by Tom Nelson
Growing up in this environment has made the boys mature early, of course, and they love to drink and gamble among each other and carouse with the local girls who are easily corrupted. Tommy returns now and again to Aiken County to spend a weekend with the woman he met during his trip to jail—the girl who asked him for a cigarette. They keep in touch. She is obviously a prostitute, Tommy understands, but money is never discussed among them, nor exchanged. Tommy’s kindness and generosity in jail really touched her, and she thoroughly enjoys his innocence!
1977
A year after completing driving school with Jerry, Tommy and Kent, one of the other runaways at Jack’s farm, are out driving. You see a look of determination on Kent’s face as he drives the big Plymouth down an old, dark country road. He looks to the side briefly as he passes a sign that says: Welcome to Alabama!
Tommy follows a little under half a mile behind in the Charger R/T. Tommy isn’t loaded down with whiskey or other stolen items this evening. He is running blocker, which means it’s his job to get in the cops’ way, if they try to stop Kent in the delivery car. Both cars—the Dodge Charger and the Plymouth GTX—are built to haul ass, but they are no match against the highway patrol and sheriffs who drive Ford Police Interceptors, built to catch anything! No matter what though, the delivery car has to get through. After all, it contains all the valuables and evidence!
It’s a quiet evening. The night is dark, except for the light of the moon, which periodically ducks behind clouds. The headlights from the cars illuminate the road ahead. As they get about five miles into Alabama, Tommy sees a glimmer off to the left side of the road. The moonlight is bouncing off the chrome of the Ford that is parked off the highway, tucked down a tiny dirt road. Tommy can see the Alabama Highway Patrol vehicle pull onto the road in front of him and begin following the car that Kent is driving. There is about a quarter mile between each of the three vehicles.
Fuck! Tommy thinks. This is only the second time in a year that the boys have encountered cops out on a run. They have been extremely lucky. Until tonight.
He knows what to do if the cops actually pull Kent over. And, no sooner than the thought crosses his mind, blue lights suddenly appear, flashing atop the highway patrol vehicle following Kent. The other boy is carrying a carload of fine Tennessee bourbon that has been lifted off the back dock of a local distillery. Three pallets of booze were conveniently left out on the back dock one evening, and the boys drove up to carry it home. Now, they are distributing it to Jack’s clients in the nightclub and entertainment industry in Birmingham. The flashing lights seem surreal in the darkness. Tommy knows what Kent’s next move will be and, of course, what is expected of him as blocker. He feels as though he is dreaming, but knows he isn’t. In fact, Tommy is wide awake and gripping the wheel of the car like someone he is trying to strangle. His palms begin to feel clammy and damp.
FUCK! Tommy’s inner voice screams this time. His heart feels like it is beating a thousand times per minute!
Tommy sees the red brake lights of the big Plymouth as Kent begins to slow down. He turns on his right turn signal. The red brake lights of the Ford driven by the highway patrol officer come on next. The cop doesn’t bother to use his turn signal as he follows Kent to the side of the road. Tommy can feel his heart about to explode out of his chest as he downshifts the big Hemi in the Charger and pulls into the opposing lane to give himself room for his maneuver.
The highway patrol officer has stepped out of his vehicle and is making his way cautiously toward Kent’s car. As Tommy approaches the two cars on the side of the road, he hits his bright lights and blinds the officer who is now turning to see who or what is bearing down on him. Tommy can see Kent’s outline in the driver’s seat of the GTX and knows that he has already put the car in gear and is making his move. Kent hits the gas, spinning the wheels of the Plymouth and kicking dirt, grass, and gravel in the direction of the approaching highway patrolman. The officer is trying to deflect the debris that is striking him from the acceleration of Kent’s car and shield his eyes from the lights of Tommy’s vehicle. Tommy hits the brakes, turns the wheel hard right, and the heavy Dodge goes sideways. He slides sideways down the road as the car slowly turns itself 180 degrees and heads right toward the officer that has pulled Kent over.
