Post by khardaway on Nov 26, 2009 16:22:50 GMT -5
OOC: Pardon myself for all the Supernatural references. That show rocks.
Welcome to hell...population: one Mr. Kevin Hardaway. Like he didn’t need to go through everything at the rehabilitation center a mile or two back, but in other news, problems are going afloat at the old Hardaway household, or at whatever hotel they’re staying at. Freakin’ arguments...she had no right to say whatever was said. If she didn’t want to go, she didn’t have to go, but now suddenly he’s the one to blame for all of this. What was supposed to be a friendly encounter and a friendly visit turned into Bitchfest ‘09. As soon as he told her to wait in the car, her intuition kicked into high gear, she must’ve gotten her period and she drove off in their Chevrolet Cobalt.
So now, an angry text later, and Kevin is walking back the 20 miles to their hotel where they’re staying at. Angie is probably back there now, tending to Kimberly and talking shit about me to her friend Hayley. It’s the classic “eat cookies and ice cream and talk about your feelings” type of cliched feeling going on. So what? Really...so what? The only problem about that is if whether or not he wants to go back to walk through the impending shitstorm that will happen? If he didn’t have a problem, he’d probably hitchhike back.
Oh why the hell not? It’s dangerous, but he knows who to trust. Out goes the thumb. And cars whiz on past him like they think he’s a homicidal maniac. Good point. Seems to not be working though. It was worth a try. Until, something catches his eye. Still sticking his thumb out, the car ends up stopping and pulling over. A smile catches Kevin’s face as he walks over and takes a look at the car carefully. A 1967 Chevrolet Impala, no top down hood, leather interior...the baby looked brand new.
He walked over to the window and reared his head down to reveal the driver.
“Need a lift, sir?”
Disappointed. He was kind of hoping that Dean Winchester was sitting in the driver’s seat. Now THAT would’ve been cool. Ok, how many people got that reference?
“Yeah, I need a lift back to town. I can trust a guy like you, right?”
“Don’t worry, I’m not driving you to some god awful town where they feed on cannibalistic rituals or anything like that.”
Kevin laughs nervously. Yeah, still freaked out. Hitchhiking is dangerous business.
“I see what you mean, sir.”
“But yeah...I’m driving into town actually, so I can give you a lift. Hop in.”
“Cool, thank you so much sir.”
He opens the door and hops right on in, already comfortable from the AC and the seating. Really is a nice as hell car, believe you me. And away we go, sounds of Lynyrd Skynyrd blasting through the speakers. Nothing like a little “Free Bird” to get you through the day. Of course, it could just be a bad omen on things to come. The song is about a guy leaving his girl because he’s independent, that or the simple fact that he’s dead and that he wants the girl to not worry about him the slightest bit because he’s in a better place. Either way, as amazing, as awesome the song is, it’s a frightening foreshadow. So frightening that he immediately turns it off. The driver, a 50-ish year old man is not angry that he turned off the mecca of epic songs, but he does ask anyway.
“Problem there with that song?”
“No...no problem at all. Can’t deny a classic...it’s just that at the moment I’m in right now, I can’t hear it. Gets me a little freaked, you know.”
“Well...what’s the problem, kid?”
He’s kidding right. Like he’s going to tell what’s going on to a complete stranger. A complete stranger with a fantastic car.
“I don’t know. I mean, I just met you. Don’t you think it’s wrong talking to a stranger about life’s issues?”
“Yeah, it is. But believe me, kid. I have a wife at home and two kids who are just about ready to go to college. I know all about life’s issues.”
Still unsure.
Really unsure.
“Come on, what’s on your mind?”
Ok, well here goes...
“I’m married and I have a kid. Well, my problem is that I feel like I’m the one that does all the work. I mean, I know my wife has a job and everything, but it feels that even though I’m traveling 200 days a year, I still have to do everything and that includes raising my daughter.”
“How old is your daughter?”
“She actually turns one in a few days time.”
“Well that’s sweet.”
“Yeah, she’s amazing.”
