25 (Part I)

25 (Part I)(Michael Halcomb) Joe Bologna’s served some of the area’s best pizza as well as being home to “out of this world” garlic bread. The thought of those almost sinful chewy soft bread sticks, still today, leaves my mouth watering. Before we got outta Richmond, I coasted into Jimbo’s drive-thru… the last stop for beer… picking up six Miller tall boys. The guy at the window, a long hair wearing a worn out sweat stained ‘used to be white’ EKU baseball hat, was checking out my ’67 Impala.

“Man, look me up if you ever wanna sell it.”
I exchanged money for beer…smiling at his comment.
“Thanks man, I’ll let you know.”

Sure didn’t take us long to put ‘em down as we made the twenty minute hop north to Lexington on this sultry September evening. There was an undeniable buzz brewing among the four of us, all anxious to get the party started. Judy was sitting close to me up front fiddling with the radio, looking for that perfect song, while in the back seat Iszzy & his girlfriend, Robbie, were tangled up in each other and, for the moment, oblivious to the world.

Lexington is congested with stubborn ‘One-way-streets-from-Hell’ & it damned sure seemed like we drove up & down every last one before eventually finding our way. Joe Bologna’s was one of a kind, unlike the countless cookie cutter franchises you’ll find today spread across America. It was nothing pretty to look at… kinda like the girl your buddies described as having “a good personality” …but plenty of allure & character was found here, hidden away in this laid back blue-collar town.

Isz swung the battered front door wide open to a packed house. Letting the girls lead the way, we breezed through like we owned the joint. Man, it seemed like everyone in the place stopped & stared as we paraded past ‘em. [I think that’s the way it happened…or at least that’s the way I wanna remember it]. Stale beer, sweet garlic & rowdy laughter filled the air along with Marshall Tucker’s easygoing ‘Can’t you see’.

The girls speedily moved towards a booth to their liking & squeezed in, their washed-out jeans sticking to the cracked cherry red vinyl seat as they slid across. Both were from Louisville, but had gone to different high schools & only recently met. Judy was the least outgoing of the two, but after a couple of beers… let me correct that, if she smelled a beer, she would laugh at just about anything… even Isz’s worn out jokes. Judy was real. A natural beauty with shoulder length, dark brown hair, large knowing eyes & a smile that was as genuine as the girl from which it came. It was towards the end of my freshman year that I first bumped into her. She showed up to one of those never-ending parties at “the trailer”, invited over by Danner [one of Isz’s roomies]. David Danner is best described as a combination of Joe Namath, your high school gym teacher & Jethro [of the Beverly Hillbillies], with the emphasis on Jethro. David had a heart as big as the bottles of Jack Daniel’s he emptied, drinking himself into oblivion on more than one occasion. Thinking back, I can see him standing there, tall, smiling & turning that 5th of Jack straight up in the air, guzzling the last few gulps. I think he had a class with Judy, sat next to her...but you know, I really can’t say for sure how they met. That memory remains a bit cloudy. It was more likely that he followed her around campus [that would be called stalking today] pestering her till she finally caved in & spoke to him.

Well anyway, on this night, Danner had apparently become bored with his date cuz I found Judy outside all alone. I was out behind the trailer on a bathroom break trying hard not to trip over the ever-growing mound of empty beer bottles & cans when she caught my eye. She was staring out at a cloudless moon lit sky, sitting cross-legged atop what remained of a picnic table [the legs were missing on one side; instead held up by a crooked stack of concrete blocks]. Zipping my pants, I drifted over & hopped up next to her. It didn't take this boy long to realize that this girl was different… just didn’t fit in with the party crowd. We musta spent the next 3-4 hours listening to the noise going on inside, watching the occasional train pass by & talking in between…about our families, high school...that kind of stuff. I saw her a few more times before the semester ended &, with a continued interest, I stayed in contact with this Kentucky girl over the summer of ’75. We easily picked up where we left off at school’s end & so far, really seem to have found a comfort zone with each other. Robbie had been seeing Iszzy for a few weeks now. I think she had been on the ride of her life up to this point & it wouldn’t end anytime soon.

We were off to ourselves in a dark secluded corner of this well-worn Italian eatery, with our only illumination coming from one of those round cheap-looking candles surrounded by pink plastic netting…never understood that netting. Worn, peeling duct tape strained to patch the bench seats on each side of our booth & the oversized black oak table blanketed by a red & white checkered tablecloth all added to the good time college-town atmosphere of Joe B’s on what would become a night to remember.

