He Told Me So . . .

I was trudging up the hill toward Whiting Avenue, huffing and puffing on this last leg of my journey home when I heard a series of loud gunshots behind me. Because I'm a master of ignoring such things, including wolf whistles and the screams of the damned I used to hear every time I walked by the Old Bay Steamer in Fairhope, my gaze remained forward and I continued walking.

Less than 30 seconds after I heard gunshots, I heard the loud roar of a turbo jet gaining on me. Afraid to look behind me and too scared to look toward the sky, I began running, with the sound coming closer all the while. When I realized it was a car, I became aware that this killing machine was out to flatten me, and I threw my books to the side and dove over the guard rail, tumbling head over heels into a culvert filled with dirt and gravel.

The sound did not pass me and recede, but stopped right beside me.

"I swear! You move up here and tell everyone you're going back to school and making all that money selling porn on the Internet, and I find you lying in a ditch by the roadside!" a male voice shouted over the engine of the car he was driving.

I burst in tears, from both fear and relief: it was Jim!

"Oh, Jim!" I wailed, crawling toward the road.

"Don't 'Oh Jim' me, Missy! You get in this damned car or I'll tan your hide but GOOD!" Jim yelled.

There was so much smoke billowing out of the exhaust pipe that it seemed as though something were on fire in the trunk of the car.

As soon as I stood up and went to open the door of the car, Jim took off, backfiring the whole 50 feet until he stopped. I ran to the car, grabbed for the door, and he took off again. This went on until we were in front of my apartment.

I couldn't be angry, as I was so happy to see my best friend in the world!

He was sitting on the hood of the car wrapping yarn around an "X" made of two popcicle sticks. He held up his partial creation and waved it around. "This is the Eye of God-it sees all! It knows the crap you've been pulling!"

"I'm so happy to see you!" I said, still gasping for air from my walk up the hill.

"Yeah, well, you need to quit that smoking," Jim said, sliding off the hood of his car and blocking the way into my apartment. "And why're you walking when you have this perfectly good Rice Rocket parked here?"

My face turned red, and I let my chin drop to my chest.

"STIMPY! Answer me! Or is it for the reason I'm thinking you're walking?"

I burst into tears. "My Honda won't start!" I shouted, beating his chest with my fists. "It won't! You were right!"

"HA! Hahaha! Haahaaahaaa!" Jim hooted, grabbing my arm and dancing a jig. "I told you so! I tooooold yoooouuu sooooo!" 

It was true. Eleven years before, he had told me what a mistake I had made when I bought my Honda. 

"You're a fool to pay good money for a Jap Trap like that," he'd said after putting me in a head lock. "You shoulda bought a VOLKSWAGEN FOX like me!"

For 11 years, he'd been taunting and ridiculing my car buying decision, even as his own car shuddered and lurched and fell apart piece by piece as he forced it to carry him five or six miles a day through the streets of Fairhope.

But 135,000 miles and very few major repairs later, I knew he'd been right about my Honda. I was just too proud to admit it.

"Well, you were right," I said once more.

"You're damn right I was right! You never listen to me! Remember that time I said, 'You better not move to Mobile,' and you did? And all that awful stuff happened to you and you finally came crawling back to me a year later?" he said. "Shall I go on?"

I shook my head, and went to embrace him. But he pulled away and opened the door of the car he was driving. I finally got a good look at it, without all the smoke from the exhaust obscuring it. "Where'd you get this car?" I asked.

"She's a beaut," he said. "Like-new, 1973 Ford Pinto. Found it abandoned in the parking lot behind Dillard's department store. Cleaned her up, lifted a new battery from the Discount Auto Parts store, Jeannette brought her tool box over and replaced the engine, Sonny stole me some tires off a car down at the pier, and whammy bammy! It sure as hell beats your stinkin HONDA that doesn't even run anymore!" he laughed, holding his stomach and stomping his feet.

Oh, how I wish I were as "together" as my best friend, Jim.

Read a random GC installment!

Complete Archive