44

Chapter 44

The police chase made the news, both the 5 and 6 o'clock varieties. That was no small feat in our town. I guess it could be partly owed to the unusual nature of the chase, but it was more probably about the more unusual nature of its end. Indeed, David Copperfield (of the illusionist, not the literary phylum) could not have pulled off such a feat. Channel 9 caught the mythical event from their very expensive helicopter camera: Bufford in the big yellow truck careened down the 4 lane with at least 12 police cars in proverbial and literal hot pursuit. They all headed for the large tunnel that would take them under the reservoir and into suburbia, disappearing one by one beneath the dark maw of concrete and kudzu. Then, in a cloud of grease and swirling dirt, they all emerged on the other side. All, that is, except for one large yellow truck and its driver. Half the police force of that fair city squealed, squeaked, and slid to a stop, confused, their tires leaving numerous erratic question marks streaked into the asphalt.

What had happened was that time had stopped again. It caught Bufford and the yellow truck in its powerful sphere of influence, but missed the rest of the show. The city's finest were completely unaffected and no one saw nothin' except for, as one officer put it, "a blinding flash of light accompanied by the sound of one of those model T rubber squishy horns, farting over and over for the span of 5 or 6 seconds." (His testimony is as of yet uncorroborated). Be that as it may, Bufford exited the tunnel in what was assumed to be his current state of fight-or-flight, driving 82 miles per hour like a bat out of...a tunnel, and hit the surface in the dead of night. Now, this confused him something terrible, so he used his rear-view mirror. There were no police cars. There were no cars at all to speak of, it being now 3:37 a.m. and all. He pulled off the road onto the gravel shoulder and caught his breath and bearings. This took a while. Then, he tossed the massive head off and elbowed it across the seat, stumbled out of the truck and stumbled further, out of the fuzzy dog suit. He had a headache the size of his problem and couldn't see through all the stars and pinwheels dancing in his field of vision. In a few minutes, he'd stumbled all the way to a pay phone and dialed my number. At which point I was involved, again.

After the fiasco, I had phoned Debbie to pick me up after her kickboxing session (or organic gardening class, I don't remember which), and she was happy to do it. Not explaining why I needed a ride required some conversational diversion tactics, especially when the first thing she asked was whether or not I had seen the crazy police chase on the news, and whether I thought it was an alien abduction or a spontaneous sink hole like those in Chile and Austin, MN. I told her I thought both propositions were equally tenable and suggested we spend the rest of the trip praying for the perpetrator's clearly wayward soul. That worked. Debbie was a devout member of the Jesus, Mary and Joseph Community Church. I was praying for something else entirely: for the grace to gracefully overstep the bounds of social etiquette with Debbie. (No, not that). Debbie owns a tan 1978 Suburban.

When she pulled up at my house, I leaned forward but paused with my hand on the door.
"Deb, I've decided I need to ask you for a favor."
"Shoot, boss." (She always called me that).
"I need to borrow your car. And before you answer, you need to know it's a longer-term thing, like, 2 weeks."
"Well, I guess that would be OK. What for?"
"It's a long story, but it has much to do with therapeutic art, family ties and a sacred promise I made to a dear friend who has recently passed."
She was silent but for a moment then she opened her door, stepped out onto the street, and tossed the keys through the open window onto the cracked faux leather seat.
"Don't scratch her up, boss." She winked. "And don't stay gone forever. EcoCares likes to pretend we need you. Besides, you're kinda cute, and I miss you when you're not around." She winked, then flipped her long brown hair and walked toward the bus stop.
"I promise. You watch out for those sink holes, Deb. EcoCares likes to pretend that we need you, too." Then, "Take care...and thanks." I was impressed with my come-back.
Without turning around, she flopped a slender hand into the air behind her and strutted away, her hips still very loose from that gardening class, or so it would seem. And why had I never noticed that before?