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[LSWC] One Black and Foggy Night

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posted on Jun, 7 2008 @ 08:33 PM
One Black and Foggy Night

Perhaps this little story should have been called the Single Six, the cow, the nylons and the Starlight. One black and foggy night doesn’t even begin to describe it. Even if it was a little foggy and almost black.

Sometimes, life was such a daze and other times it was merely confusing. Things would happen that you couldn’t hardly believe and other times things happened that nobody would believe.

Runnin’ the coast in my dropped in front, dark shade of black 53 Ford coupe, little stock hubcaps, whitewalls and sweet sounding pipes . . . all of which was about it for the big time hot rod stuff . . . life could be pretty good.

Every now and then, cruisin down the Rincon next to the beach, the phosphorescence would be in and you’d be slidin down Highway 101 a little after midnight, locked in at a flat 55 per and watching the eerie lime green glow of the breaking waves in the pitch black night. Just sittin’ there, radio playing softly, listening to the sweet sounds of the glasspacks and the quiet flow of air around the car, wondering about life and thinking interesting thoughts about the sensuous young
woman sitting beside you. Lost in thought while time and miles slid by, all the while leaving the mystical environs of Santa Barbara behind headed for Ventura and home. Sometimes thoughts and dreams would come true, your date would be of like mind and you’d be looking for a place to park. A really good place.

Some of the guys - guys who I thought were smart - seemed like they were always getting caught by the cops. Most times with their dates less than fully dressed. They’d pull over almost anywhere the mood struck them. Truth was, parking places along the coast proper, a good parking place, a place where you weren’t going to get bothered at the least or scared spitless at the most when a police officer shined his flashlight in the window cuz you didn’t even see him pull up and park since you were . . . busy. Yeah, that’s it . . . busy. Those places were few and far between, but for a guy who paid attention, they were there.

You know what’s funny about all this cops vs. the lovers stuff? No one I knew, including me, ever got told to go home after getting busted by the men in blue. They always told us to go somewhere else.

Anyway, I’d been watching this nice girl off and on for a while. Nice in manner, nice in looks and simply put, pretty damn nice. We’ll just call her Dixie here. Not her name, but it’ll do.
Now Dixie, a girl I’d seen around and tried not to think about too much since I didn’t think I stood a chance with her, somewhere along the line she got interested in me. Sorta flattering it was, but the first I learned about it was when she gave me a pair of green & white fuzzy angora dice she’d knit. I didn’t know what to think about that, but it did set me to thinking.

I carried the dice to the next class and was fortunate to have one of the Bobo twins explain to me just what it did mean. The Bobo twins, a couple of nice girls, both smart as all get out and I’ll be darned if I know how they ended up being called the Bobo twins, but they didn’t seem to mind. They were so darned good looking, no one else seemed to mind either. Heck, I felt privileged just to have one of them talk to me. Having both of them talk to you at the same time could be kinda mind boggling. More than a few times I saw the two of them talking to one guy and you could see that it was a one sided conversation. They’d be talking and he’d be nodding his head up and down with this totally doofus smile on his face. The Bobo’s sorta had that effect on a guy. I wasn’t sure if it was their winning smiles, total good looks or the way they filled out their sweaters.

I don’t know what Bobo translates to in your neck of the woods, but in our school it meant nothing but good. Good like in desirable, bitchin or any other mellifluous descriptive term you want to use. Sometimes, when one of them walked by, everything came to a halt. Everything. Boys and girls. The boys would be standing there like a pack of dogs with their tongues hanging out and the girls would be quiet and watching. A few of the girls disapproved of the Bobo’s, but most of the girls liked them just fine - they really were nice girls - and more than a few girls secretly or even outwardly wished they were like the Bobo’s. Especially in the looks department.

The Bobo’s had names, nice ones, but the only time you used them was if you were talking to them and not about them. Not that we had much to talk about in talking about them, but as good looking as they were it was kinda hard not to say something when they walked by. I guess they were like any other twins with parents who had a sense of humor. The way I heard it their old man - with his decidedly different sense of humor - was the one who named them. One was named Merrilee and the other Darralee. At least I think that’s the way it shook out.

The Bobo twin who talked to me about Dixie and the dice was Merrilee. I’d had a crush on Merrilee for a long while, but it was one of those long distance deals. You know, kinda like grade school where you had a secret girl friend. A secret girl friend being one of the girls you secretly admired. At least you did until you were dumb enough to tell somebody your little secret and then the teasing started. Which of course made you drop that particular secret girl friend by simply stating, “Do not!” The “do not” meaning you didn’t really like her even if you’d told someone minutes before that you did. Sometimes grade school survival hinged on a quick lie. The relationship, what there was of it, was easily taken care of. Once the secret was out you had to get yourself another secret girl friend. Easily done, cuz the girl in question never knew anyway, so what the heck. Nothing like having your pick of the school beauties....