“Ok, so your wife now....ummm...need a name, kid.”
He chuckles at Kevin. Not a problem, sir.
“Angelina. Her name is Angelina.”
It’s been a pretty long time since he referred her as her full first name. She hated the name Angelina, but she seems fine with Angie, or as Kevin likes to call her...”Ani”. Now he hates the name “Ani”...but of course she doesn’t know that secret.
“But yeah...Angie, she’s an amazing girl as well. Complete sweetheart to anybody she comes across, but that’s about it. Just lately, she’s been on edge and she’s been a complete pain. Then again, it helps that she’s pregnant with our second child.”
“You know, that could be the problem.”
“I was thinking the same thing too, but not like this. I know her too well, she wasn’t like this when she was pregnant with Kimberly.”
“Kimberly?”
“Oh...I’m sorry, that’s our daughter’s name.”
Total lack of judgment there on Kevin’s behalf. No problem at all. It happens.
“Pregnancies are usually different, no matter what’s in there. Maybe she’s just going through a rough time, that’s all. You two have a kid, she’s trying to deal with more responsibilities, that’s all. You shouldn’t worry about a thing.”
“I know I shouldn’t, but I feel like something is worse. I mean, she never drove off and abandoned me before...never in my life.”
The old man driver gets befuddled at what Kevin just said.
“She drove off on you?”
“Yeah. I had to visit a friend of mine in rehab. She wasn’t too keen on the idea of visiting...of course she tells me this when we get to the rehabilitation center, so it wasn’t like I could just turn around in an instant. It’s a good 30 miles from the hotel to the center. I had a appointment schedule, I couldn’t ruin that. So we end up having another fight, I tell her that she can wait in the car, and she does...for about 5 seconds. That’s when I heard the screeching of the tires.”
“It happens, right?”
“Nope. I understood what she was doing, so once I was done visiting my friend, I called her back and left her a message saying to come pick me up. 5 minutes later, she texts me back saying the following, and I quote her...
“Walk back to the hotel, Kevin. It’s not far.”
A wide-eyed stare across the old man driver is now seen when Kevin stares at him. Ok, it sounds like that’s a new one for him. Even at 50-ish, he’s pretty sure he hears new things that even make him wonder how society has played out over the years. Not so kind, old man driver...not so freakin’ kind at all.
“Yeah...that’s a new one, kid. My wife or any of my girlfriends didn't do that to me when I was a young lad.”
“Well, hate to say it, but welcome to 2009.”
“Hey, not a problem with that. Although it’s hard to let things go. I’ve had this bad boy for about 15 years now.”
Think he’s talking about the car, but it’s still a little uncertain.
“The car, right?”
“Oh yeah...the car. It was one of those “mid-life crisis” things that all the old people go through. Me being 55 now, this baby has brought me some good memories before. But time is coming rapidly fast and I need to make some changes. My wife wants me to take her to Italy on a vacation...just the two of us. With the kids off to college, it’s a dream of mine. Of course, I don’t have the money. So I’m doing something that even I don’t want to do...sell this car.”
Not to sound like a cheap douche, but...he just heard a lightbulb click on.
“You’re selling this car?”
“Sadly, yes. I figure with the money I’m offering for this, it’ll be enough for that trip to Italy. My wife has been wanting to go for years and so have I. I just never thought I would be resorting to selling one of my prides and joy.”
“Well, we all have to make sacrifices, you know.”
“That is true.”
He didn’t want to ask away what the selling price he was going for immediately. Old man driver was still talking about his history with the car. But it seemed like he was done with the stories, so Kevin asked away. He just had to.
“What are you offering for this car anyways, sir?”
“See that you like this car, huh?”
“Actually...I love it.”
“Well, I’ll tell you what, kid. Since you seem like a nice fellow and you were willing to trust me to take you into town, I’ll offer you this car for...let’s say...9-5.”
$9,500 for those of you who don’t understand the lingo for money, or cars, or whatever. But that was a great price, for a 15 year old car that looked like it was only 3 years old. Come on, you would take it, would you? Thought so.
