousand Miles".
"Really? What Cha Got Under The Hood"?
"455".
"No Kiddin. Sweet Jesus. My Guys Just Rebuilt A Pontiac 455. Got It Up On Chains".
We Walk Around The Sales Building, Back Towards The Big Garage.
Then Around The South Side Of The Garage.
Sitting There Is A Dark Green 1956 Four Door Dodge Royal With Black Inserts Down The Middle Of The Car Front To Rear.
Car Standing Tall.
"She's A Beauty Ain't She"?
"Yeah. Like New".
"All Original. Belonged To Pastor Young. He Bought It New. Took Care Of It Like A New Born Baby. When He Passed Away His Wife Just Wanted The Car Gone. She Purrs Like A Kitten. 318 Under The Hood.
Damn.
Dejavue.
I Thought To Myself.
The Pontiac Belonged To An Old Jewish Man.
When He Died, His Wife Just Wanted The Car Gone.
I Had Come Full Circle.
Complete Judeo/Christian Auto Transformation.
She Was A Beauty. Only 38,000 Miles.
"How Much Ya Want For Her"?
"Tell Ya What Son. Got That Rebuilt 455 Up On Chains. Dodge Been Here A Year & A Half. Trade Ya Even Up".
"Wow Butch. That's So Cool. I Just Put Brand New Uniroyal Red Stripe Tires All The Way Around On The Pontiac. Would Ya Switch Them Onto The Dodge"?
"Buck Tells Me That You Come From A Marine Corps Family. I'm A Marine As Well Son. Nothin Like Keepin It In The Family. Semper Fi Son. You Got A Deal".
"Thank You Mr. Butch".
As Butch Walked Away. Dyrell Grabbed Me.
"I Love You Ryan. Your So Cool".
Uh Huh. My Pimp Hand Strong.
Ryan. Out.
