Chapter Forty Eight

"It's a funny thing with this car Marty." Ted was driving, spread half eagle across the bench seat, arm over the back, steering with one hand, and barely watching the road. "It's been running on empty for the last 15 years. Haven't stopped for gas once. I been thinking about trying some high octane, some Ethel, kind of smooth out the pings, but I figured what the hell." The car occasionally would run off the road and Ted would grab the wheel with both hands and straighten up in the seat. As soon as he would right the ship, he would resume his languid pose. "Your car ever keep running for a while after you shut it off Marty? This one does. I timed it the other day, the engine cranked for 2 minutes and 17 seconds after it was completely shut off. Not a single spark to the cylinders and it ran and ran and ran. Piece of shit"

I sat on the passenger side, scared stiff at what was going to happen next. I looked down at my leg, unsure of how it got put back together. My eyes studied it closely, I couldn't find a mark. we pulled up to a run down diner. "Here's a Starbucks!"

"This isn't Starbucks." I feared retribution as I spoke. These were the first words I'd said in hours.

"Oh crap, whatever." Ted said. "They have coffee here, that makes it a Starbucks, you know like a Curad is a Band-aid, like an Amana is a Fridge, a Pepsi is a Coke."

I squeezed both eyes shut like I'd been hit by a hammer. I figured that would probably be the next thing in store for me anyway. Then I remembered what kind of car I drove before the accident. I owned a Honda Civic. A dull, boring, silver little Honda Civic. I had one of those wooden seat cover massagers in the driver's chair. The change holder was full of money for the toll booths. I hadn't been through a toll booth in my life.

Ted led me to the counter and told me to get the coffee while he used the restroom. The waitress laid down two brimming cups and demanded $2.75. I reached into my pocket and gave her 4 dollars. "Keep the change!" I said happily, knowing that a $1.25 was an ample tip in this situation. The norm for a lunch or dinner was 15 to 20 percent but when just having coffee you need to give at least a dollar. It's only fitting seeing as how she was providing you with a smile and pleasant service for only the price of a cup of coffee.

The very square and featureless jukebox in the corner of the diner began to play a song from the 1970's. I started to sip my coffee and slowly rotate to get a good look at who in God's name would be playing the song "I feel like makin love", when I had another rush of memories. The very first thing to come to mind was... I don't drink coffee. I eyeballed the room and carefully let the java that was in my mouth slowly leak its way back into the cup. Nobody noticed.

An extraordinary woman was dancing next to the music machine. She was wearing a pretty,blue, sun dress that would float around her beautiful body and occasionally grab on to a particular section to give you a graphic hint as to what she might look like naked and then let go and float some more. There was a large, yellow, corn on the cob printed on the midriff of the dress, caressed by a green sheath of husk. Her long, dark, hair was parted in the middle and framed her olive colored skin. Her eyes were closed as she danced but would open them with a shock at times. She could make eye contact with you no matter where you were in the room. I was too enthralled to notice that Ted had returned and was drinking his coffee, hunched over the counter, head down, like a he was watching a flea circus.

"Hey Linda Sue, how long before the Stroganoff is ready?" Ted seemed to know the waitress.

"No Stroganoff tonight Teddy, Mel is making some Jambalaya kind of crap." Linda Sue wiped her hands on her apron, ran them through her red, thick mane, picked up a burger and placed it on a plate. Hygiene wasn't a priority here. You could see Mel, wearing a stained Chef's hat, through the open window into the kitchen. He was alone and thinking. His lips were moving.

"You make it sound so appetizing."

"Bite me Ted."

"I may have to."

Ted looked over at me and noticed my fixation on the dancing beauty. "Likin the floor show Marty?"

"She's amazing! I can't take my eyes off of her."

"That's Tim."

"Oh my God! That's a man!"

"Oh no, that's not a man. We just call her Tim for short."

"Short for what?"

"Temptation." Ted held up his empty cup towards Linda Sue. Eyebrows raised and a straight line smile could only mean one thing. "Refill!"