End of Part 1

posted on Jun, 7 2008 @ 08:34 PM
After talking to Merrilee and finding out the gift of the dice was a bit of a love offering, the light dawned. Once I got home, I phoned Dixie and asked her out.
Seemed like pretty innocent stuff until I got to her house and her dad did a little of that looking askance stuff when he asked where I was taking his daughter and I was stupid enough to tell him the truth. The 101 Drive In. The drive in movies. The passion pit, the dance floor for the horizontal mambo, the . . . well, you get the drift.

I guess her old man figured if I was dumb enough to admit we were heading for the Drive In then maybe I was too dumb to figure out what to do when we got there. In the end it didn’t make any difference. Dixie had it figured out and she damned near kissed my lips off. I had no idea you could kiss a girl for three hours straight or however damn long it was. I’m not saying I didn’t enjoy it, but it was a whole new experience for me.

Talk about chapped lips, I felt like I’d laid a big smacker on a sanding belt. Not that there was anything wrong with Dixie, other than her more than serious zeal for kissing. Damn. By the time we got to the end of that, I was ready to go home. Screw second base or whatever the hell it was.

That was the one and only date Dixie and I went on. To be fair, maybe I should have offered to give the dice back, but I’d grown used to them hanging on the mirror and I liked the little fact that the dice made a statement I couldn’t make myself. The little statement being that here was a guy that girls liked. Some girls anyway. Dixie never said anything about the dice and it wasn’t long until I saw another pair of half finished knit dice hanging out of her purse and figured she was getting ready for the next guy. Not sure how all that worked out, but Dixie was an ok gal and to a small extent I was sorry that I wasn’t the right guy for her. It was gonna be interesting though. Interesting to see how the next guy made out and maybe even see if he bought out the Chapstick supply at the ASB store in the cafeteria. Damn, I think I was licking my lips for three days straight after the date with Dixie. Lord knows how the next guy was gonna fare.

After the Dixie deal, I’d wander into Mrs. Christiansen’s English class, sit down next to Merrilee, glance over, she’d smile her beautiful smile and I’d sit there like it didn’t make any difference. Sometimes I was so damn cool that I was stupid. Totally stupid. I kept telling myself, this girl likes you. She doesn’t smile at anyone else like she does you.
I wasn’t dumb though. Slow maybe and after a couple of weeks went by, I finally got up the nerve to ask her out. Like somebody said, all she could say was no. I knew that already, it was getting your heart trampled on that hurt. Once I thought about it a little bit, I realized that girls almost always turned down a date with the utmost grace. At least they did if the guy was serious and polite to start with.

One of the best looking cheerleaders on the squad said yes to a date with a totally geeky guy just because some of the guys were waiting for her to say no and then they could start razzing him. She knew what was going on and said yes to their complete surprise and she especially surprised the geeky guy who’d screwed up his courage and asked her out in front of God and everybody. In fact, after that first date, she decided she kinda liked him and much to the dismay of a couple of guys who felt they were God’s gift to women, she took to running around with him. The two of them showing up together at football games, sock hops and the Christmas formal. Not to mention hitting the beach on the good days of winter. We started looking at the geeky guy with different eyes. Maybe there was more to this wimmin stuff than we suspected. I mean, if a totally geeky guy could end up with a girl like that, maybe there was a chance for us plain old sorta respectable and not too bad looking guys. I sure hoped so and if nothing else, it gave us hope and more than a few of the guys started asking out girls that we’d thought about asking out in the past, but decided they’d probably say no and why bother. Somewhere in here we were learning that the girls didn’t always decide on accepting a proposition just because the guy was a handsome devil. Bein a handsome devil didn’t hurt, but we were finding it wasn’t always necessary.

So with me finally getting up the courage to ask Merrilee out, the toughest part was getting her to slow down long enough to talk to me between classes. The Bobo twins were smart girls, got good grades and didn’t waste time between classes. Once I got her stopped somewhere between English and math class, tripped over my tongue and stumbled through my little speech, Merrilee said ok, told me to meet her after school and we’d talk about it some more.
After school was no big deal. For a while there I wasn’t sure exactly what was gonna happen, but all it was, was ironing out the details, deciding where to go, the time and all that critical date stuff.

