God I hate Geocities. When I made a new html file and called it "dylweed2.html" for some reason it thought that I wanted to change "dylweed1.html" so the first four chapters are gone. I have to write them all over again, I am very annoyed.
****************************************************************

The Adventures of Bobby Dylweed Part V: Big Joe and Phantom 309

"Puddin'?"
Bobby got up from the sheets. It was daybreak. He could barely remember the night before, except that it was the best night of his life.
"Puddin' n Tain! Where are you?" he called. There was no answer.
"C'mon girl! Where you hiding?" Bobby searched the closet and the bathroom. He saw neither hide nor hair of Puddin' n Tain. Bobby was starting to get worried. Did she go for a walk? Was she getting breakfast for us? Bobby figured that she had to leave for some reason but didn't want to wake him up. He got dressed and went to the bathroom. As Bobby put on his shaving cream he saw one of those stick-on notes on the mirror. Somehow, he had missed seeing it before.

I'm SO sorry Bobby, but I just had to do it. I'm sure you understand. Now, I really like you and I had a great time last night, but I've got to look out for #1. Good luck and best wishes, sweetheart. Puddin' n Tain.

Bobby freaked as he read the note. He ran out and checked the pockets of his coat. Sure enough, his wallet was empty. EMPTY! All of Bobby's hard earned money was gone. The hours he spent on the street corners singing until his throat was sore, playing his guitar until his fingers became blistered and callous, and playing his harmonica until his lips were chapped and bleeding, in the hopes that some kind passerby by give him a nickle or a dime, were all for nought.
"That no-good WHORE!" Bobby screamed, "HOW COULD SHE DO THIS TO ME! SHE PRETENDED TO BE MY FRIEND BUT SHE PLAYED ME FOR A FOOL!!! I WILL NEVER TRUST ANYONE AGAIN! NOW WHAT AM I GOING TO DO???? GOD HOW COULD I BE SO STUPID!!!! I AM SUCH A STUPID, NAIVE, IDIOT!!!!!!!!"
Someone knocked on the wall from one of the adjoining rooms and said, "You got that right, Einstein! Now will you just SHUT UP!"
Bobby was embarassed. After he finished shaving and took a shower, he gathered up his guitar, ("Thank God, Puddin' didn't try to pawn off this!" he thought.) and his one suitcase, which fortunately, did not contain any valuables. Bobby went down to the office and checked out. The manager told Bobby to smile and have a good day. It took all of Bobby's willpower to keep from punching him in the nose. He did tell the manager what happened the night before.
"Oh my! Are you going to call the police?" he asked.
"Nah. I don't even know her name. She just goes by 'Puddin' n Tain'. She rides a motorcycle, but I don't know the license number. Besides, I just want to get out of here. I need to get to New York, to see Morning Woody Guthrie. He said it was urgent!" Bobby answered.
"Wow. You have a ways to go. Right now you are in Arizona. Many of the truckers here are willing to pick up hitchhikers. There are also a few YMCAs that might let you stay for free, if you help clean the place and stuff. Hey, you must be hungry. Have a donut and some coffee!" Bobby thanked the man and grabbed a chocolate donut and poured some coffee in a styrofoam cup. Bobby liked his coffee strong and he liked it black.
There really wasn't much else Bobby could do except walk down the highway with his suitcase in his hand. He walked for a ways feeling very sorry for himself. The weather was hot as fire. Remember Bobby Dylweed was a Minnesota boy, and not used to over 100 degree temperatures.
"I'm gonna die!" He limped to ground and took off his shirt. He fanned himself with his hat, but he was still sweatty all over. Cars came and went. Once in a while he would see some kid through a window pointing at him and laughing.
After about six hours had passed, a big rig stopped in front of Bobby. The door opened and a voice called out, "Hey, don't you know you could get a bad sunburn doing that?!" Bobby bounded inside. The driver seemed like a kindly, somewhat portly man in his fourties. As they drove off, Bobby stuck his head out of the window and felt the wind blowing on his face and hair. It felt like a slice of heaven, after the six hours of hell sitting by the highway.
"Hey son, where you headed? Son? Hey!" the driver had to tap Bobby on the shoulder to make him take his head out of the window.
"Oh hi! My name is Bobby Dylweed. I'm going to New York City. I'm going to meet Morning Woody Guthrie there. He sent me a telegram; he said it was really important."
"Call me Big Joe. My rig is called Phantom 309. I'm only going as far as Houston, Texas."
"That's fine! I can use all the help I can get! I'm sorry, but right now I'm penniless. See, I met this girl in Vegas, and she said she would drive me to New York. Well we spent the night at a motel, and the next morning she and all my money was gone. Now how do you like that?"
"I'm sorry that happened to you Bobby. Life stinks sometimes. But you can't lose faith. For every bad person in the world, there are 100 good ones. You'll learn who to trust as you get older and wiser. Just hang in there, boy."
Bobby and Big Joe talked for a while as they drove on Highway 61. Bobby told about how he wanted to be a famous folksinger and help people by creating awareness of problems in the world. Bobby wanted to end war, racism, sexism, and poverty. Big Joe was impressed.
"God's love is showered to those with hearts as big as yours. You will make your dreams come true, I just know it!" Big Joe gushed.
Bobby felt a newfound encouragement. "Why do you call your truck Phantom 309?" he asked.
"Oh" Big Joe answered, "Nobody sees anything but taillights from Phantom 309". They drove on for a ways in silence. Bobby asked if he could turn on the radio. Big Joe said yes, and Bobby turned it to the country station. "I Go Walking After Midnight" by Patsy Cline was on. It started to get dark. Bobby got sleepy and started to snooze.
Bobby woke up the next morning with a bad crick in his neck. They were still on the road and were now in New Mexico. "Big Joe? Did you just pull an all-nighter?"
"Yup. Amphetemine pills. They'll keep you up for days." Big Joe stopped at various diners and gas stations to get Bobby something to eat and let him go to the bathroom. Curiously, Big Joe himself didn't need to do those things. His rig never seemed to need any gas either.
They traveled like this for a few days until they got to Houston, Texas. "This is where you get off, Bobby. I have to make a turn up ahead. Here," Big Joe gave Bobby a dollar. "this should get you by for a bit. Good luck Bobby, and God bless you." After Bobby thanked Big Joe emensely for his kindess, he got out of the truck. When Bobby turned around to wave good-bye to Big Joe and Phantom 309, they were already out of sight.
It was twillight. There was a trucker diner, a little bit down the road. As Bobby walked to it, he thought to himself "Well, you lose some and you win some. That Big Joe guy sure was nice. I wonder if there is anyway I could repay him someday." Bobby had a bad sunburn from when he was thumbing a ride, and it was starting to really hurt. "Jeez, it sometimes would get a bit sunny at home, but nothing like THIS." he thought.
Bobby reached the diner and went inside. He walked up to the counter and gave the waitress a dollar. He asked for a cup of coffee and a slice of apple pie ala mode. "I hitched a ride from this guy named Big Joe and his truck was called Phantom 309." Bobby added. Everything stopped. The place turned deathly quiet.
A man at a table asked with astonishment "You don't mean THE Big Joe and Phantom 309? Do you? That's impossible!" All the other patrons looked absolutely shocked.
Bobby felt uneasy. "Did I say something wrong? Err. . ." TO BE CONTINUED

Back to the main page

This page hosted by Get your own Free Home Page