Roadrunner, Indians, Sharkskin suit

Roadrunner
One night my ride left so on my way out of the lot I stole a Roadrunner. It wasn’t planned, I was going to hitchhike, but as I passed by I saw that the windows were open and the keys were in the ignition.
It was an old school muscle car and I knew that whoever owned it loved it. Hood scoop and spoiler, big fat tires, rear end in the air, green metal flake paint job with wide white racing. I don’t know why it didn’t have a stick, but it didn’t so I had a ride home.
But I didn’t want to go home, driving it was too much fun so I passed through Traverse City and headed North, up M22 into Leelanau County. The road was empty and I was going as fast as I could. When I got to Northport I turned South. I slammed the pedal to the floor and It went right through it.
Directly in my path was a house and no obstructions between me and it. There was no way I could make the curve going as fast as I was. I shifted into neutral and the car spun out into the ditch on the other side of the road. The motor was screaming and I was afraid it would blow up or something so I jumped out and ran into the woods. Just like the Torch Lake Indians.




Indians take to the woods
Gabrielle and I were hitching up to our friend Nancy’s cottage on Torch Lake when an overloaded station wagon picked us up. It was filled with four of five generations of an Indian family. Not all of them I’m sure, but some from each. Gabby knew some of them. She liked to hook up with native guys. Anyone third world looking really.
We barely got a mile when smoke started billowing out from under the hood. The car pulled over and without a sound everyone piled out and ran into the woods. I considered it some sort of primitive reaction to the dysfunction of the white mans mechanical monster. They disappeared and we were left standing there. Gabrielle grew up on a farm and had some know how that I didn’t. She popped the hood and started throwing handfuls of sandy dirt onto the engine. I quickly joined in and we got the fire to go out.
A pick-up truck pulled over and the driver got out to help us. By now the engine had quit smoking but the Indians were still nowhere in sight. It was like they had vaporized. I wondered if they were still running, the fiery car a heaving monster in their minds, roaring through the woods behind them.

Sharkskin suit
I stayed in the woods too, for fear of being caught. The car was still screaming and there was the house right there. It was dawn now and I was wearing this shiny sharkskin suit. I was also wearing Beatle boots, this was my look at the time. With both of us being foreign objects in the area I’d immediately be connected to the car.
I started walking in the general direction of Lake Michigan. I thought this was what the Indians had been doing too, an instinctual pull towards water. If the world caught on fire, water would be safe harbor. At least you could see your enemies coming.
It was not a lush forest with a soft bed of needles underfoot. These woods had a lot of underbrush and the suit was getting snagged on branches. I was stumbling along for quite awhile when I glimpsed pavement between the trees.
I didn’t know what road it was or where I was but at this point I didn’t care. If a cop came along I’d just feign ignorance. I don’t know what you’re talking about, I could say.
I was so tired and dehydrated I would have drank from a puddle and slept in a ditch but I didn’t have to. I saw the trail to Vicki’s Place, and knew that if I made it there I’d have a bed to sleep in.