“Aaahhhh! SHIT!” comes the voice of the patrolman as he realizes he is in deep trouble. He jumps onto and over the hood of his Ford as Tommy slides to a stop parallel to his car but facing the opposite direction. Tommy is nervous as hell as he thinks he may have overshot his mark and is about to smash the cop but is relieved when he sees the young officer’s athletic leap.
“Fuck you, buddy!” Tommy screams out the window of his car as he flips the cop the finger. The officer is obviously surprised but manages to stand and reach for his gun.
“What the fuck did you say?!” He screams from the front of the patrol car. He tries to stand, but slips in the loose dirt and gravel, banging down onto the hood. “What the fuck did you say?!” He is still trying to stand and gain control of his balance when Tommy hits the gas. After a quarter mile, Tommy goes dark. No longer able to see the Charger, the cop refrains from shooting and gets back into his car.
Tommy has slammed his foot down on the gas and the muscle car is rocketing down the road. He immediately begins hitting a series of toggle switches on the dash of the car that allow the driver to kill all of the lights and run dark. Once his vision acclimates, Tommy is driving purely by moonlight. Jerry told him he would! He can see the headlights of the patrol car as the angry officer turns the car around to chase him.
Kent is a mile down the road in the opposite direction and still has to make his drop-off. Tommy pulls the Charger down the same little road that the cop had been hiding, kills the engine, and waits. The blue lights of the highway patrol car flash and give the surrounding pines a strange appearance as they pass in a fruitless pursuit of the Charger. Once he no longer hears the roar of the Police Interceptor, Tommy pulls back onto the dark country road, turns on the toggle switches that control the lights, and heads off in the direction Kent had gone.
Tommy feels lucky that this encounter with the cops has gone reasonably well. The rest of their trip that night goes without a hitch. Of course, every cop in Jefferson County is on the lookout for the two cars, so the boys have to take a longer route back to Waynesboro. They also switch license plates on both cars before leaving Birmingham. They always drive with stolen plates on the cars and keep extras in the vehicle just in case they need to change them mid-delivery and none are available to steal. It’s a long drive home.
~~~
“Fuck you, buddy!” Billy laughs as he recounts the tale that had just been told by Kent. “How da fuck did you come up with that?” Tommy and Kent are with the rest of the crew at Jack’s farm following their long drives home.
“That’s the only thing that came to mind,” Tommy says, laughing along with the boys and Jack as the stories are told by each driver.
“Well, it sure pissed him off!” Billy almost shouts, laughing hard as he says it.
“Sho did,” Kent chimes in. “He just kept screaming ‘what da fuck did you say?’” Kent says, then repeats with a higher-voiced imitation, “What da fuck did you say?” All the boys and Jack laugh about that. It is funny as hell in retrospect, especially considering both boys made it home, the delivery was made, and both cars are home intact. It has been a successful run.
“Ya gonna need new cars,” Jack says at last. “Those two are burned for that run. Can’t take ’em inta Bama no more.” Jack shakes his head. He seems exasperated as he walks toward the door and mumbles, “Damn kids! Gonna cost me a fortune!” But everyone knows he is pleased that everyone made it home safe. He doesn’t really give a shit about those cars. Admit it or not, Jack loves each of these boys as his own sons.
1978
Tommy and Billy are out on a run. Billy’s car is loaded with booze and, once again, Tommy is blocker. Since his successful block for K
ent, Tommy is blocker more often than hauler these days. “Go with what works,” Jack will say. The two are out on a dark, quiet country road heading toward Chattanooga. They are supposed to drop the whiskey and pick up a bunch of meats and other provisions.
It’s a four-hour drive each way. Not a picnic in the park! The boys have been partying pretty hard lately. Drinking, smoking pot, and occasionally using homemade meth that helps keep them awake for long drives. Tommy has slowed down some in recent weeks, because he is saving money to rent a small trailer on a retired couples’ property by the river in Savannah. Lately though, he has had some concerns about Billy being behind the wheel. It appears to Tommy as though the country comedian is beginning to develop serious drug and alcohol habits, as opposed to just partying hard now and again.