“Now that’s a hell of a price. You know...I’ll take it.”
“Really now? That's quick thinking?”
“You just can’t beat a price like that on something based off of coincidental luck dawning upon me.”
“Good point, sir.”
“Anyways, if you want, I’ll drive you back to my place, give me the necessary papers, i'll give you the money, the whole works, how about that?”
“Sounds fantastic to me.”
“Alright, let me text Angie. To see if she’s ok with it.”
He pulls out his cell phone and slides it open, showing off the keyboard, sliding his finger down to the contact “Angie”. Like before, her picture, and number are there. He pushes “Text” and writes down the message beforehand. She probably won’t read it, she probably won’t care, she’s still probably pissed off beyond all belief, but to give it another shot.
“Hey...will be back a little later than expected. Got something that you may enjoy, a hell of a deal on a car. How? A guy that gave me a ride was selling off his car. 1967 Chevy Impala. Just like the one our favorite brothers drive on TV. Be back soon, love you. Kev.”
And send...and off to old man driver’s home in the countryside.
And from that point forward, we’re just going to fast forward or pass about a good 30 minutes. Nobody needs to see Kevin filling out paperwork, writing a check for a $9,500 car, and all of that jazz. It’s boring, admit it? Yeah, I thought so. But we’ll cut to Kevin in the driver’s seat now, getting his registration for the vehicle and putting it in the glove box as the owner, the old man driver leans up against the window...enjoying his final moments with a car he has had for the past decade and a half.
It’s sentimental in some kind of weird odd fashion. Don’t take his word for it.
“Man, I had some great memories with this boy. Take good care of it, will you?”
“Absolutely.”
“Don’t forget the advice I gave to you as well. I’ve seen stuff happen like that. You two care about each other enough for you to tell her to calm down.”
“I won’t forget.”
Hey, he needs to give the old man a handshake. One that he accepts with great honor and dignity.
“Thank you very much...not just for the ride, but for the car, and...well, everything else.”
“Hey, no problem kid. You take care, ok?”
“You too, sir.”
Kevin starts up the engine, as the Impala purrs like a beastly tiger, a great sound if you ever heard one, as he reverses out of the old man’s driveway...until. You know...he never got a name. It would be nice to know what his name was...I mean, he could just look at the papers, but he thought...you only live once. Driving back up, he honks the horn and the old man turns to face the car as he pops his head out of the window.
“You know...I never got your name.”
The old man offers up a laugh, and decides to tell him anyway.
“The name’s John...”
You don’t think...tell me this isn’t the weirdest coincidence in the world...
“Jonathan Browning.”
Ok...phew on his behalf there.
“Browning...like the machine gun?”
“Just like the machine gun.”
Browning influenced nearly all categories of firearms design. He invented or made significant improvements to single-shot rifles, lever action rifles, and slide action firearms. His most significant contributions were in the area of autoloading firearms. He developed the autoloading pistol by inventing the slide design found on nearly every modern automatic handgun. He also developed the first gas-operated machine gun, the Colt-Browning Model 1895—a system that would surpass recoil operation in popularity. Other successful designs include the M1911 pistol, the Browning .50 caliber machine gun, the Browning Automatic Rifle, and a ground-breaking semi-automatic shotgun, the Browning Auto-5.
Ironically...the person who invented the work. His name was John Browning. This old man driver was a different Browning though. He just had the name by choice, he wasn’t related to the family whatsoever.
History lesson aside, Kevin drove back to the hotel, surely enough about ready to face whatever was coming to him, but in a new light. Who knew a complete stranger would help him out? Either way, he turns on the radio and there again...it’s that sign. “Free Bird” is playing. Odd that he only heard it an hour ago. He checked the cassette tape deck and sure enough...nothing. But Kevin didn’t turn it off this time out, he kept it on. Not because of the lyrics, but because nobody can resist yelling out the two sweetest words in the English language...FREE BIRD!
