Brandon and I hung out at the bar for a minute or two until we found our waitress, ordered drinks and went back to our table. The girls were still talking a mile a minute and Ned had engaged another mutual friend that B and I both hung with from time to time – Jason. Even before we got to the table, we heard Ned’s obnoxious laugh (most likely at something he said that only HE thought was funny) – “Har-har-HAR!”
And it was true. Even as we sat down, Ned was regaling poor Jason about his new GT500 and how bad it was. We were fortunate enough to hear the repeat about the guy in the Camaro that ‘bout ran off the street just to get a good look at my Shel! Har-har-HAR!!”
Brandon looked at me with one of those “Good grief – is this guy for REAL?” looks. But Ned wasn’t about to let up now; not that he had an audience.
“Well, there ya are Buick Boy! Where ya been? Looking for more parts for your little V6? Har-har-HAR!”
The butt clown then slapped the table with his hand really hard for emphasis as he uncorked more of his ‘unique’ laughter at his own un-funny joke. Ok…. Enough was enough.
I leaned in towards him and just stared at him, unblinking. It took a second but Ned got the message. He shut his pie hole and just sneered a bit. I wanted to choke Brandon for inviting this guy but resisted the urge. But I also had something to say.
“You know, Ned… Brandon invited you hear out of the goodness of his heart – which is bigger than his brain, sometimes. But for you to talk smack and we don’t even really know each other seems pretty rude to me. Sure, you’ve probably got a shiny red car with cute stripes but still, it’s just a car. You like yours; I like mine so let’s leave it at that, ok? You’ve got a lot of nerve running your mouth here and not even knowing what it is you’re blabbing about so knock it off.”
Ned blinked. Most likely, very few people had ever spoke to him like that before but man, enough was enough. And I had had enough. Kelly, my wife, gave me one of her ‘Please don’t embarrass me!” looks and I smiled back at her.
Which, I don’t think helped. But I wasn’t going to stop now…
“Ed, everyone at our table is tired of your trying to be the center of attention. If you want to sit and have dinner with us, drink a couple of long-necks and have a good time, then you’re welcome to stay. But if this is gonna continue, why don’t you find another table because we’re tired of you and your act. You REALLY need to grow up.”
Sometimes, I surprise even myself. Brandon, for the first time since I had met him, was speechless. Angry at Ned, yes. But still, speechless.
I could see the red rise in Ned’s face and cheeks. I obviously had pushed a button or two.
“You know something, dude? I was just havin’ some fun and you go and get all pissy with me. Fine. I’ll head on out of this dump over to someplace that has people who can appreciate the opportunity to hang with someone like me. I was going to be nice and try to not embarrass you too bad whenever we run but no more. When we meet on the street or the track, I’m gonna bury you so deep, you will have to look up just to see your own ass. You have no clue who you are messin’ with, pal.”
“Oh, I am quite sure who you are Ned. I found out a lot about you when I watched you get escorted out of Columbus 8-9 years ago for cheating.”
Oh yeah. Shot, swish, point, game. I thought his face was red before but now, it was almost purple.
But to his credit, he just stood up, tossed a Twenty onto the table, and glared at me, his beady, rat-like features looking almost comical in the light.
However, he did have one more thing to add. “You’re gonna wish you hadn’t said that, pal. Oh, how you are gonna wish that you had not said that…” He then spun on his heel and left.
Brandon, always the jester, broke the tension.
“Well, that went well, didn’t it? Sheesh… what a jerk!”
We all had a good laugh and the rest of the evening at the restaurant went as planned. I didn’t even care who won the game because I’ve never been a sports fan unless it was a sport performed a quarter mile at a time. But regardless, before we knew it, the girls were all clamoring to head home. But then, Stacy spoke – asked a question really.
“Steve? Do you think Ned is waiting on you? You know, to run?”
I hadn’t given it much thought I guess.
“Aw, Stacy, I doubt it. He’s probably over at the Macaroni Grille right now with all his peeps, sipping on some fancy drink with a little paper umbrella in it, and has forgotten all about any sort of race. Besides, it’s after midnight – it’s too late for any silly stuff now. I’ve been up since early this morning and I’m ready for some shuteye.”
My lovely wife nodded her sleepy little head in agreement. But Stacy brought us back to reality.
“I don’t know Steve. That guy doesn’t seem like the kind of person I would turn my back on and I think you really made him angry. You just might want to keep your eyes open is all I’m sayin’.”
“Thanks Stacy. I’ll keep that in mind. Brandon, you guys leaving now?”
He pulled Stacy close.
“Yeah, let’s head on out. I’ve gotta drive right by your place anyhow so I’ll be right behind you – I want you to tell me if my headlights are aimed too high or not anyways. This will give me a chance to see your tail lights because I’m sure it will be the only time I’ll see them when I’m in ‘my Shel’ – Har-har-HAR!”
We ALL got a belly laugh out of B’s impersonation (a bad one at that) of Ned. It was definitely the nightcap we needed. With that, out the door we went and into the cold night air.
