Short Stories

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Love on I-85 North

Charles Posey
[email protected]

I was headed north out of Charlotte on I-85 one Sunday afternoon. I was making good time on my way to Petersburg, Virginia. A quick stop for a burger, fries and a Pepsi, some gas and I was ready for the road again.

It had been a pretty good day up till then. Traffic was light to moderate, police were barely noticeable, and the road was free of most major construction. A glance at my watch, it read two o’clock. A bite from my burger; no tomato, sliced in half; placed the air conditioner on comfort and set my speedometer on 65, I settled back for the next four or five hour ride to Ft Lee.

I fiddled with the radio searching for stations that played my kind of music; late 60’s early 70’s. Those good old songs that still make you swing to the beat and rhythm. Songs with such moving lyrics as “Baby, baby, baby, baby, oowee baby”, or “Shoe-be-do-be-do”, and “La-la-la-la-la means I love you.” I eased back into my seat, satisfied with the meal, the ride, and the music.

Suddenly two cars shot passed me. I thought to myself, “Now that’s my kinda’ people” and I felt my foot drawn to the peddle. A smile struck the corners of my lips as my toes sunk into the accelerator. I do drive barefoot. One car, then two, a quick corner and there they were just ahead of me as the Temptations came over the radio singing, “Hold on I’m Coming.” I fell into the groove matching their speed, just three car lengths behind.

This is one of those necessary evils of the road where you have one car, the rabbit, setting the pace and a line of cars follows. Yes, yes, I know I was breaking the law, but it is this pleasure, this calling of speed that over takes the normal man and creates this lawbreaker who at any other time wouldn’t even think about doing something as wrong as speeding. But it was the madness of the moment, the music, the road itself that called out that which I keep hidden away, that demon inside. The speedometer raced pass eighty and I was in heaven.

The road grew quicker with its crooks and turns and I found myself a distance behind them, but I couldn’t be denied. I turned up the radio a bit louder and shouted, “Sing it Temptations!” I accelerated past a slow moving van and swung to the outside of a Buick then back to take the middle lane. The speedometer read ninety. I laughed a bit as the Buick tried to keep up. The name read “Roadmaster.“ I just flicked off the air conditioning easing the pressure off the engine and blew past it. I shot over a small incline and around a turn. There they were just ahead.

I crept ever closer with the speedometer past all indicators and heading toward “too fast”, but I had to catch them. Coming around a bend, I got a good look at them as I closed within an eighth of a mile. The leader was running a low riding green Jaguar with the tags that read “Primtime.” The driver was young and I could tell inexperienced. He had speed, power, and rack and pinion steering, but the yellow baseball cap pulled to the side was the give-away. It showed in his inability to judge traffic flow.

I eased off the accelerator coming along side a brown Chevy four cars away. I noticed how the Jaguar would get trapped behind shifting cars and end up being forced to accelerate around them. What a waste of good gas I thought to myself, “I’m running with amateurs.”

A quick left right lane change brought me right behind the second car. A 1992 Honda driven by a pretty young thing. Dark brown eyes, long flowing hair with a sun bathed brown complexion. Like a model out Ebony, she appeared; better yet, like the swimsuit clad centerfold of Jet. Yeah, she was easy on the eyes my kind of woman. I eased over a lane to get a closer look, but a quick smile from her startled me and I fell behind a car or two.

Keeping up with the Jaguar took skill and she had skill. She maneuvered around slower traffic, darted in and out from one lane to another, always one or two lengths behind. This demon that had been unleashed forgot about all else, like I was married with three children, but craved to get to know her better, so I pulled within a car length just two lanes over.

The radio blared, “Just my imagination” by the Temptations as I swung into the Kannapolis curve. I thought, “Was my imagination getting the best of me?”

The Honda took the middle lane, the Jaguar the inside lane, while I held up the outside lane as a sign whizzed pass that read, 45 miles to Thomasville. “Why not hang around with the pair until Thomasville”, I thought.

Braking slightly, I allowed the Honda to overtake me as we broke from a three lane to two. That demon that clung to the accelerator, peaked my curiosity with a still small voice in the back of my mind saying, “This could be her.” But my reality questioned back, “Her who?”

