Monday, June 26, 2006

Hookwinked, Or: A Very Good Reason to Watch Where You Throw Things

So there we were, cruising along back from the Seaside section of the Oregon Coast. Pat was up front driving, riding shotgun was Matthew Spear. I was behind Matt in the right nut of the middle row, Ian hanging at the left nut, Maggie sitting tight in bitch. In the back row sat Mike directly behind me, Nancy next to him, Ben next to hear. Full house, packed car.

Beach traffic was wicked that day, as many a city-dweller sought the respite of slightly-cooler weather, or at least the quick option of a large, very cold body of water. We were running at what must have been roughly anywhere between 0 and 15 miles an hour in two-lane traffic when Ben declared he had to use the restroom. I suggested he just go by the side of the road, as he could easily catch up with us down the road a ways. He said he’d think it over.

Not long after, the two lanes merged into one, and our real trouble began. A white car tried to pull out to the right from behind us and jump in front, believing somehow that this one-car leap would give him a huge advantage. I was about to turn and yell out my window for them to calm down, when I heard their engine roar. Then I noticed the car, which was white with a black pinstripe running just off-center and featured two speakers placed (not installed) onto the back ledge of the vehicle’s interior, was being driven by two African-American gentlemen who looked in no mood for any sort of nay saying from a white scrawny boy in a Suburban.

I quickly yelled, “they’re from the hood!” as they passed by, but I was too late. The cherry (from a container Maggie had provided) had already left Ian’s hand and miraculously collided with the roof of the car. Given Ian’s position relative to their vehicle, and that the throw was done left-handed, I would have commended him for the toss if not for the nature of its victim. Soon, the man in the driver’s seat threw an unknown object at us. It was around then that everyone became aware of the nature of our adversary, and all of us who were in a position to quickly slid down for fear of being shot.

We road peacefully behind them for a couple of miles, during which they reached around in the back (for a gun?) more times than was comfortable, though we eventually were certain of the presence of a child. After a bit of time, Ben’s bladder could no longer rest and he climbed out the window next to Ian (while the car was moving, mind you…it was quite a sight) and ran to climb over a nearby hill, seeking privacy for his urination. Traffic quickened, and fearing we would leave Ben behind forever, we pulled over at the next convenient place while Matt relieved himself...

...and we waited for Ben to catch up.

As soon as he did, it was back on the road, and into sporadic traffic, but it wasn’t long until we spotted the hoods on the side of the road, standing there doing nothing at all, until we passed and they launched an unknown object towards us. Matt responded with his middle digit while the rest of us ducked like little babies.

Not long after down the road, thinking we lost them long ago, I heard Nancy ask “Is that them behind us?” We looked back and sure enough…black pinstripe. Could they have seen us pull over and done the same simply to rejoin traffic and hunt us down? How had they then gone through all those cars and caught up with us? What was their larger plan? Could all this have really happened over a cherry? So many questions, but with not enough time to answer them as not long after, we saw a police car on the side of the road pulling over an old beater for God knows what. But it wasn’t that one that had our attention, it was the one driving the opposite way down the road who had stopped in the middle of it, allowed us to pass, and then by some insane chance or what can only by described as a miracle…

…they pulled over the black pinstriped car.

To this day (hour) we are uncertain why this took place. Were they simply harassing several cars on the road, or did this run deeper?

There are any number of stories from the beach that day, from the sand crabs to the OSU comeback in the 4th inning to the sunburn we all received to a random middle-aged woman who insisted Ben pick up the only hot girl in a group of three, leaving me and Mike high and dry to the rest of what could only be described as an utterly insane 3-hour drive home, but what will stick in my head above and beyond all of them was our encounter with the hoods, and how certain we were, if only for brief moments, of impending doom.


Ben said...

Scott Nye for MMMGravy MVP. Or MMMVP. Yeah, I said it.

(I project Ian as a solid third round draft pick for the MLB next season.)

Pat said...

The cherry actually did more than merely hit the roof of their car. It sailed through their driverside window. A direct hit. It was tight.

Chuck said...

And to think I missed almost getting shot...

John and Karolyn said...

Haha, sounds like it was fun.

-Karolyn :)