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March 15, 2005
Coming Home from School Pt 3
"What? You've got to be kidding me. This is a Jaguar."
Sure, it was a Jaguar, but an adolescent Jaguar. A jaguar in that awkward stage of its life where it's not new, and its not old. That stage where its quirks are taken as rebellion and when it stops working it's because it doesn't care about its owner not because it's old, crotchety and stuck in its ways. That stage where its blemishes look unsightly as they are spoiling an otherwise attractive body, they're not expected liver spots.
"That's all we've got now. Here. We got more."
"Well, we'll drive to a garage and find out how much it'll be to fix it and you give me that much. That way my insurance won't know about it and you won't go to jail."
"Thank you, sir."
Peter attempted to get information from the two, the licenseless driver and the insuranceless owner of the old SUV. The owner had already given him some past speeding tickets with her name and license number, so he verified that thye were correct. The driver, who could barely stand on his own, didn't have a license, but when asked for proof of identity went back to the car and got a piece of paper and a pen. He came back to us and tried to write his name on the paper. From what I could tell his name was "gEr~e~."
"What is this? This is ID? No. I need something more. Come on."
He came back again with a pile of stuff. His work ID -- he loaded planes for an airline at O'Hare Airport and needed the picture ID to get into work, paycheck stubs, and a host of other miscellany. "This should be enough. Now follow me."
We all got into the car, Peter and my dad in the front seat, me crammed in the back again still suffering from allergies. "Where are we going? I really need to get some allergy medication."
"Oh. No problem. It's just a mile or so. Right around the corner. My friend owns a garage. I'm taking it there. We'll make some extra money off these fucking junkies."
"Ok."
We drove a short way to a garage ensuring that the two followed us. When we stopped Peter hopped out of the car and went back to the other one. "Wait here. I'll get someone to come out and take a look at the car. Then you pay me that much and we're through. OK?" Then he hustled into the garage and my dad stood guard over them and their car.
I hustled across the street to a gas station and found some allergy medication. Finally. Then went back to the car. I squeezed into the back of the air conditioned car and waited with my face pressed up against the window as that was all the room the car provided.
A couple minutes later Peter came out of the garage and the four talked over a payment plan.
"What do you mean you don't have the money? Then we're going back to the police."
"No. No sir. I gots the money. We gots the money, but it's in the bank."
"Ok. There's a bank right around the corner. You go and leave her."
"No, it's like this. I don't got enough by myself, but together we does."
"So, go one at a time. I'll wait."
The guy drove off and left his girlfriend. My dad, his friend and the woman talked tensely on the sidewalk while I waited in the car. After a couple minutes my dad came up to the window, "Is this woman fucked up or what?"
I looked over at her and noticed that my allergy medication was kicking in. I was drowsy, my eyes were heavy. "Yeah, she's all jittery. -- I'm getting tired. I'm going to take a little nap."
I closed my eyes to take a nap, but before I could fall asleep the guy came back. "They won't let me get the money. I have to go to my bank to get it."
"Where's your bank."
"It's the airport credit union."
"Where is it?"
"There's just one by the airport."
"No way."
Somehow they convinced Peter that letting them go together to the bank was the only way he would get his money. He made them hand over even more personal information - her driver's license, some utility bills they had in the car - and he let them go. "You say it's 20 minutes to get there; if you're not back in an hour I'm going to the police with all this."
"We'll be back in less than an hour."
"You shouldn't have let them go."
"They gave me everything. They'll get in even more trouble if they go. Hit and run. Nobody would ever leave. -- Unless you're totally stupid."
"Or high. Did you see them? They were totally fucked up. Both of them."
We waited in the car. I don't know exactly how long, the allergy medication knocked me out. I woke up with my face pressed up against the window. I was biting my tongue and had a huge pool of drool on my shoulder. "It's been over an hour and a half!"
"I told you they were just going to leave."
"Fifteen more minutes. Then I'm going to the police."
"I doubt they'll come back."
"Just in case. I'll wait. Then I'm going to the police."
Posted by calculatoronfire at March 15, 2005 10:21 AM
Comments
Marcy. I pissed in your gas tank before you bought the car.
Posted by: brian at April 26, 2005 06:37 PM