Suddenly, there came a vision of a woman out of the depths of that demon that clouded my reality for the moment. 5’6” she stood, long flowing black hair, dark brown eyes with a kissably soft complexion, legs that made you realize why God made woman finished off with a round but firm derriere. She possessed all those uncanny abilities that I craved in a woman like playing chess, talking politics without getting sentimental, understanding why men watch football all day Sunday just to question every move on Monday night, and of course the skill to drive without loosing one’s emotions. I sighed a little dreaming as I allowed myself to be boxed in beside her. I just had to take a closer look.

The tires bounced off the uneven pavement lined with tar at about the same speed as my racing heart. The constant thumping rang in my mind. Yes, she was pretty all of twenty-four. She appeared to be 5’4” with all the right measurements. I slipped a little closer trying not to alarm her. Suddenly a van changed lanes and forced her back. What grace! What ability she possessed. Without touching the brakes, she guided the Honda through traffic like a dancer on a crowded ballroom floor. Moving cautiously and carefully, she picked her way back towards the front. I marveled at her and found myself slowing falling under the spell of that demon that possessed by accelerator, who longed to have her, heading north on I-85 out of Charlotte.

“Shake Me, Wake Me (When its over)” by the Four Tops played and I found myself questioning my reality. The music set the mood, the hum of the tires against the road kept pace, while the changing road conditions kept rhythm. Together they were intoxicating.

Strong impressions of her overpowered my reality as that demon grabbed greater control over me. “Could this be, is it possible, maybe really the girl of my innermost dreams?” I thought.

She appeared to be all that any man might want in a woman, beauty you can see, skill you could grasp, but intelligence, I questioned seeing the Slurppy cup in the holder. It was a jumbo, which did give her another plus, but above all she could drive. Beauty and driving, a combination few women possess.

Passing up several opportunities to break free, I lingered behind just to be near her. I managed to maneuver myself behind her to study her moves. She wore those fine detailed lines that showed off her tight tail section. My imagination allowed me to ease even closer. I got so close that I could smell her hair. So it was processed, big deal! At least I couldn’t see any threads or glue tracks and it did have that fresh “Dark & Lovely” smell about it.

I advanced even closer right into her back seat. Uncontrollably, I began to mouthed the words of the song on the radio to her, “If I ruled the World” by James Brown. It was madness, but I couldn’t stop. I whispered those sweet words waiting on a reply as I learned forward to turn down her radio hoping to catch her response. When I got a whiff of her cologne; Old Spice? I looked down and noticed a sleeping figure. Alarmed, I let him have a quick shot of five hours driving in a hot car smell. He shuddered violently then fell back asleep. Shaken by the revelation I backed off.

The dream of that demon had been shattered yet the thought poured into my mind, “No, she couldn’t be teasing me; it must have been her brother!”

I tried to regain ground on her again, but the demon was beginning to loose it hold over my accelerator and I fell back. Seeing an opening, he came back to life and dug deep into my carpet and the car sprang like a leopard after fresh meat. “It can’t be that the woman of my dreams is already taken? Yes, it had to be her brother?”
I could feel pride swell inside of me as I continued to watch her as she switched her tail from one lane to the other. She was good and I was completely impressed. Lanes meant nothing as we crisscrossed each other. It was as if we were doing the mating dance and I was caught up in it wrapped tighter with every mile. “Thomasville, last exit”, the sign read.

Where had the time gone? Forty-five miles seemed like forty-five seconds racing with her. “She was magnificent!” I thought down deep.

But looking ahead, uneasiness came over me. It was the old triple threat; three lanes of slow moving traffic. It takes a pro to beat it. My heart beat wildly as I saw her slow and move to the center lane. “No, no my love” the demon screamed. “You’re good, but are you really that good?”

The triple threat is no easy move. It is equivalent to a 7-10 split in bowling, or an eagle on the back nine in golf, or a four rail bank shot in pool; almost always impossible to make. But somewhere deep in side the words came, “If you are going to be my lady, then earn my respect. Go for it!” So, I moved out of her way.

The Jaguar was caught between a transfer truck and a Pontiac, just like an amateur, unable to move, I held back giving her all the room she might need as she prepared for the run.