End of Part 2

posted on Jun, 7 2008 @ 08:35 PM
Our first date was interesting . Simple, but interesting. We went to the Ventura theater on a Saturday night, sat in the balcony through a double feature, drank cokes, shared popcorn and held hands. I was floating along in seventh heaven, but Merrilee seemed sorta matter of fact about it all. Not bored or anything, just that she’d been down that road before.
I took her home, walked her to the door as a young gentleman was expected to do and instead of going for the good night kiss when she paused at the door, I asked her out for the following Saturday night. Her response absolutely floored me.

She asked, “Got a gun?”

“A gun?”

“That’s right, a gun.”

“You mean a real gun?”

“Yes, a real gun. One that shoots real bullets.”

“I have a Ruger 22 six shooter. An old Single Six my cousin left behind when he went into the Army.”

“Good. Bring it with you tomorrow when you pick me up.”

“Pick you up?”

“Yes, pick me up. I’ll pack a picnic lunch and you be here at noon.”


“Yes, noon. Are you an echo?”


“Never mind, just be here at noon. And bring the gun.”

With that said, she pressed herself against me, laid a smacker on me that lasted about three seconds, smiled, turned and went inside. Jeezus . . . that three second kiss said more than three hours of locking lips with Dixie at the Drive In ever did. For a few seconds I didn’t know what to think, but after that kiss, I’d have delivered damn near anything to Merrilee’s door.

I thought the request for a gun was strange, but Merrilee was a good girl far as I knew and I didn’t think we were gonna embark on a life of crime or anything like that. Even so, it looked to be interesting.

Sunday morning dawned, bright and clear and fairly warm all things considered. I dug out the six shooter and after a bit of rooting around, I found three boxes of bullets and figured that oughta do it.
I got cleaned up, put on a pair of levis, a button down short sleeved cotton shirt tucked in, a pair of loafers with white socks and that was about it for me as far as fashion went. I stuck the gun and bullets in the pockets of my jacket, rolled it up, walked through the house and out the back door where I saw mom watering her roses. Dad was long gone to the golf course.

Mom looked at me and said, “Kind of warm for a jacket isn’t it?”

“Maybe, but you always tell me to be prepared so there ya go.”

She smiled and went back to her watering. I hoped the next thing she heard wasn’t that her son was sitting in jail because he’d been caught with a gun.

Actually, guns at the time were no big deal. More than a few times my friends and I would walk through town with our 22 rifles, headed for the hills and no one seemed to mind. Once in a while a cop would stop and ask if the guns were unloaded and they always were. We’d heard about a few who were caught with loaded guns in town and they paid dearly for it. Arrested, guns confiscated, mom and dad had to drag down to the police station and once you got out there was hell to pay at home. Not to mention you didn’t see the gun again for a long time.

Pistols though, pistols were a whole other story. Trick with them was to pack em away in the trunk and not get em out until you got to where the shooting was going to take place. The locking the pistol in the trunk bit a rule I followed religiously.

I pulled up to Merrilee’s house and she was sitting on the porch swing waiting for me. When she got up, I saw that she was wearing dark blue twill shorts and a sleeveless white button front cotton blouse. A pair of tennis shoes with bobby sox and that was it. The weather was warm enough for shorts and the shorts weren’t really short, they were what women usually wore in hot weather, but on Merrilee . . . son of a bitch. I wasn’t sure the blouse buttons would hold up to the duty they were gonna be called upon to perform. I guess I forgot to mention that Merrilee and her sister looked like they’d climbed onto the maturity bandwagon long before the other girls heard it was in town. They had curves. Everywhere.

Merrilee smiled, walked down the walk with picnic basket in hand, stopped by the car door and asked, “Did you bring the gun?”

I wasn’t sure exactly what she had in mind and just nodded my head up and down. Geez . . . it was hard enough to talk to this girl when she was fully dressed. Wearing shorts . . . wow. She really had a pair of legs, but the best part was her terrific smile. It seemed like the whole room lit up when she smiled. I know, we were outside, but she kinda had that effect on a guy. I still couldn’t believe I was here with her.

She didn’t say another word about the gun until after we’d driven out to the beach and up along the riverbed, parked, ate lunch and were sitting on a blanket in a most private place. I didn’t think anyone knew about the little bamboo grove I’d found a long time back. Easy to walk to, it looked at first like it could be a tough drive. Not too many were willing to take a chance on getting stuck, but I’d found there was only a short blast across some soft sand to get there and after that it was mostly good dirt road all the way.

