Sophmore year of college with the boys

When you tell someone you’ll drive their car across the country, you generally assume that the car will be in good enough condition to make the trip.  You know, when the owner says, “I’ve taken care of the car and it will be fine”, a good assumption is that the owner has indeed taken care of the car and it will be fine.

We left Pensacola around 2 pm, in the heat of the afternoon and found that the car didn’t have AC.  Not a big deal, but the 90 degree heat threatened to melt our faces off.  Our drive started slow, as we talked about dating outings and birthdays and whether or not we would be returning to Pensacola Correctional Center for the next year.  We moved from Florida to Alabama to Mississippi before we ventured into our first mishap.  The car decided to overheat and we found ourselves parked in a rest area for the better part of an hour.  The afternoon was flying by, and crankiness was underway.

Louisiana passed us by and entering Texas brought on more trials than any humans should ever have to bear.  I had never been in Houston, Texas before, but on the east side of  the city, Kim told us that she needed to stop at a pay phone (remember, cell phones were not as plentiful in those days) at the next gas station.  Allison, as the driver, pulled into the first Exxon she could find.  The station was actually closed down for whatever reason, and consequently was very dark.  We pulled in, Kim walked to the pay phone, and we waited.

After sitting for a few minutes listening to the sounds of Houston and to Kim quip loudly about her new friends driving with her and that she was very safe with such good friends, two cars come screeching into the parking lot about 30 feet in front of us.  Kim keeps talking.  Two guys walk out of one car.  Three guys walk out of another.  They start screaming and yelling racial slurs at one another.  Marty (that’s me) yells at Kim to make the  conversation end quickly.  Her parents roll on about how the family pet is doing.  Then one of the guys form the car of three heads to the trunk of his car and pulls out what appears from 30 feet to be a firearm.  Kim needs to quit talking.  Marty yells louder to Kim, pleading for her to hurry.

Eventually Kim stops talking and Allison drives away.  About a quarter of a mile down the road, immediately prior to getting on the ramp toward  the highway, I see a cop directing traffic, roll down my window and tell him, “Excuse me sir, back at the Exxon there was some guys fighting and one of them had a firearm!”  The officer looked at me and calmly said…

“Sorry, I have traffic duty tonight.”