as of last update, my fucked up civic is sitting in my neighber’s driveway. they don’t live there and gave us permission to use the driveway to give the appearance that someone lives there.
well the neighbers next door already started bitching so i had to move the civic again.
my new friend bry offers his barn in Walls, MS to store my car while i sell every last screw on ebay. my tow truck driver gets here, a 50 something tow truck driver.
he asks me within minutes of me getting in his cab and giving him the “yeah we’re going to Walls” directions, if i smoke. i say naw but i don’t mind if he does. he then asks me if i smoke weed.
we havn’t even got to Poplar yet.
i grow more and more comfortable with tow truck driver, being the social and inquisitive creature that i am, start asking questions. I hear about his current wife who has totalled her car after 2 wrecks, the step daughters he has from this wife, who sit around all day watching tv and using up the air conditioner.
He gives me the advice that women are like buses and once one passes, another one will be along in 5 minutes. we are bonding. i feel good.
around stateline rd, i made a pretty fatal mistake.
now i am a child of google, every question has a answer and that answer is fact. and now i ask this question of almost every “hardcore” person i ever meet, whether they be a new orleans taxi driver or a memphis tow truck driver
toad: what’s the most fucked up thing you’ve seen in this line of work?
now normally i get the answer i want, i get my little tease of their life and i go about my way feeling like a vampire, sucking memories from anyone who walks into my alley.
he says “well, i’ve been on this job 20 years”.
i am enticed, lured, okay, i ask, whats the most recent one.
he tells me about this wreck at knight arnold and american way, im pretty sure it was that intersection, if it exists, well, it doesn’t matter anyway if it doesn’t.
he said a buick skylark, going roughly 100mph down american way, hit a bump in the curb, goes upside and beheads the driver of a Jeep going the opposite way. the guy in the skylark’s face was pressed against the inside glass of the car, eyes wide with the look of “oh shit” still on his face.
great, can’t wait to go to sleep tonight.
he obviously senses i’m shocked so we go into another story.
he tells me about this huge dude, weighs like 350, steps in front of a car and gets run down by the guy’s girlfriend’s new boyfriend. it’s raining and my tow truck driver is waiting for “meat wagon” to get the body so he can tow the car. the car still being there since the guy knew he fucked up after he ran down the dude so he waited for the cops.
anyway, the ambulance pulls up, and i quote “a girl weighing 90 pounds wet and a gay guy jump out”. they pull and tug on this huge black corpse, in the rain, before the tow truck driver finally gets out in the rain, pulls the body in the body bag and helps them get it into the ambulance.
this guy is fucking hardcore.
he sees me reach into my backpack and pull out this weird orange thing. i hand it to him and say “i want you to have this”. he sees the name and mentions his wife and ex wife and hores. he assumes it’s a porn site. i can never explain what crackhore is about but it’s not porn.
*wink valerie wink*
we find brian’s grandparent’s house, the new resting home of my civic, i tip him fairly and he departs.
we manage to get my battered car into the bar and start ripping it apart, brian saving what he wants, me saving what i want. i now know how to tear about just about everything inside my civic.
the feeling of watching it slowly hobble into the barn where it shall rest until we have stripped it of everything sellable.
i don’t think it hit me but i loved that car. it felt like i was burying marla.
i miss my civic.
this is it’s revenge.