Anyway, Merrilee asked if she could shoot the gun and since we were in one of the best spots around for plinking there was, I didn’t have a problem with it. She had a pretty good handle on shooting the darned thing, sent the tin can targets flying with just about every shot and it was enough for me to load it up and watch her pop off the rounds. After the first box I thought she’d be bored with it, but she wasn’t.

About halfway through the third and last box she said, “We’d better save some of these.”

“What for?”

“In case we need them.”

End of Part 3

posted on Jun, 7 2008 @ 08:36 PM
I wasn’t sure what we’d need them for, but it wasn’t long until I found out. I say not long, but it was the following weekend when we had a date for the Drive In.

All she said about that was, “Bring the gun.”

I did, but I had it locked away in the trunk. Surprising to me, she never said a thing about it
when I picked her up or while we were at the Drive In.

So that’s the way our dates went for a while. I’d ask her out, she’d tell me to bring the gun,
I’d tell her I would put it in the car - actually it stayed in the trunk, but it was buried away pretty good - we’d go out to the show, walk in or drive in, cruise over to Fosters Freeze or Merles Drive In after the show, see what was happening, check out the latest hot rod or custom and I’d take her home where she would lay one of those killer three second kisses on me.

I don’t know about you, but that was enough to keep me going. There was a whole lot implied in those brief little kisses. I hated to admit it to myself, but I looked forward to those few seconds of bliss every Saturday night more than I’d ever looked forward to anything. Christmas, birthdays, anything....

The time finally came when I learned what she wanted the gun for. I felt like our relationship was pretty normal stuff except for her asking if the gun was in the car. I figured I’d cross that bridge when I came to it and if she wanted to do something seriously illegal she’d be on her own. I was smitten, but not that smitten. Still though, I was curious about what she wanted with the gun, but never asked. It was all about those Saturday night good night kisses, ya know? Sure you do....

There were a lot of good places around Ventura to park with a beautiful young woman even if we weren’t doing much parking. Holding hands at the show and the good night kisses were about it. At least they were until the night we got a pizza at Tony’s down by the Mission after the show.
When I got back to the car with the pizza, she suggested we drive up the hill to the dirt road by the V, park, eat pizza, drink beer and watch the city lights. I was wondering where we were gonna get beer, but didn’t say anything. Once we got parked and to my surprise, she pulled a couple cans of beer out of her purse and plunked em down on the seat between us. She’d swiped em out of her folks fridge.

My thinking was calm and simple. You know . . . hot pizza, beer and a lovely young woman parked with me in a somewhat deserted place. Life just couldn’t have gotten any better. Hell, I didn’t care if the beer was a touch warm. The night looked to be more than interesting.

We finished the pizza, drank the beer and I was settling back in the seat with modest expectations and high hopes.

Merrilee smiled, opened the glove box, looked inside and asked, “Where’s the gun?”

“Where’s the gun?”

“Yes, the gun. Where’s the gun?”

“It’s in the trunk.”

“Well, get it out.”


“Yes, here.”

“We’re too close to the houses to be shooting.”

“I know that. Get it out, put it in the glove box and I’ll tell you why.”

So I got the damn thing out, bullets and all. I figured bullets would be the next thing she asked for so I may as well get them out now.

First thing she asked was, “Is it loaded?”

“No. It’s not loaded.”

“Well, load it and then put it in the glovebox.”

“I don’t think it’s a good idea to have a loaded gun in the car and it’s not a real good idea to keep it in the glovebox.”


“Why what?”

“Why do you think it’s a bad idea to keep it in the glovebox?”

“Geez Merrilee. That’s the first place a cops gonna look.”

“Well, you’ve gotten tickets before haven’t you.”


“Did the cop look in the glove box then?”


“Well he won’t look next time either.”

“Ok, but why do you want a loaded gun in the car?”

“Remember Bobby Scott? The guy I used to date?”


“Well, one night we were parked down at the beach in the pier parking lot and this bum just walked up right next to the car and looked in the window. He scared me to death.”

“Maybe so Merrilee, but you can’t go shooting people just cuz they scared you.”

“I know, that wasn’t the bad part. After that, I didn’t want to park down by the pier anymore so I had Bobby take me down to the river by the Montalvo golf course after a party. It was a little bit scary, but at least we weren’t going to have a bum stick his face in the window and scare us to death.”

“If the bum by the pier wasn’t the bad part, what was?”

“Well . . . we were parked down by the river, Bobby was about to kiss me when I looked up and saw a cow stick it’s face through the open window and look in. It scared me so bad that I just freaked out. I started screaming and got a little hysterical and I almost couldn’t stop. Bobby was nice about it, but the next day he told his friends and they started teasing me so I broke up with him.”

