I awoke early after my night with Misty and Benny.  I took one look outside my window at the sunlight, but couldn’t get myself motivated to get back on the road.  Maybe I wanted a replay of the night before, or maybe I was just worn out from it.  Either way, I rolled over and went back to sleep.  It was almost noon, when I finally managed to close the door of the motel room behind me.  

With it, I also closed the door on Misty and Benny.  I had no idea whether I would be welcome in their world for a second night or not.  What I did know was that I could easily get lost in that world.  That being the case, I had to get away.  Getting away for me was unlocking the chain that held the Tomos to the sign post in the parking lot.

Since the trailer had been inside my room, I rolled it to the bike and hooked it up.  With everything in place I left without even saying goodbye to my two lovers from the night before.  Since I had no idea how I would look them in the eye and find my voice, I would be far too embarrassed, it seemed to be the ideal plan .

I rode the Sprint to a Mcdonald’s restaurant.  I bought the lowest fat meal I could think of, then sat on one of their picnic table to consume it.  After I finished the meal I noticed that like most times I stopped the Captain America Moped, it got a lot of attention.  Teenagers and even smaller kids loved the bike.  The trailer told them all that I was on a road trip, so I was an instant hit.

“So where you headed?” the older man asked.  He was tall and straight with gray hair and a neatly trimmed beard.  He reminded me of a retired soldier of some variety.

“California, no particular place there.  I’m going to be going,” I explained not expecting him to understand.  I was very surprised when he answered.

“You will most likely find yourself before you get there.  It’s a small bike, if don’t eat too many meals in places like this, you should be really thin by the time you reach California.”  He smiled as he spoke.

“Well, I’m going to do the best I can.  I have been dawdling this morning, so I really have to get on the road,” I informed him.

“You be careful out there, and good luck,” he said.

Other than his age, there was nothing about him to remind me of my father, yet he did.  To bad I couldn’t stay and explore those feelings.  I had miles to go before I next slept.  

The ride from Alabama to Gulfport Mississippi was beautiful.  The weather was warm with a small souther breeze created by the bike moving my ass through the afternoon heat.  Whenever I stopped, I was quickly soaked with sweat, but I didn’t mind at all.  It was a magical ride for me.  Even the occasional bug that slapped me in the face was forgivable.

I arrived at the commercial campground outside Gulfport after I stopped for dinner.  I had been in a great mood until I found that there were no undeveloped spaces in the campground.  I knew that was always a risk with camping.  The campground did have a few spaces with only electrical hookups, so I took one of those for the night.  Rather than the $30 to $50 motel rental fee, the space rental was only $12.  It would help me keep to my budget for sure.

I plugged in the power strip first thing and began charging my smart phone. and the extra batteries.  The second battery charger had been a sacrifice in space and money, but it had proved to be a good investment.  The battery in the phone could be switched out, when it got low.  Since I used that phone for so many things, the extra power was a really good idea.

I was exhausted, even so I managed to go take a look at the Gulf of Mexico.  I do love all large bodies of water.  They draw me to them, like steel to a magnet.  I left the beach just in time to get back to the campground before dead dark.  I rolled out my bedroll then fell on it.  I spent some time removing rocks from under the tarp.  I swore then that I would do something about that before next I rolled the thing out.

I slept like the dead, but only after I got all the small pebbles from under the bedroll.  The sun was barely clear of the small trees surrounding the campground when I sat myself up on the bedroll.  It is the same with every man or woman I know, first thing in the morning we have pee. I took time to find my tooth brush and small tube of paste before I went to the bathhouse.  

When I returned I used a bottle of water from the nigh before to make my coffee.  I had no idea what was in the local water supply in the towns I traveled through, so I alway drank bottled water.  I managed to get the tiny tea kettle going enough to boil the coffee grounds for a couple of minutes.  Once they were done, I strained them through the bit of no longer white tee shirt.  The coffee it made was still delicious.  I wished that I had picked up a bagel the night before.  It would have been stale but still it would have been better than the empty feeling in my stomach.  I was mildly uncomfortable while I packed up my sleeping items before I rode off to breakfast.

