
Originally Posted by
ill-advised strategy
When I moved from Taos to Salt Lake, I had this 78 F250 that was kind of loose, with a chattery clutch and brakes that weren't the best. I used it for 3 trips back and forth with all my stuff, 12 hours each way, on that desert drive with no radio. The first time in Sandy with my old truck, having never lived in the city, I was overwhelmed with driving the old truck on the 85mph freeway and in the stop and go with the chattering clutch and trying to stop when these people jam their brakes...
So I got on ebay motors and found a guy who would trade the F250 for a subaru, in Jackson Mississippi. So on the last of those 24 hour round trips, as I was getting sick from lack of sleep, I went past Taos and kept driving all the way to Mississippi.
I followed mapquest directions to the place, but I got there late at night, and I was a kind of fried that defies a written description. There was a motel across the street, and I could not drive anymore whatsoever, so I went and got a room. It was seedy, Jackson is sketchy (apparently, who knew?). All night there were sirens and gunshots and yelling, I didn't get a lot of sleep.
Next day I go over to this shady used car lot with the subaru and meet this big fat pasty gross southern fuck running the place.
I need to look the car over and he needs to look the truck over, I take the car for a short drive and it immediately overheats. Nice.
So he calls somebody and some sketchy looking hillbillies come and tow the car off, and I spend all day there absorbing life at a ghetto Jackson MS used car lot. The old fat fuck was a lifer in the used car biz, the young fat fuck had just come from finishing law school and had started putting cars on ebay motors, which was relatively new at the time. They were amazed by me, a mountain-town longhair.
Anyway, when the subaru was "done", we took junior's mustang and drove over there. It all looked the same to me, but you'd cross this imaginary line and all of a sudden it was all white people, or another line and all black people...every time we'd get into black people zone this sweating obese fuck would start driving crazy and put his chrome pistol on his lap and lock the doors. I guess he was just itching to shoot somebody, scared to death of black people?
That baby huey guy was really excited that I'd forgotten that I had my 22 rifle behind the seat of the old ford, it was more or less just part of the truck at that point, and I just let him have it with the truck.
That was a weird trip, once I got the subaru I went over to Meridian MS to meet my girlfriend's dad, who was one of the founders of the Flying Burrito Brothers and toured with Willie Nelson for a long time. He had zero money and was sleeping on the couch of his 90 something year old mom's house. His Lincoln towncar was literally on blocks, and he was mostly happy to see me so he could get a ride to take his royalty checks to the casino and the liquor store. Almost unfathomably, he did the same thing as that fat fuck....scrambling to have a pistol ready and doors locked every time we crossed the stupid imaginary line into somewhere with black people. I felt like an alien in those places. No sleep, running a fever, strange things going on at every turn, guns and paranoia.
Subaru broke down in Shreveport, and I spent a week there absorbing life at a dealership in Shreveport...thank God there was a service writer there from Grand Rapids Michigan who made a special case of getting my car going so I could GTFO and on my way to a new life in Utah.
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