Sunday, April 21, 2013


Cars are whizzing by my house, lights flashing. Tires screech as one after another head down the hill. We've been warned by various "officials" not to leave our residences. Police tape is stretched across every residence driveway leading to an overall atmosphere of fear and foreboding. What will happen next? Boston in the grips of a police manhunt for a mad bomber? NO. Glen Wild on a chilly Spring Saturday afternoon. Let me back up a bit.

   I'm watching TV Friday night glued to a BING image of some poor guy's boat in his driveway swathed in white shrink wrap. The police have just riddled it with automatic gun fire, as a helicopter with thermal imaging equipment confirms there is a "body in the boat". The illusive little man in the boat has finally been located. And like my first girl friend, years ago, the entire country breaths a sigh of relief. Damn. I'm glad that's over. Now i can go to town and get a bite to eat.
   As I wait for my fish and chips in the busy bar, a friend slides up and says hello. It's Trainwreck. I wonder why the bar is so busy when Trainwreck reminds me that it's Road Rally weekend. This is a group of rich white guys with souped up "rice burners" who take over the back roads of our little burg in order to race, open throttle, against the clock, for two days. They did it last year. It's about like watching paint dry. But according to Trainwreck, who happens to be one of the 20 or so people on the Rock Hill business association, who rams this "event" down our throats every year, "It's great for business. Dutch's is packed. Butch's motel is full." As I wait for my dried up, cold fish and chips, I must admit he's right. Business is so good they could care less if a local gets a decent meal. Ra- ra- road rally.
   The next day, Saturday, I dig out a piece of paper some kid had dropped off earlier in the week to check the road closings in order to get to the bus station to pick up an old friend from California- Danny Boy Ake. It takes some doing, but i safely get to Monticello and back without too much trouble.  Welcoming me home is 20 feet of police tape stretched across my driveway. I drive under it and rip it down. No sooner is the tape in my garbage than there's a guy in a motorcycle helmet knocking at my door. "I see you took our tape down." he says with a frown. "Yeah, so what?" I answer. "Well..." he continues officiously "I hope you aren't planning on going anywhere. The rally is coming by here." This is the first I've heard of these idiots blasting by my house. "No one told me that." IFF! I wasn't planning on going anywhere until this douche told me I couldn't. Now I'm pissed AND want to go somewhere...anywhere.
   About a half hour goes by and there's another knock on the door. this time it's a bent over old duffer with a fireman's badge. He asks if I've gotten the paper with the road closing? I'm still wound up from reaming out helmet man. So I give this old fart a piece of my mind also. "Is this race coming by my house or not?" He looks at me blankly and shrugs. "I don't know. I'm from Monticello." That explains a lot. This group is not only inept, they are bone-headed stupid. "How about a big sign, in red letters, that screams DANGER! YOU WILL BE KILLED IF YOU PULL OUT YOUR DRIVEWAY  between such and such a time?" I suggest and the doofus hobbles back to the fire truck with a backwards wave. "Have a nice day sir." he snarls. By now word should be getting out concerning the crazy guy in the church.
    DBA and i spend the afternoon catching up, drinking beer, celebrating 4/20 and watching these assholes in their fancy cars scream by. Around 4:21 a truck drives by and beeps the horn. I'm assuming this is the all clear. So Danny and I climb in Shirley and back out onto Old Glen Wild Rd. Immediately I hear an air horn and see a man waving frantically in my rear view mirror. Whatthefuck? Turns out this thing is far from over and now we are sitting right in the middle of the race track. Helmet man is in a tizzy. "YOU ARE GOING TO KILL SOMEBODY!" he screeches like a little girl. I screech back and let him know just what I think of this fucking event. As I write this, dawn is just breaking. Today's a new day. I have to get DBA back to the bus, running the gauntlet of slack jawed, needle dick, shoe shufflers with "Road Rally" laminates. Maybe I'll pull the old Neon across the road and start changing tires. Maybe I sit in a folding chair with a 12 ga. across my knee. In the words of a great patriot "W" Bush- "If you give in, they've already won. Go shopping!" If I could only get past the police tape across my drive. Hey. It's good for business.    


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