The Real Story of THAT Trip: Part 4

Scorpions—Humanity Hour 1

MoTW—Smokin' Aces

So who was this "Night Rider" character? Some sort of cartoon character
come to life or just another figment of my sometimes over-nonproductive
imagination?

Granted, he did explain who he was and what he was up to, but I was
focused on the road cause I had many miles to go and the ADD kicked in
which happens when people yak and yak and yak about stuff I could really
give two shits about.

Good thing Ducky was around to explain stuff to the whoever was
listening in his Cliff Notes way.

"So you're the guy with the talking car that runs over chicks on the
beach?"

"NO! I'm the Night Rider! I travel during the night in my ride, riding
during the night doing all sorts of stuff."

"Okay, that made sense."

A shrieky woman's voice joined in. "He's the Night Rider!"

"I'm the Night Rider!"

"He's the Night Rider!"

"I'm the Night Rider!"

"And I'm Sheriff Wurrell T. Wurtzell!"

The CB went dead for a moment, and then I could hear someone weeping.

Moments later a car sped past me, but not before I managed to see that
the male driver and female passenger were crying. Next thing I knew, the
car and it's occupants were swallowed by a rather large pothole.

"So long Night Rider," I whispered sadly as I cruised past that rather
large pothole which I could swear was one of those reasons why I pay
those taxes. You know, to take care of potholes so people don't get
swallowed up by them, effectively ruining a character which could have
had a major impact on my trip somewhere down the line.

"Good thing we wasted time and words on him," said Ducky mirroring my
own thoughts even though it kind of makes no sense since he wasn't there
to see the pothole. But say it he did.

Figuring I had lost some valuable seconds here and there, I started to
press down on the accelerator but happened to look in the rearview
mirror and saw a car approaching at a high rate of speed.

I slowed down because I wanted to force them to go around me and
hopefully get in some sort of awe-inspiring accident of the airborne
variety.

"Hey ho! Ducky Rubber here and we've got ourselves a problem!"

"Oh yeah? What now?" I asked as I kept my eyes on the rearview mirror
and the approaching car, not on the road like all good drivers do.

"I'm in a neighborhood somewhere and there's a group of guys sitting in
a garage singing what should be 'Viva Las Vegas', but isn't."

"So?"

"They're singing 'Viva Viagra'.

"KILL THEM! FUCKING KILL THEM ALL!"

"Okie dokie boss! Just let me line them up……"

The car that was approaching suddenly did a u-turn and headed back the
other way. Sad that I wasn't going to see a possible extravagance of a
hootenanny of an accident I sighed and turned my attention back to the
road.

And noticed that I wasn't moving.

I pressed down on the accelerator and nothing happened.

Figuring it was the starter I turned the key to the "OFF" position and
then quickly back to the "ON" position and nothing happened.

I put the emergency brake on and tried that thing with the key again,
but still nothing happened.

I turned on the wipers, released the emergency brake, put the hazards
on, opened the passenger window, slid the temperature gauge to the
"HEAT!" position and tried doing that thing with the key again.

Nothing happened.

I popped open the hood, actually got out of the car and then quickly got
back in, tried the key again and still nothing.

I got out again and this time walked to the front of the car. I opened
the hood and stared at the pretty silver, gold and bronze stuff in the
engine compartment and then shut the hood.

Back in the car and still nothing when I turned the key.

I then opened the glovebox and got the owner's manual and started
reading it. When I got to page 373b, I found what I was looking for.

I turned the key to the "ON" position and checked out the gas gauge.

Sure enough, the needle was on "E".

COMING NEXT: Was I out of gas?

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