Browse Category: Heron Flight

STRIKES TWICE

20051025strikestwice

(Originally posted on the website Heron Flight)

Can you believe it? Someone crashed into my car again! This time it was intentional and the culprit fled the scene… in a dump truck!

Last Friday, I picked up Arissa from work at 6 PM. We were traveling down a four lane road with traffic lights scattered along the way. Suddenly, a dump truck went barreling around us on the right. He was weaving in and out of traffic at a ridiculous speed. He almost caused one car to crash and had to jam on his breaks to avoid running into the back of another. It was crazy! I said to Arissa, “Now that’s the kind of guy that I wish would hit someone’s car, not enough to hurt anyone, just enough to get himself in trouble.”

At one of the lights we had to make a left. There are two lanes that make that left turn at that spot. The light was red. The truck was in the left lane. We were in the right, slightly ahead of him. When the light turned green I stayed close to the line between the lanes. Just a hundred yards after making the turn, the driver in the truck must have decided it was time to force me out of his way. I heard his engine rev, saw his headlights come up fast in my side mirror. He intentionally swerved the truck into the back corner of my car. Crash! He pushed us right out of his way and rocketed down the road. Meanwhile, another car in front of him tried to get out of his way, hit the curb and almost lost control in the middle of all the traffic.

We were shocked! I stomped on the gas to catch up to the truck. We got his license plate number. Then we pulled up along side of him to see the company name on the side of his truck. By this time we had reached another light. He glared down at me with an insane look on his face as if he’d run us completely over if he got the chance. I gave him a cocky smile and nodded. I had a plan.

At the next light was the local police station. By the time we reached that light, traffic was clogged. We pulled in to the station and ran to the door. The truck was stuck in traffic as we entered. The man who hit the curb followed us in. We told the police what happened and they radioed their patrolmen.

Sad to say, the police did not find the truck! How can you not find a large dump truck, a red one no less, that is stuck in after work traffic?? All we could think was that the driver made a mad flight through the side streets and eluded the police.

At this point, I am waiting to hear if the police locate this maniac. There was some confusion because the license plate was registered in a different town than the address on the side of the truck. I was told to give the investigators several days. Hopefully, they will find the jerk and he will have to pay to get my car fixed. However, the police said there is no guarantee. At least the car is drivable and maybe I’ll get another check from the insurance company. Just in time for Christmas!

THE CHOKING SILENCE

(Originally posted on the website Heron Flight)

20051024chokingsilence

It is not in this way that we will rise

It is not in this way that we will shine

The rope around our necks

The hand upon our mouths

Choking silence

All of all against our efforts

This is not the way

Yet the way shall open.

BY CHANCE TWO PERVERTS MEET

(Originally posted on the website Heron Flight)

It was a drizzly Thursday night. I got home from band practice around 11:00. After unloading my gear, I decided to walk the few blocks to the ATM in order to get cash for lunch the next day. Main Street, which typically conducts a steady stream of traffic through the day, was deserted. I was able to walk across in the middle of the block.

I was quietly enjoying my thoughts in the rain as I headed toward the bank. Suddenly, a mini van swerved towards the curb nearby. The driver, a middle-aged, clean cut white guy, quickly opened the passenger window and called to me. I half expected two brutes in black clothing and ski masks to hop out of the side door and shanghai my unsuspecting white ass off to some warehouse. There to torture me for answers I didn’t have or hold me for ransom that no one I knew could possibly afford. Though, I couldn’t understand what one white middle class guy could hope to gain by so treating another barely middle class white guy.

However, as I hesitantly took a step closer to the van, the driver asked, “Hey buddy, do you know if there’s a strip joint around here?”

With a chuckle of relief and a bit of surprise in my voice I said, “Uh, yeah. Sure. Take a left right there. About a block down there’s a strip place.”

He repeated, “A left right there and one block down?”

The encounter began to strike me as quite comic. In a matter of split seconds, about the time it took him to nearly skid to a halt on Main Street, my appraisal of my family-vehicle-driving friend had raced to the extreme of prime time American crime show action then slid into the mire of late night male hormonal frustration. The rain dripped on.

I couldn’t resist. My friend was obviously in a desperate rush. I had to mess with him.

Just as he was ready to stomp on the gas, I suggested, “You know… that place around the corner looks kind of dumpy.”

“What? Really?”

“Yeah. But there’s this other place just off of Main Street a few blocks back. I think that one is better.”

“How do I get there?”

Mischievously happy to delay him, I continued, “Well, let’s see. If you turn left here and go one block down to where the first place that I told you about is, then turn left again, you would have to go two more blocks and turn left onto Washington Street. Yeah, you have to go that way because Washington Street is a one way.”

He was a bit confused. Only one thing was on his mind and the details I was giving just weren’t sinking in.

“Say that again,” he said.

“Okay. Turn left here. Go one block. Turn left again. Go two blocks. Turn left one more time. The place is called Delilah’s.”

“Oh thanks, man! I really appreciate your help!” He sped away.

“Oh a bet you do!” I thought.

I laughed out loud at the thought of the encounter, enjoying the slightly twisted amusement of it all. Then realized. Washington Street is one way in the other direction! Poor fellow.

I stepped my way through the rain.