A waitress soon strolled to our table carrying menus & water for each of us. I don’t remember her name. Probably never did know it; but as I recall, this drop-dead gorgeous UK co-ed was wearing a bone-white peasant blouse…& her hair was incredible…a moving mass of auburn locks that fell across her freckled bare shoulders. It’s a memory that will never fade away.

“How y’all doin?”

Man, I love it when they say that. I don’t think I’ll ever tire of hearing those words. A lotta years have passed since I moved back across the Ohio, so consequently it’s been quite a while since I’ve heard that intoxicating cadence with any regularity. But even now to hear a girl from Kentucky say, “How y’all doin?” compares with some of the sweetest sounds I’ve ever heard.

At break neck speed, Isz grabbed up the menus & pushed them back into the hands of our hippie waitress. And in seemingly one breath, he shouted over the sleazy, indelible riffs of Joe Perry begging for ‘Sweet Emotion’…

“We’re doing great beautiful, but we’d be doin’ even better if you could hurry us out a frosty pitcher of Falls City & four of those killer breadsticks.”

Robbie dug a dollar’s worth of quarters from the bottom of her purse, grabbed Judy by the arm & the two of them bounced over to the jukebox. Robbie swiftly perused the song titles & excitedly pressed E-4 knowing that her date would howl at the first brutal chords of ‘Whole-Lotta-Love', an undeniable classic, once depicted by Isz to be “a titanic, sexual, psychedelic, heart-pounding, paint-peeling masterpiece.” This Zeppelin freak never shied away from attempting to prove [to anyone that would listen] exactly who he believed to be ‘The World’s Greatest Rock ‘n Roll Band’. Isgrigg’s perception of his heroes at times seemed to co-mingle with his own personal demons. Led Zeppelin wasn’t just music for him, it was a drug & he forever wanted to overdose.

Robbie continued to make selections, squealing, each time she found a favorite. Judy scanned the list, following her finger, squeaking as it moved up & down the jukebox glass looking for anything ‘Doobie Brothers’.

“Do you think they have it…you know, that ‘black water’ song? That’s one of Mackel’s favorites.”

[I melted each time she said my name…loved the way she pronounced it]. Truth be told, I did not like the song at all. It was Judy, who would light up each time she heard it on the radio, always asking me if she could turn it up. But if it made her happy, I was damned sure not gonna deny that babe anything she wanted when she wanted it. She had that effect on me. Even today, the memory of her warms my heart & I sometimes imagine that I can smell ‘her smell’…you know what I mean? I suppose we all have those kind of reflections, souvenirs of the past, that seem to visit us with thoughts & images of loves bygone. I’m as faithful as a man can be to his wife, but there always seems to be that ‘one’ that doesn’t go away like the others. It’s as if time had been suspended for those moments we were together so many years ago. Yet, at times, it’s like it was just yesterday…those sweet memories of youth’s intense passion & how they never seem to fade.

“So, yeah, go ahead Jude…turn it up.”

I was caught in a starry-eyed gaze, through the crowded hazy room, at the girls draped over the record machine still pushing buttons when a pitcher of Louisville’s finest found it’s way to our table. My attention quickly turned to Isz, watching him sloppily fill our oversized mugs. He was laughing that sinister laugh of his… a laugh that I quickly learned could be a precursor to a bizarre night…& on this night, Isz didn’t disappoint.

“Halc, it don’t f***in get any better than this!” And as we each took that first drink, we could see it in the others eyes that we were thinking the same thing. “Look at us, a couple of cool college dudes out on the town with two of the hottest damn chicks on campus.” We just smiled, savoring the moment.

Robbie & Judy-girl [always used to call her Judy-girl] jumped in beside us just as I was emptying what was left outta that first pitcher of suds into Iszzy’s thirsty mug. The much anticipated bread sticks followed the girls to our table & before she could scoot away, I asked our waitress to bring us an extra-large pepperoni pizza & another pitcher-a-beer.