“Ok, but you can’t go around shooting cows either.”

“I know, but I feel better just knowing the gun is there.”

So that was an interesting night. Not a whole lot of necking going on, but I’d learned a few things. At least she wasn’t going to have me headed down the rough and rocky road of crime. I figured for a while there she’d want to knock over a liquor store or something, but she was such a sweet girl I found it hard to believe she would do such a thing. It was nice to know that all it was, was a fear. A pretty well grounded one. I think a bum sticking his face in the window would have scared me half to death. That’s the way things went for a while. I left the gun in the glove box and she pretty much quit asking about it.

End of Part 4

posted on Jun, 7 2008 @ 08:37 PM
Somewhere along the line I’d learned that you could really impress a girl if you took her to Santa Barbara for dinner and a show. The dinner didn’t have to be anything fancy. If you were early enough you could eat dinner at the coffee shop on the pier or do the seafood bit at Castagnola’s at the bottom of State Street. The best part was going to the movies at the Fox Theater. It was a classy place that looked like it was modeled after an opera house in Spain. Taking a date to the show there never failed to impress.

I figured I’d take our relationship a step up from the usual Saturday night at the movies and a coke afterward at Fosters Freeze or Merles Drive In. Things went as advertised and Merrilee was in a good mood after dinner at Carrillo’s, a nice restaurant with great food a little ways up State Street from Highway 101. The show at the more than nice Fox Theater was the topper to it all.

Rolling home along the coast, headed east in the almost pure blackness of a dark night, the sky lit with stars and Merrilee sitting next to me made life darned near perfect. She was leaning on my shoulder and singing softly along with the radio. She had a good voice and it was most pleasant.
When we hit the top of Carpinteria grade above County Line Beach, we could see that the phosphorescence was in and the breaking waves were glowing with a soft light. The almost eerie, lime colored waves seen way down the beach and the fog bank sitting offshore near the islands were quite a contrast to the starlit sky. It was natures own light show and like nothing we’d seen before.

Merrilee put her hand on my shoulder and said, “Let’s stop and watch the ocean for a while.”


“Do you know a good spot? Somewhere the cops aren’t going to bother us?”

“I know just the place.”

The little known entrance to the cattle ranch just up from the oil company where dad worked wasn’t far away. When we got there, we were the only car around as far as I could see. I swung the 53 across the other two lanes of the three lane highway, went up the short run of asphalt, rolled across the railroad tracks that paralleled the coast highway, went through the wide opening in the brush, turned left and drove about a hundred yards west down to an opening in the brush, turned left again and parked. We were facing south, looking out over the ocean and the car was well hidden by the tall brush. We couldn’t be seen from the highway or by an oil company worker going through the gate and up to the wells on the hill behind. It was, the perfect place.

Somehow, things seemed different. I felt like we were at a point in our relationship where things were going to change. They did, but I didn’t have a clue as to how much they were going to change. Even so, I was willing to go along with wherever she wanted to go.
Along with the change, that was the end of the little three second goodnight kisses that implied so much and left so many other things unsaid. We’d parked before, but never like this. Usually a few kisses and hugs along with a lot of talking.

Outside the car, the ocean was lost in the blackness of the night. Inside, we were warm and comfortable. The radio was playing softly, the panel light gave off a gentle glow of illumination that lit the inside of the car with a soft, almost pastel colored light and Merrilee looked more beautiful than I’d ever seen her. I was totally awed, I’d never seen anything like it. She didn’t say a word.

I reached out to her, she turned toward me, kissed me and it seemed like no time until we were completely lost in one another. Lost to the point where I had her dress and slip off and was fumbling with the clasp of her bra. I’d heard guys talk about popping the damn things loose with one hand, but I couldn’t budge it with two hands. She took mercy on me though. She reached around back, popped it loose and with a shrug of her shoulders the bra slid down her arms, ended up lying on the floor and her breasts were . . . right there. Right there in front of me. It was beyond my wildest dreams. I couldn’t hardly believe it, I’d imagined what they would be like, but I didn’t have a clue. Even today I can’t begin to explain it. Perfection comes to mind and the best part was, we were still on a roll.