Actually, it felt great being outside after being cooped up in the restaurant all evening. We walked out the opposite door (which was facing Lowe’s) I had come in earlier and it was then that we saw it – something was on Brandon’s windshield. We couldn’t make it out what it was but it kind of looked like a big piece of paper or something tucked beneath the wiper blade. Maybe a sales flier?
Instead of separating there and my wife and I going to our cars, we walked on across the street to see what was on B’s car.
It was a note.
From Ned.
And it wasn’t a nice one. Brandon read it aloud.
“Hey buddy. Tell your Buick Boy I’ll be waiting for him tonight down at Wink’s Drive-In. I’ll be there until around 12:30 and if his balls are as big as his mouth, he won’t avoid me. I’ve got something I want to show him. And if he DOESN’T show, I’ll find him. It may not be tonight or tomorrow, but I’ll find him. He can’t dodge me forever. Make sure you tell him.”
I just laughed. “Man, did this guy ever get past the 7th grade?”
But - Brandon was furious. First, because someone had the audacity to touch his car. Or, the wiper blade TO his car. But beyond that, he was mad because someone had called out his friend and – remember the loyalty thing I told you about earlier? – he wasn’t having anything of it.
“Steve, let’s go down there and show him what’s what! I want to rip his head off for even touching my car but I’ll agree to wait until after you hand him his butt with the GN first. Whadayasay?”
Stacy spoke as Kelly pulled up tight and increased her grip on my arm. “See Steve? See what I mean? This guy isn’t right and to make a threat like that? That’s scary!”
“Stacy, he’s just a punk and a bully and most likely isn’t used to people standing up to him. Don’t worry about. I’m sure he’ll crawl back under his rock and we won’t see him again.”
I had no more than said that, standing there in Lowe’s parking lot at nearly one o’clock in the morning with a cold breeze brushing my face when I heard it.
‘It’ was a car with a very, very loud exhaust slowing to a stop at the intersection about 200 yards from where we stood. We all turned at the same time to look and at first, we just thought it was another late model Mustang with some stripes slowing to stop. But THIS car was pretty loud; louder than any other mod-motor Mustang I had heard on the street.
“Steve? I think that that is Ned’s car…”
Brandon had said answered a question I had just formulated in my mind. It was definitely a Shelby.
Weird isn’t it? You can go for months and not see a rare performance automobile but then Bam! You see TWO of them in the same day??! Like I said – it was going to be one of THOSE days….
We watched the blinker of the Shelby come on as it stopped at the light. Oddly, the breeze that had been tousling our hair and nipping at our cheeks stopped blowing and the night seemed amazingly quiet.
The Shelby sat there at the light, idling with a very deep, ‘basso-profundo’ exhaust note. It was Red. It had white stripes and it definitely had aftermarket wheels.
It HAD to be Ned’s car. And it was getting ready to turn into Lowe’s parking lot.
“This is gonna be interesting”, I said.
“Let’s go, Steve. You don’t need to get into a fight with an idiot tonight, ok?”, said Kelly, not sounding like she really meant it. Later, I found out that even SHE wanted a piece of Ned – but that too is another story.
So, we watched the Shelby idle. I could imagine how it’s turn signal flasher sounded after having driven Brandon’s car only hours earlier…
“Tinka… tinka…. Tinka… tinka… tinka…“
We watched the opposing lane’s light illuminate the caution.
Still, I could hear in my head that eerie blinker sound in concert with the exhaust note from from Pro-Stock Hell... “Tinka… tinka…. Tinka… tinka… tinka…. Badda – ba- badda – badda, badda – ba….“
The light changed and the events of the night were now set in motion.
The Shelby pulled into the lot, its front valance nearly scraping the inclined approach, Ned feathering the exhaust and the clutch to keep what sounded like a HIGHLY modified GT500 motor from stalling.
Clearing the opening, the Shelby accelerated quickly towards us, angling across the parking lot and ignoring the lines and lane striping. Straight at us it began to hurdle, sounding like it was still in first gear and flying now, covering the distance in the blink of an eye.
And just as quickly and loudly as he arrived, Ned slammed on the brakes to stop oh-so-melodramatically, his window down.
He shut off the Shelby and it was oddly quiet again. Off in the distance, we could still hear some of the noises from the restaurant and the sounds of cars being started to leave. Normal cars; not cars like the Devil Red Mustang in front of us.
A train’s horn sounded far, far off….
I just looked at Ned and grinned. Brandon went to step towards him but I put my arm in front of him to stop him. Surprising, he stopped.
Ned spoke, clearly proving he was a disturbed man.
“So… where y’all been? I’ve been waiting for ya down at Winks, telling everyone how some fool in an old Buick was challenging me to a run. But I told them that I knew you wouldn’t show up. And, you didn’t. Probably for the best there pal, doncha think?”
He tried to grin but it was obvious - he didn’t know how. He just had some odd look on his contorted face as if he meant to pass gas but got a surprise instead.
“Go on home, Ned. There’s not going to be any racing tonight. Like I said in there (nodding towards B-Dubs) – let’s get together next spring at the track and we’ll have a go at it.”
He was shaking his head before I even finished.