“Gimme one of those bad-boys” Isz hollered, as he stretched to reach for one of the freshly baked butter soaked delights of the garlic gods. Robbie calmly grabbed his hand & brought it to her lips...just holding it there. And for a very brief moment, Isz seemed to sink into a trance from which it appeared he would be quite satisfied never to return. Robbie had his number, which has been the case so far in the early stages of their relationship. Whenever she dials…he’s always home. There was major electricity between these two outlaws…almost a ‘Bonny & Clyde’ thing goin’ on. This was outright sexual energy, a love of lust that became a storm of an affair that would breed thunder & lightning again and again before it helplessly crashed & burned.

The mostly drunken whoops & whistles brought a contented smile to my face as the lively Joe B’s crowd [a mix of Lexington locals & college students] reacted right away to the funky, no-frills drumbeat beginnings of ‘Honky Tonk Woman’…Jagger’s drawling vocals… “I met ah gin-soaked…baar-room queen in Mem-phus...duh duh duh.” Isz jumped to his feet & mimicked Mick with the best of em’… “She tri-ed to take me up-stay-ers…fer a ride…..duh duh duh." The Rolling Stones were a close second to Zeppelin [in Izzy’s hierarchy of Rock gods] & any chance he got to perform a Stone’s classic, he took it. Drawing attention to our cozy cloistered corner, he pulled Judy from the booth & led her into an improvised ‘Fred & Ginger’ dance step… both of them laughing out loud as the onlookers rooted them on. Robbie & I were carrying on right along with the others digging Isz do what he does best [play to the crowd] with Judy just trying to keep up.

From his first gulp of draft beer, I could almost see Isz holding himself back in anticipation of what was to come. “I knew, as I felt that ice cold brew hit the bottom of my belly, that it wouldn’t be long before the demons would be set free to rape & pillage. Drinking for me was an escape. It was a setting free. I knew with the first drink that I had breached the boundaries of self-control & at light speed was headed to ‘Party Town’ where you either fxxk or fight…& sometimes both.” This reckless full tilt living-on-the edge posture of Iszzy’s was intriguing; definitely something that I wanted to be a part of. It pulled me in, just 19 years old…only beginning to spread my wild wings.

Some skinny kitchen rat with a greasy bleached blond pony tail banged his way through the noisy swinging doors that led in & out of the nearby kitchen… the heat from the giant pizza ovens following him out. He drifted over carrying our steaming pie…[had that rock band roadie kinda look] & the leftovers of an old romance [I’m guessing] was crudely tattooed on his bony forearm… ’Becky Forever’. He slid the sizzling pepperoni pizza down on the table just moments before our waitress dropped off another freezing pitcher of draft [our third I think…or maybe fourth] sidestepping Judy & Isz as they fell into our booth laughing…their clothes clinging to sweaty bodies. Selfishly, Isz filled his mug & shot down the beer. As he slammed his empty glass on the table, he gave me that wild, bad-ass, wide-eyed look of his [he always wanted to be a bad-ass], just daring me to slow him down.

There was something golden about our little pizza party. It defied words. It was almost as if I was watching myself from a distance, like in a dream, & it was like a dream. We, all four of us, had everything we could possibly want that night. Pizza had never tasted as good before or since, great music… don’t remember ever laughing as much, & the beer was going down way too easy. But most of all, we had each other. Those were the best of times as I have come to realize, but the appreciation just isn’t there when you’re living it. I’ve got a great life now. I wouldn’t trade it with anybody, but there’s just something about college & chicks & good times that’s hard to forget.

“Well…there’s a red house over yonder. That’s where my baby stays.”
“I ain’t payin”…
“Lo-ord…there’s a red house over yonder…oh, that’s where my baby stays.”
“What??”
“I ain’t f***in payin!”
“I ain’t been home to see my baby…in ninety-nine & one half days.”

Robbie & Jude were giggling, as only nineteen year-old girls do, at a middle-aged chick…probably local…doing her best to dance to the Hendrix tune. She had that ‘put-on-with-a-putty knife’ kinda makeup; looking more like a clown than a queen. They gazed in disbelief at the ‘painted on jeans’ straining at the seams and screaming for relief as they tried to wrangle one of those worn & wilted rodeo butts that cowboys knew always looked better in the dark.

I asked Iszzy again, “What are you talkin about…whata ya mean, you’re not payin?”

Only the haunting, intimate blues bleeding through the shabby overhead speakers was able to slow Isz down tonight, if but for an instant. The psychedelic voodoo child continuing his magic…

“I gotta bad, bad feeling…my baby don’t live here no more.” Leaning over the table he grabbed my arm, pulling me closer. “Halc, we’re gonna walk outta here…we ain’t payin this f***in check.”