I started fumbling with the clip or whatever the hell you call the garter belt thingy that held her nylons up. I was on the road to the promised land and I wasn’t gonna let a little thing like that stop me. I popped one loose, reached for the other, she sat up, looked at the drivers side window and screamed. I looked over and felt like screaming myself. There was a goddamned cow face right up against the glass and looking in the window. That wasn’t the bad part. It would light up and go dark, light up and go dark and now it seemed like the whole car was lighting up. I didn’t see Merrilee get the gun out of the glove box and I didn’t know what the hell was happening even after she started shooting. Right in front of me and I didn’t think to grab her hand. All I was trying to do was lean back in the seat and stay out of the line of fire. The old Ruger, which really wasn’t that old was a single action. Just like the old six shooters the cowboys in the movies used and it had to be cocked every time you fired it. I don’t know where the hell Merrilee learned to fan the hammer with the trigger held down. I sure as hell never showed her that little trick. She emptied all six shots at the window before I had a chance to say anything. Trouble was, the window was rolled up and the next thing that happened was, the cow reared up or back or whatever the hell it was, cut around the front of the car and went running up the tracks to the west like a one cow stampede. Next thing we knew the whole world lit up, the concussion from the noise hit us like a bomb going off, the car shook and the cow went flying across the hood in front of us and disappeared out of sight. When my mind returned to some semblance of normalcy, I realized it was the Southern Pacific Coast Starlight passenger train roaring by at 70 - 75 per about twenty feet away.

I looked over at Merrilee and she was gone. I looked in the back seat, no Merrilee. I flipped on the headlights, got out of the car and there she was, just a few feet from the right front fender. She was screaming, just standing there screaming in the cold night air and wearing nothing more than her high heels, nylons and panties. Her breasts bobbled up and down with each scream and the bad part was, she was waving the gun around. I wasn’t real sure it was empty and I didn’t know whether to stand there and look or try to get the gun away from her.

I finally started thinking rationally. Kinda hard to do for a while there. My heart was going about nine hunnert miles an hour and Merrilee standing there half undressed didn’t make it any easier. I walked over, put my arm around her and pulled the gun gently out of her hand. When I looked up at the rapidly disappearing Starlight I could see the light from the Mars headlight or whatever the hell you call it waving around and realized that was what caused the cows face as well as the interior of the car to light up and go dark. If we hadn’t been parked down in the brush like we were we probably would have realized the train was coming. As it was, the train was right on top of us before we knew what was happening.

End of Part 5

posted on Jun, 7 2008 @ 08:38 PM
I let go of Merrilee and held the car door open for her. I hated to do it, but the fun and games were over and it was a touch chilly out. After that little escapade, thoughts about sex were forgotten . . . well . . . more for her than for me, but I wasn’t going to push her.
I shut the door, walked around to the drivers side, got in and shut the headlights off. Merrilee was sitting there in the dim glow of the panel light and not saying anything. She looked like she was going to start crying. That made about as much sense as anything else considering what had gone on in the last couple of minutes. When I looked a little closer I could see her eyes were closed and she was holding her hands in her lap. She didn’t seem bothered in the least that she was still half dressed. It looked like her mind was far, far away. It wasn’t long until the tears started rolling down her face. She didn’t make a sound, she just sat there. Right up till then, it had been more than pleasant even if it did get a little confusing . . . ok . . . a whole lot confusing....

I said, “Merrilee, you need to get dressed.”

She turned, looked at me and said, “I know.”

She didn’t seem in any particular hurry to get dressed and finally she said, “Leave.”


“Yes, leave. Start the car and get me out of here. I don’t want to be here anymore.”

I fired up the car, turned the heater on, reached over the seat, retrieved her slip and dress off the back seat, set them down between us, leaned down, picked her bra up off the floor and put it in her lap. I waited for her to start getting dressed, but she sat there not saying a word and tears were still running down her cheeks.

Finally I said, “Merrilee, get dressed.”

“I will, just start driving.”

Kinda strange to say the least, but whatever she wanted was ok with me. I backed out, turned east, drove down toward the crossing and stopped. Geez . . . there was the dead cow lying across the narrow dirt road and there was no way to go around it. Merrilee looked at me and I looked at her and didn’t say a word. It was kinda tough to meet her eye to eye cuz she was still bare breasted and as appealing as ever if not more so.

Merrilee didn’t say anything for a little bit, then she got mad and said, “Drive over the damn thing!”

“I can’t Merrilee, it’s clear across the road.”

“Yes you can, just take a run at it.”

“No I can’t. The car will get hung up and then we’ll be sitting on a dead cow.”

“Well, do you want to sit here until someone finds us and puts two and two together?”


She sat there looking at me and I was looking at her. I wasn’t exactly sure what she was thinking, but me trying to put together a sensible plan of attack was kinda tough with her sitting there half undressed.

She said, “Are you worried about scratching the cars paint?”

“Not really.”

“There’s room to drive into the brush a little ways and then all you’ll have to drive over are the cow’s legs.”