I was happy to note, while sitting in the restaurant, that I seemed to have recovered completely from my exhaustion of the day before.  I was more than ready to hit the road.  Of course I was traveling much too slowly for the coastal highway.  The couple of miles I had gone along it on my way to breakfast had convinced me of that.  More than once I had cars pass me while trying to stay in the same lane.  It was way too dangerous for a moped.  Not only that there was a minimum posted speed limit, which I could not routinely meet.  There were some bridges with humps that slowed me well below that speed.

I rode the whole day on back roads but in beautiful weather and along dinner plate flat roads,  I made it through Mississippi and into Louisiana before I thought of stopping.  I made well over a hundred miles that day.  I got all the way to a small town outside Baton Rouge.  

I found a campground with a very large convenience store across the street.  I went shopping more to kill a little time after dinner than anything else.  I found a plastic brush thing that was close to a foot high with plastic bristles six to eight inches wide at the bottom.  It was supposed to be a clothes brush.  I could remember one like it made of corn straw my mom called a whisk broom.  It should work well clearing trash from under my bedroll.

I took a look at the small counter with hot dogs and other food items for sale.  It was all take out, but there was a young woman there serving up sandwiches and taking the money for them.  I decided that I would be having my breakfast at the convenience store the next morning.  They might serve the horrid standard restaurant coffee there, but it would be hot and for sure much easier to manage first thing in the morning. 

That night there was a party a few spaces down. At first I was concerned since it reminded me of my first night on the road.  It was loud but it was also family members, so it didn’t get nasty like the one on my first night camping.  They also shut it down by 11PM.  They had even invited me to the party, but since almost all of them were ten or more years younger, I refused.  Still it was a gesture that made complaints even harder to make.  The old couple who obviously were the matriarch and patriarch of the family kept it tightly under control.  I was grateful to them for that.  

My back was stiff again the next morning, but fifteen minutes under the hot shower seemed to fix it.  Well that and an Aleve tablet I swallowed before the shower.  If it really got bad, I had a small bottle of Vicodin tablets.  I had not had to use any of them so far, and for that I was grateful.  They had a tendency to make me spacey.

After the hot shower and clean clothes, I was ready for the road.  I stopped at the convenience store for a giant cinnamon roll and coffee.  It was very good even if it did have that packaged taste.  The girl behind the counter obviously just reheated commercially prepared food for the customers.  I didn’t mind so much, since the trip was about the trip, not the food.  I didn’t work for the food network or anything, so the food was just fuel to me.  Just as with the bike, I had no brand loyalty.  Whatever worked was fine with me, as long as it didn’t make me or the bike sick.

As I whipped along the road headed toward the Mississippi river I realized that I had been on the road almost a full week.  It would be a week the next day.  Sometime on that momentous day I should be deep in the heart of Texas as they say.

I pushed hard that day so that I could make it across the Louisiana and into Texas before I stopped.  I wanted to stay in a motel, so I pushed on until I reached Beaumont.

I paid $50 for a not quite as old a motel as I would have liked.  If I hadn’t been exhausted, and in a little pain, I probably wouldn’t have.  Nonetheless I did check into a motel near a major highway.  I figured that I wouldn’t have the criminal element to worry about in a newer busier motel.

After I checked in I rolled the trailer into the room, then rode the bike out to a very close breakfast house restaurant.  The menu had a dozen different packaged breakfast meals and another dozen sandwich combination meals.  There was also a steak and eggs special which did not appeal to me at all.

I finally went with a corn beef hash and scrambled egg combination plate.  It looked better on the menu than in real life, but then don’t they always.  The taste was bland but adequate.  Best of all it seemed to be filling.  

Since I had messages from both my children, I couldn’t wait to get back to the motel to call them.  My nightly email to them were being reposted on their social media accounts, so I had to be careful what I wrote.  The phone calls were not recorded, so I could say whatever I wanted.  