“Ya’ll like another pitcher?”
I looked at Isz…he at me…both of us with shit-eatin grins. I said...“Hell yeah, why not. Bring us one more.”
And with our waitress halfway to the kitchen, Iszgrigg hollered out… “An this time, give it to us inna dirty pitcher!!” [the line by the way, stolen from an old Bob Hope movie]. Laughing at himself, Isz drew great satisfaction in being a smart-ass. But when he didn’t hear the expected laughs, the brash smirk faded, transforming into an ugly sneer; his bad-ass sneer. [The one where his left eyebrow raises and angles down towards his nose]. Refusing defeat, he cried… ”and uh… bring us some turtle soup & make it snappy!”

Robbie & Judy giggled [they had great giggles], angels of mercy that they were, realizing Iszzy’s need for appreciation. On the other hand, I gave him a blank stare. He hated that look. But he wasn’t surprised by it. I’d sometimes give him the stare when others were breaking up, knowing that it would piss him off. But he’d never acknowledge it. No way he was gonna give up. Isz always took on the challenge & sooner or later he’d have me on the ground [sometimes literally] crying with laughter. I think he appreciated the fact that he had to work a little harder [with me] to get
the laughs… that I was actually paying attention.

Still sore from the earlier lack of support, Isz glared at Robbie… “You know, I really need a girlfriend who laughs when I make a joke…it helps out the whole act. Got it??” There he was again, playing the bad-ass. Knowing he wouldn’t hurt a fly, Robbie only smiled…lightly stroking his head and brushing his long wavy hair [Rock-Star hair he used to say] with the back of her hand.

Judy-girl, sitting quiet, scooted a little closer to me… our shoulders touching. She was watching me pull pepperoni offa the last stiff slice of cold pizza, mostly just playing with it.

“Didya want anymore?”

“No Mackel, I’m fine…everything is perfect.”

Turning my face to hers, our noses were just inches apart. Her coffee brown eyes took my breath away as I felt them kissing mine. Time was definitely standing still. Judy was right. Everything was perfect, but that was all about to change.

“Halc…hey Halc!…you & kissy-face wanna join us!!? Listen up, here’s the plan.”
“Plan??”…both girls blurting out.
“Yeah, we’re not paying our bill. Me & Halcomb got it all figured out.”
“What!?…you just told me about it a minute ago. You didn’t tell me about any plan.”
“OK sissy-ass, here’s what were gonna do.”
“Jesus just left Chicago…and he’s bound for New Orleans.”
“Halc, you go get your car… pull up, right out in front, next to the curb …& keep the motor running.”
“Well now, Jesus just left Chicago…and he’s bound for New Or-leans.”
Nervously squirming in her seat, Judy took a tight hold of my arm & said “Are you sure you all wanna do this??”
“Yeah Iszzy, couldn’t we get in trouble?” Robbie whispered.
Slowly pouring himself another one, Isz cracked a smile…looked towards the exit. “Get in trouble? …Yeah, maybe. That’s why we’re doin it.”

That little ol’ band from Texas rode on… maintaining the low-down sleazy blooze. “You don’t have to worry ‘cause takin’ care of business is his name.”

We’d been friends for about a year now & I never really knew Isz to be a thief, except for the times he would steal food outta my dorm room. [He still denies taking a shoebox full of homemade oatmeal cookies]. But I imagined this to be a one time thing… that it was purely the thrill factor at work. He was always looking for ways to push the limit & really never seemed to be overly concerned with what others thought about his behavior. What mattered most was to live life… to feel it, good or bad. This wouldn’t be the last time I would ‘follow the leader’. I suppose I shared some of the same qualities; had a bit of the ‘badboy’ slant to my own personality & Isz sure knew how to bring it outta me.

Standing up, I sorta rolled my eyes at Judy & at the same time raised my eyebrows & shoulders as if to say… 'I’m not sure about this’. But I guess the one too many beers I had tonight helped persuade me into thinking this was a good idea. “OK, I’m ready…let’s do it. I gotta hit the bathroom first & then I’ll go get the car.”

Isz looked across the table at the two girls. Robbie had bounced to the other side, next to Judy. Both of ‘em were on the edge of the bench seat clearly uneasy about what was unfolding, but listening intently to each word.