Second history lesson aside, he finally got back to the hotel and parked his new toy besides their current car, the Cobalt. Getting out, he turns around to marvel at the new wonder. A whistle later and he’s twirling his keys toward their hotel room, he turns the doorknob. Locked...figured that much. Oh well. He puts the key inside and opens the door.
Nobody there. Hmm...some peace and quiet perhaps. Nothing wrong with that. Until...
*SLAP*
To be continued.
So now, an angry text later, and Kevin is walking back the 20 miles to their hotel where they’re staying at. Angie is probably back there now, tending to Kimberly and talking shit about me to her friend Hayley. It’s the classic “eat cookies and ice cream and talk about your feelings” type of cliched feeling going on. So what? Really...so what? The only problem about that is if whether or not he wants to go back to walk through the impending shitstorm that will happen? If he didn’t have a problem, he’d probably hitchhike back.
Oh why the hell not? It’s dangerous, but he knows who to trust. Out goes the thumb. And cars whiz on past him like they think he’s a homicidal maniac. Good point. Seems to not be working though. It was worth a try. Until, something catches his eye. Still sticking his thumb out, the car ends up stopping and pulling over. A smile catches Kevin’s face as he walks over and takes a look at the car carefully. A 1967 Chevrolet Impala, no top down hood, leather interior...the baby looked brand new.
He walked over to the window and reared his head down to reveal the driver.
“Need a lift, sir?”
Disappointed. He was kind of hoping that Dean Winchester was sitting in the driver’s seat. Now THAT would’ve been cool. Ok, how many people got that reference?
“Yeah, I need a lift back to town. I can trust a guy like you, right?”
“Don’t worry, I’m not driving you to some god awful town where they feed on cannibalistic rituals or anything like that.”
Kevin laughs nervously. Yeah, still freaked out. Hitchhiking is dangerous business.
“I see what you mean, sir.”
“But yeah...I’m driving into town actually, so I can give you a lift. Hop in.”
“Cool, thank you so much sir.”
He opens the door and hops right on in, already comfortable from the AC and the seating. Really is a nice as hell car, believe you me. And away we go, sounds of Lynyrd Skynyrd blasting through the speakers. Nothing like a little “Free Bird” to get you through the day. Of course, it could just be a bad omen on things to come. The song is about a guy leaving his girl because he’s independent, that or the simple fact that he’s dead and that he wants the girl to not worry about him the slightest bit because he’s in a better place. Either way, as amazing, as awesome the song is, it’s a frightening foreshadow. So frightening that he immediately turns it off. The driver, a 50-ish year old man is not angry that he turned off the mecca of epic songs, but he does ask anyway.
“Problem there with that song?”
“No...no problem at all. Can’t deny a classic...it’s just that at the moment I’m in right now, I can’t hear it. Gets me a little freaked, you know.”
“Well...what’s the problem, kid?”
He’s kidding right. Like he’s going to tell what’s going on to a complete stranger. A complete stranger with a fantastic car.
“I don’t know. I mean, I just met you. Don’t you think it’s wrong talking to a stranger about life’s issues?”
“Yeah, it is. But believe me, kid. I have a wife at home and two kids who are just about ready to go to college. I know all about life’s issues.”
Still unsure.
Really unsure.
“Come on, what’s on your mind?”
Ok, well here goes...
“I’m married and I have a kid. Well, my problem is that I feel like I’m the one that does all the work. I mean, I know my wife has a job and everything, but it feels that even though I’m traveling 200 days a year, I still have to do everything and that includes raising my daughter.”
“How old is your daughter?”
“She actually turns one in a few days time.”
“Well that’s sweet.”
“Yeah, she’s amazing.”
“Ok, so your wife now....ummm...need a name, kid.”
He chuckles at Kevin. Not a problem, sir.
“Angelina. Her name is Angelina.”
It’s been a pretty long time since he referred her as her full first name. She hated the name Angelina, but she seems fine with Angie, or as Kevin likes to call her...”Ani”. Now he hates the name “Ani”...but of course she doesn’t know that secret.