That seemed reasonable. I was pretty sure someone would be along before too long. It didn’t seem like the Starlight engineer would have missed the sound of the engine hitting the cow. He probably saw it as well. Don’t know why, but the whole thing made me think about cowcatchers. The Starlight didn’t catch any cows, but it knocked em out of the way pretty good.

Merrilee sat up on the edge of the seat, I put the car in gear and thought about what I was going to do. The brush was about six feet high and I figured better to plow right on through than do the pussyfoot bit and get stuck in the brush. Jeezus . . . never in a million years did I think I’d be in a car out in the middle of nowhere with a more than beautiful bare breasted woman and about to run over a cow.

I revved up the engine and took a little run at it. It worked out pretty good considering. The brush didn’t let the car go in too deep and we ended up running over the cow’s back legs a little higher up than I thought. Besides the cracking and crunching sounds along with the noise the brush made on the side of the car, the only bad moment was when the rear tire spun on the cow and the car went a little sideways. Burning rubber on a dead cow was way down on the list of things I never thought I’d do.

I guess I got the guiltys then. I went across the tracks, rolled to the bottom of the little hill, checked for traffic and took off for Ventura. And Merrilee was still sitting there bare breasted and hadn’t made a move to get dressed. I had mixed emotions about that. I mean, the view was great, no doubt there, but I was a little guilty and figured we were gonna get stopped by the cops before too much longer.

When we crossed the Rincon railroad bridge, I took one last look at Merrilee and somehow I knew this was the last time I’d ever see her this way and determined to stick the more than delightful sight into my memory. A pleasant remembrance for a cold night I suppose.

Merrilee looked at me, started to say something and I said, “Get dressed Merrilee. We’re gonna be in town in just a minute.”

She didn’t say anything. She put on her bra, put her slip on over her head, got it squared away, pulled the dress over her head and was getting that squared away and then she pulled the dress and slip darned near up to her waist and was twisting things around so they were just right or comfortable or something. I guess I was watching too close and when I looked up I wasn’t far from hitting the abutment on the Ventura River bridge. I cranked on the steering wheel so hard that the car started into a slide and when I overcorrected it went into a slide the other way. I got it squared away after that one, looked at the end of the bridge and there was one of Ventura’s finest sitting there in his black and white with an expression on his face like he couldn’t believe what he was seeing.
When we rolled by, the cop car fired up, the red lights went on, the headlights went on and right there I knew I was screwed. I didn’t even try to play the innocent. I pulled over near the Cottage Café, shut off the engine and sat there waiting. It didn’t take long until the cop car pulled in behind us and the officer got out. I looked at the side window and there were six bullet holes through it, about three inches down from the top and they were all so close together a dollar bill would have covered them. I couldn’t believe I hadn’t seen it until now. I cranked the window down, hoping all the while I wasn’t looking like a madman winding away on the window crank.

End of Part 6

posted on Jun, 7 2008 @ 08:39 PM
The cop walked up, looked at me and said, “Step out of the car.”

I got out of the car and shut the door. He shined a flashlight in my face and asked, “Been drinking?”

“No sir.”

“What are you doing out this late?”

“Coming back from the show in Santa Barbara sir.”

“Let me guess. You took your date to the Fox theater didn’t you?”

“Yes sir. How do you know that?”

“Think you’re the first guy to try and impress a girl by taking her to the Fox? Give me your license please.”

I gave him my license, he looked at it, looked in the car at the registration in the steering column holder and then looked at Merrilee. She was smiling at him with her oughta be patented light up the room smile and didn’t say anything. The cop smiled back and didn’t say a word to her. Just tipped his hat with his hand a little bit.

He looked at me and asked, “How come you almost hit the bridge on your way in?”

Took me a few seconds to think up the answer to that one.

“I was talking to my girl friend and I got distracted.”

“She’s a pretty girl, but you ought to pull over somewhere and park if you’re
going to be paying that much attention to her while you’re driving.”

With that, he gave me my license back, walked to the cop car and got in.

I got in my car, the cop car red lights went out, he pulled around us and drove up Main Street.

I looked over at Merrilee to say something and then I realized why the cop smiled at her and recommended we go park somewhere. Her dress was still unbuttoned down the front and it was still pulled up around her waist and to top it off, her good looking legs were in full view.

I guess the cop figured that was his treat for the evening even if it was two o’clock in the morning. Merrilee smiled, pulled her dress down, buttoned it up and didn’t say a word the rest of the way home. When we got there, she gave me a kiss on the cheek, got out and went inside without a word. Couldn’t blame her I guess. It had been one hell of an evening.

