Road Trip (Part Two)

     We arrive at my work buddies house to retrieve the new guy’s car. This quiet subdivision was being invaded by a pack of musicians, three of which are feeling no pain. I’m talking to my songwriting friend while he’s putting something in his trunk. New guy is getting the beer out of his car’s trunk while talking to my brother.

      Right as my friend is closing his trunk, we hear this commotion of laughing and horsing around that’s getting louder. We turn around in time to be treated to what resembles a wrestling match, or should I say the end of one.

      My brother has new guy in the air over his head before slamming him to the ground. It looked so brutal that my friend said, “Holy Shit, Damian. Your brother just killed that poor guy.”

      My brother is a big guy, he’s not the tallest but he’s a stout dude. We run over to see if this poor bastard is still breathing. He’s lying on the grass motionless, resembling “Cousin It” from the Addams family. His long mane of hair covering his face, while trying to catch his breath and lightly chuckling at the same time.

      Then the porch light cut through the dark sky. It looked like a spotlight shining on new guy’s lifeless body. You guessed it, we woke my work buddy and his wife up. Their faces showed signs of frustration, but to their credit they were calm in their approach to the situation.

      After scraping our new found friend off the ground, he claimed it was his fault for the rough-housing and other than his injured pride he was fine. Then the four of us busted out horse-laughing, much to the chagrin of this innocent married couple.

          They start trying to decipher the madness and motive of this band of hard rock ruffians, that are on a quest of debauchery and fun. They plead to new guy to come inside and sleep it off, hoping that cooler heads would prevail.

      New guy replies, “Yeah, that sounds good. I really should sleep it off.” Right as he heads toward the door conceding to doing the responsible thing. My brother shouts out, “I thought we were going to the city?”

      You could see the air leave this couples posture. As new guy responds, “Fuck yeah. We gotta go to the city. We need more booze!” Of course it was much slower than that because he was tripping over his tongue while slurring words. Then he began walking towards my brother and proceeds to hand him his car keys.

      Now some of you readers might be thinking, “Isn’t this your brothers fault now? I mean it’s probably best that you all go home.” I would agree with you all, but I know why my brother said what he said.

      Simply put, he’s an 18 year old kid who loves to drive. I can see that logic, I mean he’s only got a permit. Not able to come and go as he pleases, hasn’t tasted that sweet freedom yet. Furthermore he wants to tame the city, that’s a lot of pressure on a young man.

      We piled into this luxurious Oldsmobile. Bet you haven’t heard that name in a while, since they ceased to be. It was of the early 90’s four door sedan variety with all the bells and whistles. Comfy car with a history for carting around this constant party. This was it's maiden voyage of what would become normal over the next six months.

      My brother started the car, while new guy handed us a beer. Heading out of town towards the interstate, what adventures lie ahead for these misguided misfits. Tune in next time to find out. Same bat time, same bat channel.  

      To be continued…