“I’ll wait a few minutes…maybe 10, then send ya’ll out one at a time. Judy, you can go first.”

I still remember standing alone in that tiny bathroom [a claustrophobia nightmare]…& looking up, checking out the cover of Rolling Stone. Framed, up above the only urinal was a classic photo of Glenn Frey & Don Henley [with an uncombed ‘fro’] along with the rest of the Eagles. Every time I hear the song ‘Take it to the Limit’, I relive this unforgettable night.
“So put me on a highway and show me a sign…take it to the limit one more time.”

Heightened paranoia & a squealing metal door chased me outta the men’s room. It really felt like a hundred sets of eyes followed each noisy step I took towards the entrance on that creaky hard-wood floor. I caught myself walking too fast, slowing it down… & shot a glance at our darkened corner, spying an uneasy wave from Judy. As I reached for the door handle to exit Joe B’s, our waitress backed her way out of the nearby kitchen…a full mug of beer in each hand. Noticing me, she paused for the briefest of seconds, giving me an ‘I know what you’re about to do but I’m not gunna tell’ look. The twinkle in her eyes let me know that I was ok. A comforting thought at the time; but looking back, I mighta misread the Linda Ronstadt [circa Stone Poneys] look-a-like.

“Is Mackel all right… do you think anyone noticed him leave?? Iszzy, I can't believe you talked us into doing this… my daddy would die.”

“Judy, Halc's ok…he's probably already got the get-away-car pulled up, just waitin on us.”

“Iszzy, I don't feel good about this. Wadda we do now? Judy's right. If we get into any trouble, it's your fault… & don't call it a get-away-car! Makes us sound like criminals!”

“Robbie!… y’all need to settle down. Nuthins’ gonna happen to us. It'll be fun, just enjoy it. We'll laugh about it all the way home.”

I yanked the parking ticket out from underneath my wiper blade & stashed it in the glove compartment along with the others. [Guess I need to start feeding the meters.] This could've been seen as a bad omen. That maybe our special night was about to take a turn, but I didn’t give it a second thought. I assumed the girls & Iszzy would be out soon. We'd drive away…nobody gets hurt, just some harmless fun, something that we could laugh about for the next few days. Little did I know, that I would recount this crazy tale again & again to dozens of listeners over the next twenty-five years.

“Hey man… what can you do about gettin me another beer?”

Bussing the table right behind Isz was a tall, thin kid, maybe 15 years old. His long stringy hair was falling down his face…covering his eyes and he was wearing a grungy, stretched-out black T-shirt. The sleeves were cut off and a picture of Neil Young covered the front. You know, the one from the 'Tonight's the Night' album [love that record]. He continued to clear the empty mugs & dirty plates; pushing crumbs onto the floor with a rag…never did look up.

“Yeah man, I'll take care of it.”

Robbie couldn’t believe what she was hearing. Stretching across the table, she got a handful of Iszzy’s shirt, dragging him towards her.

“Haven't you had enough? …Michael's waiting on us, we need to go!”

Alcohol had taken over. Robbie’s words just didn’t have the magic they had earlier in the evening. Isz felt no pressure to listen to anyone. He fell back into his seat, laughing his ass off, as a full foamy draft was dropped off in front of him.

“Can you get my buddy one, too?…he'll be right back.”
“Sure.” was all our waitress said.

Totally confused, Judy said “What are you doing? …Mackel's outside."
Isz was actually hoping this would take away any suspicions about why I left the building…that I was on my way back in. Ya got to give him a little credit; not a bad move, but he was only confusing & pissing off the girls.

“I’m gunna drink one for Halc & then we’re outta here.”

Pulling up in front of Joe B’s, I banged into one of those heavy metal newspaper stands, bringing my car to a sudden stop…the front wheel on the driver’s side now resting on the sidewalk. Possibly another telling sign that our getaway might not be going quite as smooth as we had hoped for. But again, I don’t remember being concerned; unmindful to how I was parked. Waiting for the others, I lit up a cigarette & went through the radio stations…u p & down the dial till I came across ‘Keep on Smiling’. Turned it up. Wet Willie ‘rocked’. This Alabama band [in my opinion] was one of the best Southern Rock groups goin in the mid-70’s, playing their own intense style of white southern soul. Judy & I caught their sweaty, kick-ass show on campus near the end of last semester. It was one of our first dates &, as was the case many times over the next couple of years, she paid my way. Judy-girl had taking a liking to running around with me & Isz… getting a little taste of the ‘other side of the tracks’. And in turn, her innocence was ultra stimulating. I ate it up. Appearing in front of the restaurant, standing alone underneath a low outstretched awning, Judy looked like a lost little girl, as she peered through the darkness up & down the narrow one-way street not realizing I was only 20 feet away, smiling to myself… admiring the angel before me. I could see the anguish in her crinkled-up forehead & squinting eyes.

