Dec. 24: Gas station encounters
Me and Billy are driving through Kentucky
we're talking about the theory of Evolution
Billy says to me:
"Well I see that it's a problem
but to tell you the truth, I can't find the solution."
I didn't answer
instead I just sat there
the only thing I did was give my head a little nod
Billy said: "Hey,
you gonna answer my question?"
I said: "I don't know the answer
because I'm not God."
Then my friend Billy
pulled into this gas station
and I got out to stretch my legs
Billy asked me if I'd like a Dr. Pepper
I said that I didn't have any change
But when Billy came back out
he handed me a Dr. Pepper
he said: "Don't you worry 'cause this one is on me."
So I sat back
and had a drink of Dr. Pepper
and thought it was cool how we sat around and disagreed.
Then these two girls
came out of the gas station
Billy said the one on the left was kinda cute
One of them was pretty
the other, not so pretty.
I'm sorry I have to say that but hey, it's the truth.
The pretty girl
was wearing these tight jean shorts
smiled at me and asked me my name.
I guess I could have had her
but I told her goodbye
'cause sometimes in life you want to play a fair game.
Then my friend Billy
stuck the keys in the ignition
but that old car of his just wouldn't start
I looked over at Billy
and I saw that he was grinning
he said: "That's what you get for buying a 63 Skylark."
I said we'd have to hitchhike
but Billy didn't like that
I could see something going on in his mind.
He said: "Human nature,
do you think it's good or evil?"
I said: "It doesn't matter 'cause we're all the same kind."
-
None of that is true, by the way. It's a work of fiction. I have no idea who Billy is, though I imagine he's a contemporary of the narrator, who I won't identify here. I have a vague understanding of how Billy found the 63 Skylark. I think the pretty girl might have had a cell phone in the back pocket of her jean shorts. I say might because this encounter might have taken place in the 90s. I'm not sure if it is poetry or lyrics or just something that spilled out of me while I was working on another project. All I know is that it's 25 years old and I still think it's kinda cool. That's my fictional gas station encounter.
-
Rachel, who was assigned today's title, revealed it to me in early December. I don't like it when people do that - the whole point of note-a-day is I write these things on the fly - but I don't fly off the handle when it happens. It's just part of doing business with buggabugga going on.
I tried to think of some memorable gas station encounters I might have had but my memory betrayed me. The only thing I could remember was that time in my early 20s when I had a job delivering the airport's lost luggage. I dropped off the last suitcase and filled the company car up at a gas station about halfway between Calgary and Banff. It was after midnight
and I wanted to get home because I was expected to work at nine the next morning.
A skinny lady in dirty clothes approached me. She looked like she hadn't showered in weeks. She had to be at least 50.
"Will you give me a ride?" she asked. "It's late and I'm broke. I just live down the road."
"Sure," I said, because I'm a nice guy.
She got into the passenger seat of the company car and lit a cigarette. I told her smoking wasn't allowed in the car and she started to cuss me out. Her breath stank like old moldy bread and most of her teeth were missing. The ones that were left were yellow like pee-stained porcelain.
Eventually, I was able to make the lady see reason. Somehow, I convinced her that being in my car was a privilege, not a right, but she still grumbled. She didn't want to put her seatbelt on either. I was having misgivings about this and thought my boss would get angry about it, but it was too late to back out now.
She had me get onto the Trans Canada Highway. "It's just up the road a bit," she said.
"Sure. Let me know when to turn off."
Ten minutes later, she still hadn't let me know.
"How far?" I asked.
"Up the road a bit."
"How far up the road?"
"Just a bit."
"How long will it take?"
"Not long."
So on I drove. The woman was silent, staring out the window. Another 10 minutes passed. Then 20. I kept my eye on the gas gauge. The needle was starting to waver off of F.
"Okay, how much longer now?"
She didn't answer.
I looked at her and saw that she was sleeping.
"HEY!" I yelled and she startled awake.
"I was sleeping," she said.
"Well you shouldn't be," I said. "We might have passed your exit."
"You didn't."
"How do you know?"
"Because you didn't."
I pulled over to the side of the road and put the hazard lights on. "I want you to tell me where I'm taking you," I said.
"It's up the road."
"How far up the road?"
"Not far."
"What is the address?"
"I don't know."
"You don't know where we're going?"
"I know how to get there. I just don't have the address."
I looked at her coolly. I had a sense I was being taken advantage of.
"Do you see the clock?" I asked.
"Yes."
"What time is it?"
"12:41."
"Will I be at your place by the time that clock says one?"
She didn't answer. She started to fidget.
"Look," I said. "I think I've taken you about as far as I can take you. I can't afford to drive any farther and I have responsibilities I have to attend to. Just tell me the name of the town you're going and I'll see if I can make that happen."
"Vancouver."
I looked at her for a long moment and said: "I'm not driving you to Vancouver."
You know? I wasn't expecting apologies by this moment. I wasn't expecting her to thank me for taking her this far and maybe I could drop her off at the next gas station. No, she sat there and swore at me and told me she was going to miss her daughter's wedding and that her friend Carlo was going to give her money once she got to Vancouver and she'd give me ten bucks for gas and then she swore at me some more.
I felt bad. I really did. I know some people, better Christians than I am, who would have taken her to Vancouver. But I couldn't afford the 12-hour drive to the west coast and I was pretty sure that Carlo didn't exist and that if he did, he wasn't the kind of person who's pony up his hard earned dough to anonymous chauffeurs.
Me? I just drove back to Calgary, tumbled into bed, and wondered if I had done a good deed.
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