I have a spirit car. An ex-official Travis County, Music Capital of the World hotrod deluxe. I’ve been on many a fast chase in that chariot. My favorite was the time I roared up the states to my hometown to visit a doctor for a psychological evaluation. My brother and I were tearing along and doing fine until we got close to the Texas state line. That’s where I got the first ticket. We made it up to Oklahoma City and stopped for a while. I met a lonely gal in a pancake shop and invited her out to my trusty steed for a refreshing toke, oops, I meant talk.
So we toked and talked and she left with a smile knowing that there are still real cowboys in the world, and I rambled on leaving my brother behind to ride with our mom. Boy, I missed all the fun. The show got good after the sun sank down. A ways up the trail a car pulls up behind me and I slide to the right to allow them passage. They slide in behind me and the cherries come on only this time I was doing no wrong so I pulls on over and stops. Low and behold who walks up to the window but a lady in blue with the face of an angel. She invites me to come join her in the patrol car and I obliged her every request.
She ran a courtesy check on me and I signed off and checked out on my way into a storm as I passed into Kansas. Now Kansas can be a mighty dull ride, but not this night. The winds were a howlin’ and the rain was a whippin’. Interstate traffic was moving slower and slower the farther we got into the plains. When I thought it couldn’t get no worse (I had slowed to about 40) it happened. Karackaboom! That bolt hit not half a car length in front of my coach. Musta scared the bejesus outta the feller behind me for he tore off around and was gone in no time. I knew I was in ole Scratch’s sights with no chance of a rainbow this night. That storm kept on coming and I slowed when I needed to. I’ve spent many a night on the trail through Kansas, but never a night as long as that. Surprised I didn’t run up on Toto and the flying monkeys.
Daylight come and saw me into Kansas City. Played hell a little more struggling to find my way out. Darned freeways in that area are always a nightmare and usually a daymare. As I was in need of making up some time, I poured heavy on the gas and passed another officer in the fog. Took that man thirty minutes to turn around and catch up. When he got the window I explained the situation and he asked me if I was on drugs. I told him I had a few but didn’t feel safe taking them as I was making such a long trip, besides I had a prescription for all of them. Then he asked about the illegal kind and I lied again. See I had Lied to the Angel in Oklahoma also. He asked again and I lied again. The third time he asked I told “Officer I won’t lie to you a third time. I have a small bag of weed in the console.” He had me to walk about fifty feet ahead of my car and keep my back turned as they searched the vehicle. At one point, they come and asked me where it was again, and I told them. When they called me back to my ride and said they couldn’t find it I pointed it out and they gave me two tickets and sent me on my way. Them Missouri officers were cool.
As I got into Iowa I had to pull over for some much needed shut eye so I parked under a tree and snoozed a while. Onward up the road I finally hit the crossroads and turned right. Drove on for a while longer and got an escort pull in behind. These officers saw me safely to the next crossroad about a hundred miles away where I took a left for the homestretch. It was nice to be home. A few months later I drove that old mare back to Texas and parked her in the pasture. I sure do miss that old gal. I came back here without her and the boys up here still don’t know what to think about this rough old ironrider. They call me no good and crazy as a loon, but that’s okay. Ain’t many of them could even crawl the path I’ve danced up in my days.