I paid ten bucks for the only adequate dinner, but that was okay. I had been going on the cheap side for the previous two days.  After I paid my bill, I cranked the Tomos up and off I went for the short ride back to the motel.  I saw the six men standing in the parking lot.  Even as I pulled in I could see that they were in the middle of a confrontation.  The hair on the back of my neck stood up.  

I immediately tried to get the Tomos as far from them as possible.  I got off the bike used the chain and lock from the handlebars to lock it to a light post in the parking lot.  I managed to finish that chore before the gunfire broke out.  I could clearly see that all the men were either on the ground or engaged in trying to put the other men down.  It was what my cop friends would call a ‘cluster fuck’.  I was never going to be able to describe what was going on.  

There were three men still standing, who turned to run away.  Not all of them seemed to be on the same side and none of them had a stomach for more fighting it seemed.  One of them ran toward me gun in hand.  His gun was an automatic pistol with which he had sprayed the parking lot.  I was terrified.  

He pointed the pistol at me and said, “Take me to your room right now.”

I had a feeling that he had emptied his pistol, and that was why he ran.  So I took the chance and said, “No.’

“Lady if you don’t I am going to kill you,” he said.

“As opposed to hiding in my room, then killing me on your way out.  I think I’ll take my chances right here in front of God and everyone looking out their windows.”  

As I expected he switched his gaze to the motel to see who was looking out of the windows.  When he did I pulled the ever present pistol from the belt holster inside my jeans over my ass.  Then I went into the cop’s ten yard drill.  It was what the firearms instruction called it, where I took my concealed carry permit course.

In the ten yard drill, you pull your pistol, crouch to about half your normal height and empty your gun at whatever is standing in front of you.  You don’t say shit to them, you just empty the fucking gun and hope you hit something vital.

So that’s what I did.  I pulled the piece and I fired all five shots at his body mass.  He went down and his pistol never went off.  He might have pulled the trigger on an empty chamber, or he might have just been in shock.  I hoped that he realized, he had picked the wrong little old lady to try to kidnap.

About cindypress

sorry it is a mystery.
This entry was posted in Uncategorized. Bookmark the permalink.

12 Responses to trippin6

  1. Bob says:

    Another well written piece. I’m missing Maxine a little less with every new posting. Thank you.

  2. Shooter says:

    Cindy, You are doing an amazing job with this story as is your usual style. Glad you are feeling well enough to keep on writing. Keep up the good work. With all my best wishes, your friend shooter

    • cindypress says:

      It is a little less involved which makes it more doable. Also writing in the journal style kind of suits my particular lack of style I think. I will probably be doing more of this from now on since my memory is swiss cheese.

  3. jack says:

    Beautifully Done Thanks .

  4. cindypress says:

    Thank you I can only try//

  5. bigguy323 says:

    We take what we can get. I like the new heroine.

  6. hartzog86 says:

    Now she is going to need a new gun cause the po-po is gonna take that one. Then she is going to have to deal with the idiots that want to know why she didn’t just shoot him in the leg.
    Tactically she screwed the pouch by using all 5 shots when there might be others coming her way, but I can sympathize, I will never be asked why I shot someone instead they will be asking why I shot them 16 times (because thats all the bullets my gun held)

    Thanks for the new chapter.


    • cindypress says:

      You are so right on all counts.. If Zimmerman had been a woman there wouldn’t be a question, we are bit supposed to Know any better thank god. Dixie’s main problem is getting out of town before that motel bill breaks the bank.

  7. Joel says:

    I like the story a great deal. I only wish that you would get help proofreading. It’s agonizing to have to stop fairly often to try to figure out what word the letters in front of me are trying to convey. Sometimes it’s easy, and I just shake my head and smile. Other times it’s just abobbut impossible, and if the story weren’t so good I’d just toss it aside and stop.

    • cindypress says:

      Sorry Joel but it is what it is. Some folks can work through it some can’t I don’t blame anyone for giving up on it. If you would like to do the corrections sent them to me and I’ll be more than happy to re post the story that has always been a standing offer to anyone.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )


Connecting to %s