“But yeah...Angie, she’s an amazing girl as well. Complete sweetheart to anybody she comes across, but that’s about it. Just lately, she’s been on edge and she’s been a complete pain. Then again, it helps that she’s pregnant with our second child.”
“You know, that could be the problem.”
“I was thinking the same thing too, but not like this. I know her too well, she wasn’t like this when she was pregnant with Kimberly.”
“Kimberly?”
“Oh...I’m sorry, that’s our daughter’s name.”
Total lack of judgment there on Kevin’s behalf. No problem at all. It happens.
“Pregnancies are usually different, no matter what’s in there. Maybe she’s just going through a rough time, that’s all. You two have a kid, she’s trying to deal with more responsibilities, that’s all. You shouldn’t worry about a thing.”
“I know I shouldn’t, but I feel like something is worse. I mean, she never drove off and abandoned me before...never in my life.”
The old man driver gets befuddled at what Kevin just said.
“She drove off on you?”
“Yeah. I had to visit a friend of mine in rehab. She wasn’t too keen on the idea of visiting...of course she tells me this when we get to the rehabilitation center, so it wasn’t like I could just turn around in an instant. It’s a good 30 miles from the hotel to the center. I had a appointment schedule, I couldn’t ruin that. So we end up having another fight, I tell her that she can wait in the car, and she does...for about 5 seconds. That’s when I heard the screeching of the tires.”
“It happens, right?”
“Nope. I understood what she was doing, so once I was done visiting my friend, I called her back and left her a message saying to come pick me up. 5 minutes later, she texts me back saying the following, and I quote her...
“Walk back to the hotel, Kevin. It’s not far.”
A wide-eyed stare across the old man driver is now seen when Kevin stares at him. Ok, it sounds like that’s a new one for him. Even at 50-ish, he’s pretty sure he hears new things that even make him wonder how society has played out over the years. Not so kind, old man driver...not so freakin’ kind at all.
“Yeah...that’s a new one, kid. My wife or any of my girlfriends didn't do that to me when I was a young lad.”
“Well, hate to say it, but welcome to 2009.”
“Hey, not a problem with that. Although it’s hard to let things go. I’ve had this bad boy for about 15 years now.”
Think he’s talking about the car, but it’s still a little uncertain.
“The car, right?”
“Oh yeah...the car. It was one of those “mid-life crisis” things that all the old people go through. Me being 55 now, this baby has brought me some good memories before. But time is coming rapidly fast and I need to make some changes. My wife wants me to take her to Italy on a vacation...just the two of us. With the kids off to college, it’s a dream of mine. Of course, I don’t have the money. So I’m doing something that even I don’t want to do...sell this car.”
Not to sound like a cheap douche, but...he just heard a lightbulb click on.
“You’re selling this car?”
“Sadly, yes. I figure with the money I’m offering for this, it’ll be enough for that trip to Italy. My wife has been wanting to go for years and so have I. I just never thought I would be resorting to selling one of my prides and joy.”
“Well, we all have to make sacrifices, you know.”
“That is true.”
He didn’t want to ask away what the selling price he was going for immediately. Old man driver was still talking about his history with the car. But it seemed like he was done with the stories, so Kevin asked away. He just had to.
“What are you offering for this car anyways, sir?”
“See that you like this car, huh?”
“Actually...I love it.”
“Well, I’ll tell you what, kid. Since you seem like a nice fellow and you were willing to trust me to take you into town, I’ll offer you this car for...let’s say...9-5.”
$9,500 for those of you who don’t understand the lingo for money, or cars, or whatever. But that was a great price, for a 15 year old car that looked like it was only 3 years old. Come on, you would take it, would you? Thought so.
“Now that’s a hell of a price. You know...I’ll take it.”
“Really now? That's quick thinking?”
“You just can’t beat a price like that on something based off of coincidental luck dawning upon me.”
“Good point, sir.”
“Anyways, if you want, I’ll drive you back to my place, give me the necessary papers, i'll give you the money, the whole works, how about that?”
