The Motorist

The freeway was stalled. The night was black and it was raining like a son of a bitch. Brian sat in his rental car, nursing the fifth energy drink he’d opened since setting out on the road. There were two cases of them in the back seat. He’d only meant to give his body a little push, but goddamn if they weren’t the tastiest things in this world. Still, neither the delicious beverage nor its herbal induced euphoria could do anything for Brian’s current situation.

The windshield wipers were useless; unable to keep up with the amount of rain that was falling. Traffic had been stopped for what must have been well over an hour and no one, officer or otherwise, had come by to inform Brian of the situation’s status. Normally, he might have gotten out of the car to have a better look or even walked to the head of the traffic jam to ask any authorities what was going on, but he’d left the house without a jacket and there was no way he was going to exit the car in this weather. Checking the radio simply hadn’t occurred to him.

It seemed the other motorists had the same idea. Ahead of him was a truck with the silhouette of a head visible above both of its bucket seats. To Brian’s right was a small-scale diesel delivery truck with a textbook example of the bearded, flannelled, hunting capped trucker sitting behind the wheel. To his left was an SUV that was filled to capacity with a mother, father, four children and a baby strapped into a car seat. The dome light was on and the parents seemed to be franticly searching for something; maybe a toy or something for the baby. Behind him was a wide black sedan. Brian couldn’t see anything through its windshield. It was simply a blank, black rectangle and eerily mysterious. He was already bored with looking at the other cars after that.

He began to speculate what may be causing such an awful traffic jam.
Maybe there was an extra messy wreck and the coroner got held up on the way over. Had to have gotten held up somehow. I mean, it’s been over an hour, right? You’d think they would have scraped up the bodies by now. Or did the ground just open up or something? Was there an earthquake that caused the ground to split, creating a fissure across the entire freeway? Wait a minute. This is an elevated freeway. An earthquake still could have caused a chunk of the freeway to fall, turning it into a giant asphalt diving block, but I don’t remember feeling anything. If there were an earthquake strong enough to do something like that, I’d feel something, right? Maybe I should just go to sleep or something.

Brian spun to his right, reached over into the back seat, and grabbed another energy drink to replace the one he’d just finished during those thoughts. Oh, who am I kidding? I’ve got enough of these in me to drop a fuckin’ rhino. I’m not gonna sleep till Thursday. What day is it again? He popped the top and glanced to his left. The cute suburban family in the SUV didn’t seem to be doing too well. The children weren’t moving, Daddy had both hands wrapped tightly around the steering wheel with his head down, and Mommy and the baby were both crying. Hmmm, looks like somebody’s upset about something.

Suddenly there was a knock on the passenger side window. Brian nearly flew out of his skin, spilling his drink down the front of his shirt. So, Mr Trucker is feeling chatty. Rolling down the window, Brian asked, “Can I help you?”

“Hey there, mister. I noticed you got a few cold ones in the back seat there. Would you mind sharing? I can pay you.”

“Well, they are cold, but they’re not beer if that’s what you were thinking.”

“Oh, I don’t much care what it is. I’m just thirsty, you know?”

“I’ll tell you what”, Brian replied. You can have one for free.” He reached over the seat for an energy drink and passed it through the open window. “But only if you get out of the rain before you get sick and my car floods.”

“Thanks, mister. Much obliged.”

Brian watched the man rush back to his truck and climb back into its cab. Less than forty seconds later, Mr. Trucker poured the remainder of the can’s contents onto the street and tossed the empty can onto his floorboards. It’s an acquired taste, you asshole. Give it a chance; it’s better than coffee.

Then there were voices outside to Bob’s left. What’s happening with our little suburban family now? The mother was standing outside with her back against the closed passenger-side door of the SUV, her arms folded, and her head down. Daddy was standing at her side wildly gesticulating and shouting at her. “Come on, get back in the car! You’re scaring the kids! Do you like seeing them cry? Is that why you’re behaving like this? Come on, you’re getting soaked! You’re gonna get sick!” The woman just stood there with her head down, not making a peep. Brian found himself watching their argument as one might watch a sporting event. Rather than being taken aback, He simply sat there, quietly rooting for Mommy to yell back at Daddy.

