Posted by Rey
He’d gotten out too late; it was dark. Directions were easy when based on major landmarks but there was no way possible to see the sign names on these poorly lit rural roads.
“The stone house with the three white garage doors.” They had said…but at this hour everything white was charcoal gray. And honestly, the amount of houses with three garages was obscene. People have way too many cars…
The road got bumpy—did they mention that it would become a dirt road? And such a narrow one at that…room for only his small Camry.
The road kept going, up the hills and down again; wending it’s way through a dark mountain. Off the side of the road, peeking through shaded fields of black and a thicket of trees he could see lights flickering: merely lonely homes waving a single bypasser.
Up ahead, a pulloff plus a sign so he slows down and silently cheers when he notices the stone house and counts three garage doors.
As he pulls into the driveway he uneasily examined the three rusty pickup trucks that he had not noticed before now. Images of boot-wearing good ol’ boys stamped through his now nervous Hispanic mind. Moreso when the motion-light caught the colors of their emblazoned confederate flag.
Other details became clearer: a waving American flag, a bust of a bald eagle, more confederate flags, and the color of the not-white garage doors. He peeled out; hoping that someone wouldn’t catch his dark-skinned Yankee body burning rubber in their private driveway.
Posted in: home
April 11, 2007
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April 11th, 2007 at 4:08 pm
I can’t believe you drove all the way to Darrell and Wendy’s and didn’t even say “Hi”.
April 11th, 2007 at 4:26 pm
YEEEEEE-HAAAAAWWWWWW!
BER-NER-NA-NA-NANA-NANA-NAAA-NAAA-NA-NA
(my best impersonation of the General Lee)