The best-laid plans of mice and men often go awry.

June 25, 2011 § Leave a comment


This is the sound.” – Get cape wear cape fly.

I had a relapse. Those of the more regular visiting would have noticed me almost levelling out of late. “Poorly written but compelling.” That was how someone who doesn’t know me talked this blog once when they didn’t know they were talking about me. A compliment I took. I realised that I never told you what happened in Iowa. So here it is, for anyone who held on.

The bunker threatened to flip the car. I’ve never been in a car where it felt like the back tyres where going to come over my head before. As the driver you always feel the weight distribution in the wheels but it’s an odd and unusual sensation to feel all of that weight in the front two wheels as the back comes off the ground. We didn’t flip. But we rolled. Fuck me did we roll. Maybe three times I think. The belts held us in place. It’s not a common experience, the rolling of a car, of this I am glad. As the driver you feel the magic moment of control pass as you tip the angle beyond the point of no return. Gravity starts to roll us. Gravity always wins. You feel it in the first spin, the viciousness and the speed of the roll. I knew we were going to do it again from the little time we spent with the roof to the floor. We rolled again and slid to a  stop on the roof. The car was hissing the throttle was jammed on. The wind shield was put through along with the sides. These old jags don’t come with roll cages. You take a moment in these situations to gather your thoughts. The pros and the experienced know this. They suck the oxygen in deep and they check the body for any bumps and knocks. My face was cut a little below my right eyes but other than that I was fine. I realised that I hadn’t done the gentlemanly thing  and checked on the woman’s welfare before my own. She was breathing hard, glass in her hair, but she nodded to let me know she was fine. We then realised that we were upside down. It’s strange how seconds before you could have been dead and now your worried about the fact your upside down. The car was hissing like a pissed snake and white smoke started to waft out of the engine. When it comes to engine smoke you only start worrying when the smoke goes black. The problems started to work back from still being alive, are you ok? Is Rosey ok? Is that smoke anything to worry about? Is that police car still anything to worry about? Fuck. The police car. I checked the mirrors that weren’t fucked. That skill full bastard had held it on the green and now had that fat old passenger door spotlight shining bright lighting up wreck up like a Christmas tree. We popped the seat bleats and fell to earth with all the grace of a fat man falling down stairs. We were in state for this kind of punishment. The Cop was shouting something in the dark but it was all a blur to us rolling around on what used to be the roof. We both knew he would be standing prone with the gun fixed on us. We gathered our thoughts and Rosey gathered the money. The cop was still shouting with that light fixed on us, he wasn’t approaching the car on his own. ” I have an idea ” Without another word Rosey put a slug into the dashboard. It scared the shit out of me. Thick black smoke started to pour from the engine. She could have said something. But she was one of those people who won’t warn the person next to them that they were about to unload a shotgun round into the dashboard of the car they were sat in. This is why I liked her so much. The smoke was our cover. We ran for it with the cop none the wiser. Money and all. We were about 200 yards away when the car took to flames. You could still smell the burning coke through the petrol and plastic. The dark would get us to safety. Through the woods. They never saw our faces. Not once. Scott fuckin’ free.

 

Ernest Hemmingway once said that morality of the deed lies in how you feel afterwards, this is how you determine between the good and the bad.

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