Tuesday, May 15, 2012

The Money pt. 5

  It was an hour into my escape when I started to shake. I had to pull off and park the bike under a tree while my nerves let go of some anxiety. I am not saying I cried but I sure wish I had a teddy bear to snuggle with. It passed after a while but a wave of exhaustion hit me and I decided to get off the freeway for a nap. I figured an off ramp had to be just a few miles away. 40 miles, and a little sleep driving later,  I was sleeping in the parking lot of a giant truck stop at a picnic table. The pervasive light of the sign only kept me awake for a couple minutes and soon I found myself amid a terrible dream.
  I was running away from a man with pliers. He had the voice of Morgan Freeman but the build and complexion of my most recent torturer, Shawn the sadistic fat guy. His face was eclipsed by his giant razor sharp teeth and no matter where I went he was right behind me. I woke up heart racing, drenched in sweat and with an urgent need to pee.
  My legs had cramped up while I slept and I spent a few excruciating minutes trying to make them move. I was positive my bladder was seconds from bursting and had to stop several times to attempt to "mind over matter" my incessant urge to pee. This of course nearly caused me to wee away in my pants so I hobbled along as best I could and found myself leaning against the wall for support as I finally found relief.
  I washed my hands and sauntered over to the attached diner for some grub. At a table, near the window, is where I first noticed that the vehicle I saw earlier was parked right next to my bike. My heart shot up into my throat and I had to focus on not vomiting all over the table. My appetite was gone and I sat there waiting for my impending doom. My eyes never left that car, even when the cute waitress came over to take my order. Not even when I ordered a last supper style meal, with more then I could ever possibly eat in one sitting. Nor did I look away when she asked if people were joining me and I replied that I hoped not. While I ordered and conversed (poorly) with the waitress, that car sat there the entire time. I was lost in its shiny windowed gaze.
  It was as I sat there staring at the car that things began to change. As if there truly were guardian angels my luck continued to hold up very well. The full comedic impact of my bout of paranoia did not dawn on me when a mother and daughter came walking toward that car. Nor did it hit while I watched as the mother strapped her daughter in a car seat in that car and then belted herself in before pulling out to head back to the freeway. In fact, it did not hit until the server delivered 7 giant meals with 6 sides. I was briefly the most popular guy in the place as I handed the meals out to incoming diner guests.