“Ah!”, I sighed, as she hesitated, missing two good opportunities. Maybe she wasn’t ready? Maybe I am asking too much of her? A worried sweat came over me as she shifted from one lane to another, missing another opportunity. I pulled up along side of her giving a reassuring smile trying to let her know, that pass or fail, I would still be there for her. A hopeful smile was returned.

Just then I felt the heat of a pick-up closing in behind us. A few more moments and it will have boxed us in and ended her chance to make me proud. My only option, move to hold the pick-up back from closing the gap and locking us down in a tight wade of traffic. So, I made the sacrifice by moving into his lane. She looked over acknowledging my unselfish act with a wink; then she was off.

It was unbearable for the split seconds it took her to skip two lanes, dart between the Jaguar and Pontiac, move between a transfer truck and Cadillac and arrive on the other side. Tears began to swell filling my eyes by some unconscious reason that I could not control as she swung low onto the shoulder and back up into traffic ahead of the pack for that demon was still in possession of me.

“Thank you! Thank you!” I gratefully said, thanking a benevolent God for seeing her though.

She had won the demon’s heart and I just had to be with her. Yet I took the easy way. Between two crossing transfer trucks, down to the inside lane pass a pick- up skip back across to the outer lane and backup to the middle passing a lumbering overloaded trailer. Ahead of everyone else we seemed to rejoice together.

Our merriment was short lived as the Jaguar broke from the back and shot between us. She immediately took off after him. “A flirt or a tease” I wondered.

The Supremes now came over the radio with “Stop in the Name of Love.” They were singing my song, yet the heart of the demon was breaking as she pulled away. Just then, the pick-up and a van caught up with me preventing the demon from heading off after her and I found myself unable to break free as I saw her disappear over a hill. Moments later, sadness set in as the Five Stairsteps came over the air with “Come back (Come back to me)”

At first, I debated whether to find them or not. I had already traveled over more than seventy miles with them, but as I cleared the pack and found myself in the clear that old demon was back. Again, the accelerator hit the floor as my nails bite into the rubber peddle.

The car screamed pass the construction pylons making them appear as one solid wall of alternating orange and white. The demon began to sweat as the thought passed through my mind, “Have I lost her?”

The radio had gone cold as I tried to regain my composure and perhaps make contact with her. “You lost that loving Feeling” by the Righteous Brothers played as I searched for new inspiration.

No matter what I did, speed up or slow down, I couldn’t find that rhythm. The Grateful Dead, Alice Cooper, and the Three Dog Knight were playing. I could feel the blood draining from my face as “Jeremiah was a Bull Frog” shrieked over the radio. I began to wonder aimlessly from lane to lane in search of her.

I swung through the North Carolina hills in anxious anticipation to find her. Had she stopped? Was there trouble? Had I in some erratic way moved passed her?

Approaching Colombia, I changed stations. “Float On” by the Floaters rallied by spirit and so I turned up the volume. Just as I was coming around a tree shaded bend, I saw that well rounded tail section that jiggled as it changed lanes. “I’ve found her!” I raced to her side.

A church bus momentarily interrupted my view as I pulled within two cars lengths of her. Switching lanes, I shot behind a trailer and ended up caught behind the Jaguar. She was no where in sight. Falling back, I prepared to pass the Jaguar when her headlights signaled me in my review mirror. “Oh joy!”, the demon cried.

There she was and I brimmed with happiness. I eased to the side opening the lane and watched as she broke to the front. We were together again and my happiness exuded from my face. Suddenly, her tail lights flashed. I saw the shark of the traffic lanes, an unmarked North Carolina State Trooper. His lights flashed. Her Honda slowed. We all slowed down. I passed the demon’s love on the side of the road. 90 in a 65 mile per hour zone had just cost him his love.

I dropped my speed back to 65, regained control of my vehicle, turned the radio down and watched as she disappeared around a curve in my review mirror. The radio now played “What Becomes of the Brokenhearted (Who have loved and now departed)” by the Temptations as the flashing lights faded from view.

“Ninety-Seven miles”, I remarked. Ninety-seven miles we traveled together; some ups, some downs. It seemed like a lifetime. I relaxed and continued my journey yet the memories lingered of my lost love on I-85 North.
THE END

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