While I was driving to college in my second year, I was near the Florida/Georgia border. I stopped at a large gas station, one of those mega stations called Elephant. I knew it was going to be a long lonely drive because I had made four trips home to Sarsota before, and didn’t stop for the night, in order to save motel money. I drove each time straight from Fl to Virginia.
I was using my First Federal Master Card to pay at the pump when a light haired boy about my size, maybe a little smaller, said, “Sir I see you have Virginia tags, are you driving to Virginia?”
“Yes Roan Mountain College near Bristol.”
“That’s close to where I’m going, would it be possible to ride with you. I’ve got some money I would buy some of the gas?”
His clothes were work garments, very worn, and farmer looking duds. He did look clean and I was rather close to him and he didn’t smell. I didn’t say anything quickly and he said, “I’ve got 40 dollars, and if later in the trip you think you need more, I’ll eat less. I’ve asked 4 people so far and no one would take me.”
“I’ll take you.” I said, “go ahead and give me the money. It will help me pay my credit card bill next month.”
He pulled out a very worn, greesy billfold and paid me. I drove about ten miles before he said, “You really saved me. The last man I asked for a ride was only going to Atlanta. The manager heard me inside the station and said, ‘No panhandling or I’ll get the sheriff out here. Well I saw your car as I was about to leave. It’s so lonely out here. I would have never gotten a thumb ride.”
“How did you get stuck in that Elephant Station?”
“I got a ride that was headed for Ashville N.C., well that isn’t far from where I’m going.
So this guy starts out, ‘You dress like a boy, but you look like a girl.” Well he played around with that theme all sorts of ways. Then he explained in detail about how he liked to have sex with young boys. I told him, ‘I’m almost 19′ and he said, ‘Good I like to poke ass that’s legal.’
I tried to say nothing and hoped to keep riding in his car, but he started telling me about being in high school. He said, ‘I never really liked girls.’ Then he named and explained the physical attributes of each boy he had conquered while in North Marion High School.
‘All of them like you’, he said, ‘looked like girls, smelled like females, but were boys. They had small tiny little peckers and balls, but they were males.
What size equipment do you have sweetie’ he said and put his hand off the steering wheel and over toward me.
I moved as far from him as I could and all he touched was my arm.
‘Shy I guess, never been mauled by a real man honey?’
That’s when I said, ‘I’m not a boy at all sir, I’m a girl.’
‘Your a damn liar.’
Well he pulled off the road across from that station and grabbed my shirt, I fought not to get my shirt torn. It’s the only shirt I have and then on the side of the road, with cars flying by, he grabbed my pants and this was a big guy, ‘I’m never wrong about the sex of something’. He shouted at me. He was an ape, really slobbering on me. I’d say he weighed three or four times what I weigh, 114.
He got my belt open and my pants unzipped and put his head down to look. He thought I was giving in then, but I was angry and I balled up my fist the way I busted my walls at home, when my parents were disappointed about my grades, or that I refused to join their sorry Church of Holy Saints, or stay at home. I socked walls all my teenage years. I fractured my hand several times, and it grew stronger, grew back broken. My parents didn’t believe in doctors.
I guess I’m still a teenager until this year and next.
So I punched him right between the eyes. Well I meant it to be a serious sock, a real bang. At first I thought, ‘He’s out like a screwy light’ But then he didn’t look like he was breathing and so he wasn’t going to even need his wallet or money anymore, so I took it with me.
You’ve got 40 dollars of his greenbacks. His ring wouldn’t budge off his fat finger. I left his ID on him, and took his money, wallet, and stash of Hershey bars. I was really hungry.
I’ve been riding around East Tennessee, West Virginia, Virginia, Florida and Georgia since I was twelve and had to smack lots of them, but this is the first one that died. I once broke a jaw.
Usually I can ride trucks for days and days and hear lots of dirty talk, but rarely get assaulted. Now if I dressed as a girl with a pretty skirt and panties, well I would get more time in roadside motels than on the road. Most truckers just talk to boys.”
The author can be contacted at: rcates2@cox.net or 121 NE 13th Ave. Ocala, Florida 34470 fax at: 1-352-629-1573
Another story by Ray Cates is at http://unsightlyteeth.wordpress.com And at the end of that story is a list of other stories by the same author. Your comments are appreciated.