“Sounds fantastic to me.”
“Alright, let me text Angie. To see if she’s ok with it.”
He pulls out his cell phone and slides it open, showing off the keyboard, sliding his finger down to the contact “Angie”. Like before, her picture, and number are there. He pushes “Text” and writes down the message beforehand. She probably won’t read it, she probably won’t care, she’s still probably pissed off beyond all belief, but to give it another shot.
“Hey...will be back a little later than expected. Got something that you may enjoy, a hell of a deal on a car. How? A guy that gave me a ride was selling off his car. 1967 Chevy Impala. Just like the one our favorite brothers drive on TV. Be back soon, love you. Kev.”
And send...and off to old man driver’s home in the countryside.
And from that point forward, we’re just going to fast forward or pass about a good 30 minutes. Nobody needs to see Kevin filling out paperwork, writing a check for a $9,500 car, and all of that jazz. It’s boring, admit it? Yeah, I thought so. But we’ll cut to Kevin in the driver’s seat now, getting his registration for the vehicle and putting it in the glove box as the owner, the old man driver leans up against the window...enjoying his final moments with a car he has had for the past decade and a half.
It’s sentimental in some kind of weird odd fashion. Don’t take his word for it.
“Man, I had some great memories with this boy. Take good care of it, will you?”
“Absolutely.”
“Don’t forget the advice I gave to you as well. I’ve seen stuff happen like that. You two care about each other enough for you to tell her to calm down.”
“I won’t forget.”
Hey, he needs to give the old man a handshake. One that he accepts with great honor and dignity.
“Thank you very much...not just for the ride, but for the car, and...well, everything else.”
“Hey, no problem kid. You take care, ok?”
“You too, sir.”
Kevin starts up the engine, as the Impala purrs like a beastly tiger, a great sound if you ever heard one, as he reverses out of the old man’s driveway...until. You know...he never got a name. It would be nice to know what his name was...I mean, he could just look at the papers, but he thought...you only live once. Driving back up, he honks the horn and the old man turns to face the car as he pops his head out of the window.
“You know...I never got your name.”
The old man offers up a laugh, and decides to tell him anyway.
“The name’s John...”
You don’t think...tell me this isn’t the weirdest coincidence in the world...
“Jonathan Browning.”
Ok...phew on his behalf there.
“Browning...like the machine gun?”
“Just like the machine gun.”
Browning influenced nearly all categories of firearms design. He invented or made significant improvements to single-shot rifles, lever action rifles, and slide action firearms. His most significant contributions were in the area of autoloading firearms. He developed the autoloading pistol by inventing the slide design found on nearly every modern automatic handgun. He also developed the first gas-operated machine gun, the Colt-Browning Model 1895—a system that would surpass recoil operation in popularity. Other successful designs include the M1911 pistol, the Browning .50 caliber machine gun, the Browning Automatic Rifle, and a ground-breaking semi-automatic shotgun, the Browning Auto-5.
Ironically...the person who invented the work. His name was John Browning. This old man driver was a different Browning though. He just had the name by choice, he wasn’t related to the family whatsoever.
History lesson aside, Kevin drove back to the hotel, surely enough about ready to face whatever was coming to him, but in a new light. Who knew a complete stranger would help him out? Either way, he turns on the radio and there again...it’s that sign. “Free Bird” is playing. Odd that he only heard it an hour ago. He checked the cassette tape deck and sure enough...nothing. But Kevin didn’t turn it off this time out, he kept it on. Not because of the lyrics, but because nobody can resist yelling out the two sweetest words in the English language...FREE BIRD!
Second history lesson aside, he finally got back to the hotel and parked his new toy besides their current car, the Cobalt. Getting out, he turns around to marvel at the new wonder. A whistle later and he’s twirling his keys toward their hotel room, he turns the doorknob. Locked...figured that much. Oh well. He puts the key inside and opens the door.
Nobody there. Hmm...some peace and quiet perhaps. Nothing wrong with that. Until...
*SLAP*
To be continued.
