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Clueless

Category: Life

Published on Thursday, 13 May 2010 05:00

Written by Paul Roy

This is the city

There are 100,000 vehicles in the city, some are new, some are old. They are all driven by people, people of all walks of life. Sometimes these vehicles break down. When they do, they call me. My name is Thursday, I drive a tow truck.

I was working the day watch out of the toll road division. It was Monday. The sun was shining when I got the call. A BMW was blocking the entrance ramp before the tolls. We needed to move it immediately. I headed to the plaza. There was the BMW at the end of the ramp with traffic piling up behind it. I had to move fast. I backed my flatbed to the truck. I jumped out and lowered my bed and attached my mini J’s to the frame.

There was no one with the vehicle. I saw a very attractive woman at the toll booth watching me and waving. I knew it was her car. I was always fond of rescuing beautiful damsels in distress. I needed to put the BMW in neutral. The car was locked. The car was dead in traffic and it was locked.

I began to walk to where I saw the woman. She didn’t come to meet me. Horns were honking, people were giving me the one finger wave. I didn’t wave back. Retrieving the keys I made my way back to the vehicle, I received more waves. I unlocked the Beemer and loaded it onto my truck. I retrieved the woman. She pulled out her AAA card and wanted to go to Springfield. I could do it, I was ready to go. I asked her what was wrong with the car. She said it had just died — it wouldn’t go.

We began our journey, and she asked me if I had the keys. I did. She asked for them. I couldn’t resist those fawn brown eyes. I would have given her anything. She took them. She pressed the button to lock the doors and set the alarm. We drove a quarter of a mile. We hit a bump, and the alarm went off. She seemed surprised. She turned off the alarm, resetting it and turned it back on. We drove another quarter of a mile, hit another bump, and the alarm went off. Again, she seemed surprised. She reset the alarm.

We drove another quarter of a mile. Hit another bump. All of a sudden she wasn’t as attractive as she had been. After the fifth time, I asked her for the keys. She asked why. I looked at her. I asked her to look at my speedometer. She did so. I asked her how fast I was going. She responded 65 miles per hour. I asked her where we were. She responded on the Mass Pike. I asked her about how far her car was off the ground. She responded about three feet. I asked her if there were any people walking along the road. She said no. I asked her if there was anyone hiding in the bushes. She looked rather intently around us, and she seemed pretty sure there was no one.

I then told her that I had been driving a tow truck a long time, I had towed a lot of cars. I looked into those big brown eyes and I said:

“In all these years I have driven a tow truck, and all the cars I have put on my flatbed, I have not once, not ever, had anyone jump out of the bushes, jump on my truck while I was going 65 miles per hour, get in the car and steal it. Not only that if they did manage to get onto the truck and get into the car, the damn thing isn’t running anyway, so give me the keys and stop setting the alarm.”

The shade of red on her face made her eyes all the more brown.