It was a bit of a cool ride home with the window rolled down, but I wasn’t taking any chances. It was pretty obvious what the holes were and I figured any cop who saw them would be looking in the glovebox not long after.

I left the window rolled down when I parked the car in the garage. No reason to let dad in on my little secret. I could see myself walking for a couple weeks at the least and maybe for longer if he knew what had gone on. I had the good sense to pack the Ruger away in the trunk before I went in. It ended up in there for a while. In fact, for quite a while and somewhere along the line the tip of the barrel got rustier than all get out and to my eyes the gun was pretty much ruined.

Sunday morning, I got up early and after dad took off for the golf course, I tossed an old jacket I didn’t much care for into the car and took off myself. I drove down to the bamboo grove beside the river just up from the beach where I’d taken Merrilee shooting. After I made sure no one was around, I rolled the window up and threw a big rock through it. It took a couple of tries before the holes from the bullets could be torn away, but I didn’t want any evidence of what happened remaining on the car. After that, throwing the old jacket into the slowly running trickle of water and watching it float away was no big deal and no big loss. I wasn’t going to miss the damn thing.
After I got home I was picking up and sweeping the broken glass out of the car when mom came out.

She looked at the broken window and asked, “What happened?”

“Someone broke in and I guess the window was the easiest way to do it.”

“Did they take anything?”

“Just that old green jacket of mine.”

“Well, thank goodness that was all that happened. I never did like that jacket. It’s not the right color for you and I don’t know why your dad picked it out.”

Couple of days later I got a junkyard window, got it installed and a couple days after that mom bought me a new jacket. Proving I guess, that crime does pay. Now and then anyway....

End of Part 7

posted on Jun, 7 2008 @ 08:40 PM
Merrilee and I dated a couple more times, but something had gone out of the relationship and things weren’t the same as they once were. She was nice about it, but it didn’t seem like she was really enjoying herself and we pretty much drifted apart.
Not long after, high school came to an end when we all graduated. Merrilee and her sister took off for college and I didn’t see her again for a long time.

Somewhere in here, I met a personable and beautiful young woman and not long after we got married. I got a good job with a good company that promised a good future. We moved away from Ventura and only went back once in a while to visit friends and family.

On one of our visits, my mom handed me a clipping from the paper with Merrilee’s picture in it. It was an engagement announcement. It surprised me, but not too much. The real surprising part was that she was engaged to Bobby Scott. Bobby was ok, but sometimes he was a touch dense around girls and about girls. I wondered if he knew just how lucky he was.

A while after that, I heard that Merrilee and Bobby were getting married at the Mission. An entirely fitting place for a good Catholic girl to get married.

I wasn’t invited, but I went to the wedding anyway. The doors were closed when I got there so I waited on the steps outside. The wedding came to an end, the doors opened, people flooded out of the church and then the bride and groom walked through the doors and into the bright Ventura sunshine. I hadn’t seen Merrilee for over five years and she was more beautiful than ever. She was so caught up in the moment that she never saw me.

People threw rice, smiled and applauded, Bobby helped her into the car and I walked down the steps and out onto the sidewalk for one more look. Bobby got into the car, fired it up and started pulling away slowly.

I was standing a couple of car lengths up the sidewalk when Merrilee saw me. She had a surprised look on her face and then she smiled her beautiful smile. She leaned out of the car a little ways, formed her hand into the shape of a gun, pointed it at me, pulled the make believe trigger, blew the imaginary smoke from the imaginary barrel, waved and blew me a kiss.

I never saw her again....

* * *

Circa: Summer of 1957

Locale: Ventura, California, a nice little coastal town on the SoCal coast just south of Santa Barbara.

Rincon: Spanish for long, narrow valley.

If you’ve ever driven the long stretch of highway where the beach is close to Old Hwy 101 between Santa Barbara and Ventura you’ll recognize many of the landmarks in the story.

County Line Beach is also mentioned in the Beach Boys song Surfin’ USA as Ventura County Line.

A photo of County Line Beach, taken from the frontage road area at the top of Carpinteria Grade.
If it wasn’t so hazy you could see all the way past Ventura which is about 15 miles away.

The surfing area is visible in the photo and the beach proper is just around the corner to the left.
La Conchita, a small beach community near the Ventura-Santa Barbara county line is just beyond what you see in the photo.

Same gun, new barrel, different girl.

[edit on 7-6-2008 by Desert Dawg]

posted on Jun, 28 2008 @ 06:48 PM
I could so relate to your locations, era and experience, minus the crazy woman and the gun. Wow, you kept me with you, I feel like I know you a bit better. Just wow.

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