As Tommy is driving and contemplating life’s great mysteries, the car that Billy is driving suddenly drifts toward the side of the road and the two right tires go into the dirt. It kicks up quite a cloud of dust. The car rights itself. This startles Tommy since nothing has happened thus far in their drive. Tommy is following Billy at a little under half a mile. A good, safe distance where he can observe what the other driver is doing and be there to help him out, if necessary.
Tommy stays at his half-mile distance and is not taking his eyes off the car ahead of him. There he goes again. Billy’s car drifts once again toward the shoulder of the road and kicks up dirt and gravel. Tommy knows something is up and presses down hard on the accelerator of the 1968 Camaro he’s driving. The 454 propels Tommy forward easily, and he catches up with Billy in about twenty seconds.
Tommy beeps his horn at Billy and flashes his headlights. Billy pulls to the side of the road and stops. Tommy follows.
“What the fuck, Billy?” Tommy demands of the other boy as he approaches the driver’s side of his car. Tommy leans in and can detect freshly smoked pot, sees an opened bottle of whiskey, and smells Billy’s stale breath. “What’s going on?”
“Nothing, man,” Billy says in a sleepy voice. “I’m just tired as fuck!”
“Yeah, I can see that!” Tommy is a little pissed. They shouldn’t be stopped out here on the side of the road. They should be driving. “Billy, you gotta stay awake for another two hours,” Tommy exclaims. “Can you do that?”
“Yeah, Tommy, I’ll be fine.” Somehow, Billy’s words are not very reassuring to Tommy. He looks drunk, high, and about to pass out.
“Fuck!” Tommy says. “I guess you’re out of speed?” Tommy asks.
“Yeah. That’s why I’m so fucking tired.”
“Great,” Tommy says as he thinks about where they are. “There’s a Waffle House over on the old highway. Know where it is?”
What choice do we have? We can’t stand around on the side of the road talking all night.
“Yeah, man, I’ve been there before,” Billy replies.
“Good. Let’s make our way over there. It’s only about ten miles. Can you do that?” Tommy is asking and explaining at the same time. “We can get some coffee there.”
“I can make it to the Waffle House,” Billy says. “Coffee will wake my ass right up!”
The two boys drive to the Waffle House, have coffee and some food, then finish their delivery, and make it home without further incident.
~~~
Tommy wakes early and drives to be with his lover, the hooker who asked him for cigarettes in the Aiken County jail. She has medium-length hair that is bleached blonde, a pretty face, and an average body. Her nails are nicely manicured again. She is nothing to write home about on the physical front, but she treats Tommy like a king, and that’s all that matters to him. It doesn’t seem unusual to Tommy that his sexual desires are being developed by his involvement with a prostitute twice his age. The older woman’s experience and expertise turn young Tommy from a boy into a man in an incredibly wonderful way.
~~~
Tommy and Billy return in the early morning but don’t say anything to anyone about what took them so long to get home. Instead, they both go to their beds and fall right to sleep. Tommy gets up early and drives to North Augusta for some fun with his friend from jail.
As soon as Tommy returns to the farm, Jack calls a meeting. He isn’t stupid. He knows something is up! So, after some prodding, Billy finally breaks down and tells the story of the night before. Jack isn’t very pleased, to say the least.
“What the fuck were you thinking, Billy?!” Jack asks excitedly. “You weren’t thinking! That’s the fucking problem!”
“I’m sorry, Jack,” comes Billy’s pathetic response to Jack’s assault.
“Bein’ sorry don’t account for my money or my cars,” Jack says angrily, “and it sure as hell don’t account for Tommy’s time if he goes to jail ’causea yo sorry ass!” Jack speaks with a thick down-home accent mixed with a little bit of Creole. His daddy was from Georgia, but his momma was born and raised in the Acadiana region of Louisiana.
“I said I’m sorry, Jack.” Billy is near tears. “I don’t know what else I can say.”
“Don’t say shit, you little fucker! Just clean up yo act before you fuck everything up!”
“I will, Jack,” Billy promises. “I will.”