“Have you lost your mind? People are looking at us! Just look at yourself! Is this the kind of example you want to set for our children?” At that moment, the couple from the pickup had arrived to investigate. It seemed that one of them, a young woman, was trying to keep her companion from getting involved.

Daddy noticed them coming and yelled, “You stay out of this. This is none of your concern.” The young man from the pickup ignored him and addressed Mommy.

“Excuse me, Miss. Would you like to come sit with us?”

Daddy got an angry look on his face like someone just shot his dog. “She will do no such thing! She’s going to get back in our car and you are going to get back in yours!”

“I apologize, sir, but I was talking to her; not you.”

“Who do you think you are? This is my family and I will take care of them.”

In the meantime, Mr. Trucker had appeared with a tire iron in his hand and he showed it to Daddy. “Now mister, it seems to me that this young man here is just trying to help and it looks…..”

“You can mind your own business too! She’s not going anywhere with anyone. She’s getting back in the car.” Daddy turned to face Mommy. “And she’s going to do so now!”

The young woman from the pickup held onto her companion’s arm and said, “Come on, Stevie. Let’s just go back.”

Stevie (So that was his name) ignored her. Mr. Trucker took another step toward Daddy and raised his tire iron just enough to remind everybody that it was still there, saying, “Mister, the lady looks to me like she’s plenty old enough to decide for her own self. Now, I don’t want any trouble, but if you want to keep your ass on straight, maybe you should let her do it.”

Daddy kept his look of superiority and opened his mouth to say something, but no words came out. He just stood there with his mouth open for a moment, turned around, walked back to the driver’s side of the SUV, and sat down behind the wheel, slamming the door hard enough to make Mommy jump just a little.

Stevie extended a hand to Mr. Trucker, saying, “Thank you. I was a bit worried, there. My name’s Steve, by the way.” Mr. Trucker took his hand and shook it.

“Mother named me Theodore, but you can call me Ted. I’m just glad to be able to help.” He jerked a thumb toward Brian’s car. “When I saw that this little pansy wasn’t gonna do anything, I had to do something. Who’s your ladyfriend?”

“Oh, this is Nan.”

The young woman nodded her head and simply said, “Hi.”

Ted took off his waterlogged hat and nodded back, saying, “Pleased to meet you.”

They all turned to face Mommy, not knowing exactly how to resume the exchange. Finally, Nan stepped forward and laid a hand on Mommy’s shoulder. “Miss? My name’s Nan. What’s yours?”

The woman wiped a hand across her nose and said, “Carol. It’s Carol.

Nan gave her shoulder a tender squeeze. “Well, Carol, It’s raining awfully hard out here. Would you like to come sit with us? It might be kind of cramped, but you’d be welcome.”

The woman began wiping her hand across her face again. Ted handed her a modestly grimy bandana that he’d plucked from his back pocket. “Thank you”, she said before noisily blowing her nose into it.

Brian barely heard a word of this, mind you. He’d heard the yelling, but the heavy rain and his tightly closed car windows rendered everything else a garbled blur or silent. Instead, he made up his own dialogue to fill in their gestures and moving lips. Though he didn’t know it, he wasn’t too far off the mark.

“You can keep the hanky, miss.” Ted pointed his thumb over his shoulder. “That’s my truck over there and that’s where I’ll be. Probably till next week by the look of things. If you guys need something, just knock, okay?”

After nods and handshakes, Ted ran back to his truck. Nan, Carol, and Stevie ran to the pickup where Stevie opted for the foldout seat behind the driver’s so the women could have the more comfortable seats.

That was a little weird, Brian thought to himself. It seemed to happen so fast. What was that all about? His fingers drummed on the steering wheel and his feet beat against the floor, but he couldn’t figure out what song he was pantomiming. He was racing on sugar, caffeine, and an unknown blend of alleged energy-enhancing herbs. It seemed that just about every thought that entered the fore of his consciousness was suddenly replaced by a new thought before the previous one could be fully processed. Still, they were all shaded by the same theme, that theme being, What the fuck is the holdup?

(More to come)