I tapped the horn & yelled “Hey cutie, let’s roll.”

“Help me, I think I’m falling…in love again. When I get that crazy feeling, I know I’m in trouble again.” Slow dancing in front of the juke box, Isz & Robbie fit together like two connecting pieces of a jig-saw puzzle. Joni Mitchell’s ‘Help Me’ serenaded the lovers, as they lost themselves in each other’s arms. In her mind, the two of them were lying on the white sands of a deserted beach… making slow, passionate love before a radiant setting sun. But knowing Isgrigg, he was imagining
himself spread over Robbie’s naked body, both of ‘em sprawled atop his worn-out 1950’s formica kitchen table… the room illuminated only by a single light bulb dangling overhead.

Relieved to see my face, Judy hustled over to the car, leaping into the back seat right behind me. “Oh Mackel, I’ll be so glad to get back to Eastern… this makes me soooo nervous. Do you think they know what we’re up to?” I turned off the car & swung around to see Judy rolling her window down just as fast as it could go. “Can’t breathe, can’t breathe, I need air!” I was about to laugh, but instead only patted her knee & smiled, hoping to calm her.

If I close my eyes & let myself drift back, I can picture her so clearly sitting before me, almost in tears & wearing her favorite T-shirt. It was yellowish green & had a large shamrock on the front with Nelly Kelly’s spelled out in white letters overhead. Nelly Kelly’s was a small watering hole located near UK’s campus; just a few minutes away. I don’t think Judy had ever been there. Pretty sure the shirt was a gift from her older brother [who was a frequent visitor].

Pushing her way outta the smoky restaurant into the sticky starless night, Robbie located my car right away & became all smiles… & she had an unforgettable one [think Julia Roberts]. Her smile made me smile. Isz always used to say that Robbie made him feel like it was only for him, but that sweet, sweet smile was a gift she shared with everyone. She ran up to the parked car, first to my side, but seeing Judy directly behind me skipped around the back of my Chevy to the passenger side. Even though it was unlocked, the door wouldn’t open right away. It jammed [as it was prone to do] which caused her to let out with a helpless squeal. Watching Robbie struggle, I guess me & Judy shoulda helped, but we just laughed as she jerked on the handle again & again. To her relief, it finally flung open allowing her to lunge headfirst into the car and falling facedown into Judy’s lap. Muffled sounds were all we could hear…just barely making out some words that were buried among excitable giggles. Sounded like…
“Iszzy’s coming.”

“Well, I’ve got to ruuu-n to keep from hi-ding… and I’m bound to keep on riding.” Sitting alone in our booth, the bad-ass was humming along with the brothers from Macon. It was near closing time & most of the crowd had cleared out… things were settling down. [It really was the calm before the storm]. Isz was studying his mug, deliberately passing it from hand to hand. The cold brew felt somewhat comforting, pressing it against his sweaty palms. He snuck a glance at the only way out… looked down at his beer… & then back again to the exit. We were waiting on him. He knew that. [I’d been out there for over 15 minutes]. There was no doubt [in his mind] that he had to make a move soon. Isz just knew that the guy walking in & out of the kitchen was watching him. The dude was big, linebacker size. Coulda been a UK football player… probably was. His head was shaved clean & in his left ear, he had a small gold hoop earring [not something you saw a lot of guy’s wear in the mid-70’s, outside of the hippies at the local head-shop].

Back & forth he went.
“Man, I got get outta here.” …Isz thought to himself. Jumping to his feet, he turned his beer mug bottom up… one last drink of courage. Digging through his jeans, he found a couple of wadded up bills, throwing them on the table. “No reason to stiff our waitress, she was the best.”

“And I’ve got one more silver dollar, but I’m not gonna let ‘em catch me, no I’m not gonna let them catch…the midnight ri-der.”


Please see Part II for the remainder of the story...