“Good!” Jack storms away as fast as he can on his cane and his crooked hip.
“I’m sorry, Tommy,” Billy says as the older man leaves the room. “I didn’t mean to get us in any trouble.”
Tommy simply says, “Just do what Jack says and clean your act up, Billy!”
The three boys get up from the kitchen table. Jerry, who has been leaning against the stove during the tirade, leaves the kitchen with them. Tommy makes his way back to his bed in the room that he and the other boys share. He will normally arrive the day before a run so he can go over his car and get some rest before driving. Tommy has taken a keen interest in the mechanics of the cars the kids are driving and likes to spend time hanging out in the garage with the old geezer Jack has wrenching for him. The man fixes everything from cars to tractors as well as building some pretty damn good moonshine stills.
Tommy goes to the boys’ room and hits the sack. He is able to fall asleep pretty quickly, as usual. Tommy never seems to have difficulty falling asleep, only staying there.
~~~
“That’s it, son,” Big Tommy says, “keep tension on the line.” It’s early morning and the two are out fishing. They’re in a little aluminum boat on Clarks Lake.
“Let him fight until he tires a little, then reel him on in.”
Little Tommy has a fish on the line and is working to get it reeled in. His father is giving instructions on how to play the fish. Big Tommy seems pleased, which makes the youngster feel better, relieved.
“That’s a nice one!” Big Tommy says, excited to see his son catch such a big bass. “Good job!”
Little Tommy pulls up on the rod while his father reaches over the side of the small boat to retrieve the fish. It’s a nice largemouth bass that weighs a little under two pounds.
Little Tommy hopes the day will continue like this. He likes to please his father.
Tommy always dreams of the good times he has shared with his dad.
~~~
Kent pulls into the farm and heads straight for the garage. The two boys are returning from a run. Kent’s car is damaged and has to be brought in for repairs. Tommy pulls his car in behind Kent and turns off the engine.
The place seems completely quiet and still compared to a second earlier with the roar of the two V8s. But, the sounds of the country quickly come alive. Crickets and bullfrogs drowned out by the sound of the two cars can now be heard.
“What da hell happened?” The old mechanic comes out of his office/apartment that was once a storage room inside the barn that now serves as a garage.
“Hit a goddamn deer!” Kent explains. “Son of a bitch jumped right into the side of my fucking car!” The car has damage to the right front quarter panel and passenger door. Sure as fuck, Tommy backs up Kent’s story, as they are heading
home after the delivery, a deer ran out of the woods and right into the side of Kent’s car.
“You keep the deer?” Jack asks. He has crooked walked out to the barn and hears the conversation.
“Of course,” Tommy says. “It’s in the trunk.” He motions toward the trunk of his car.
“Excellent!” Jack replies. “Looks like venison for a while, boys! We have to get some sort of compensation for the damage to the car!” Everyone laughs. Venison is a staple food out on the farm. Deer are plentiful in the woods here, and the boys will go hunting when food is short. Deer, turkey, wild boar—food is abundant within the Georgia pines.
~~~
“I don’t wanna be out on the road with Billy again, Jack,” Tommy is saying. “He can’t stay clean, never sleeps, and he don’t drive worth a shit!”
“I understand, Tommy,” Jack tries to calm the boy down, “but I have to use whoever’s available to drive right now. I don’t have much choice,” he explains, “’cause Kent’s got a broken arm. The boy can’t drive.” Kent broke his forearm a couple of weeks earlier in a motorcycle crash on the farm.
Jack is right, of course, and Tommy knows it. He just doesn’t want to be out there putting his ass on the line because of Billy’s addictions. Tommy is no angel, by any means, and he will use speed, marijuana, alcohol, and a variety of pills that are easily available. Quaaludes are extremely popular during the 1970s! They are very relaxing and great for uninhibited sex, so Tommy generally keeps some on hand at his trailer in Savannah.
“I know,” Tommy relents. “Just try to talk sense into him, will ya?” Perhaps a good scolding from Jack will help straighten young Billy’s ass up! Jack agrees to talk to him.
1979