“Oh, no-sir-ree, Buick Boy. We’re gonna dance – tonight. I saw your car over there in the lot when I left so I know it’s here. Let’s line ‘em up down there at the light and I’ll show you why you’ve made a big mistake.”
“No, Ned. Not tonight. Next spring. C’mon guys, let’s go.”
With that, Ned shook his head angrily but still started his car. I turned my back on Ned walked back towards Brandon’s Shelby and heard Ned leave back out the way he came in. Stacy and B went ahead and got in the car and Kelly and I turned to cross the street just as I heard Stacy yell out her window before Brandon started his car.
“Watch out for him, Steve. He’s trouble.”
I thought for a moment and then answered.
“You know, Stacy? I think you might just be right. I’ll keep my eyes open… g’night.”
As I walked Kelly to her car, neither of us spoke. Sheesh… what a day, I thought to myself. Just a little drive home and then a nice, warm shower and on to bed. At least THIS day was over - finally. I kissed Kelly a quick good-bye kiss and headed on over to the GN, glad it was over indeed.
It wasn’t until a few short moments later that I realized just how wrong I really was….
More to come…
And it was true. Even as we sat down, Ned was regaling poor Jason about his new GT500 and how bad it was. We were fortunate enough to hear the repeat about the guy in the Camaro that ‘bout ran off the street just to get a good look at my Shel! Har-har-HAR!!”
Brandon looked at me with one of those “Good grief – is this guy for REAL?” looks. But Ned wasn’t about to let up now; not that he had an audience.
“Well, there ya are Buick Boy! Where ya been? Looking for more parts for your little V6? Har-har-HAR!”
The butt clown then slapped the table with his hand really hard for emphasis as he uncorked more of his ‘unique’ laughter at his own un-funny joke. Ok…. Enough was enough.
I leaned in towards him and just stared at him, unblinking. It took a second but Ned got the message. He shut his pie hole and just sneered a bit. I wanted to choke Brandon for inviting this guy but resisted the urge. But I also had something to say.
“You know, Ned… Brandon invited you hear out of the goodness of his heart – which is bigger than his brain, sometimes. But for you to talk smack and we don’t even really know each other seems pretty rude to me. Sure, you’ve probably got a shiny red car with cute stripes but still, it’s just a car. You like yours; I like mine so let’s leave it at that, ok? You’ve got a lot of nerve running your mouth here and not even knowing what it is you’re blabbing about so knock it off.”
Ned blinked. Most likely, very few people had ever spoke to him like that before but man, enough was enough. And I had had enough. Kelly, my wife, gave me one of her ‘Please don’t embarrass me!” looks and I smiled back at her.
Which, I don’t think helped. But I wasn’t going to stop now…
“Ed, everyone at our table is tired of your trying to be the center of attention. If you want to sit and have dinner with us, drink a couple of long-necks and have a good time, then you’re welcome to stay. But if this is gonna continue, why don’t you find another table because we’re tired of you and your act. You REALLY need to grow up.”
Sometimes, I surprise even myself. Brandon, for the first time since I had met him, was speechless. Angry at Ned, yes. But still, speechless.
I could see the red rise in Ned’s face and cheeks. I obviously had pushed a button or two.
“You know something, dude? I was just havin’ some fun and you go and get all pissy with me. Fine. I’ll head on out of this dump over to someplace that has people who can appreciate the opportunity to hang with someone like me. I was going to be nice and try to not embarrass you too bad whenever we run but no more. When we meet on the street or the track, I’m gonna bury you so deep, you will have to look up just to see your own ass. You have no clue who you are messin’ with, pal.”
“Oh, I am quite sure who you are Ned. I found out a lot about you when I watched you get escorted out of Columbus 8-9 years ago for cheating.”
Oh yeah. Shot, swish, point, game. I thought his face was red before but now, it was almost purple.
But to his credit, he just stood up, tossed a Twenty onto the table, and glared at me, his beady, rat-like features looking almost comical in the light.
However, he did have one more thing to add. “You’re gonna wish you hadn’t said that, pal. Oh, how you are gonna wish that you had not said that…” He then spun on his heel and left.
Brandon, always the jester, broke the tension.
“Well, that went well, didn’t it? Sheesh… what a jerk!”
We all had a good laugh and the rest of the evening at the restaurant went as planned. I didn’t even care who won the game because I’ve never been a sports fan unless it was a sport performed a quarter mile at a time. But regardless, before we knew it, the girls were all clamoring to head home. But then, Stacy spoke – asked a question really.
“Steve? Do you think Ned is waiting on you? You know, to run?”
I hadn’t given it much thought I guess.
“Aw, Stacy, I doubt it. He’s probably over at the Macaroni Grille right now with all his peeps, sipping on some fancy drink with a little paper umbrella in it, and has forgotten all about any sort of race. Besides, it’s after midnight – it’s too late for any silly stuff now. I’ve been up since early this morning and I’m ready for some shuteye.”
My lovely wife nodded her sleepy little head in agreement. But Stacy brought us back to reality.
“I don’t know Steve. That guy doesn’t seem like the kind of person I would turn my back on and I think you really made him angry. You just might want to keep your eyes open is all I’m sayin’.”
“Thanks Stacy. I’ll keep that in mind. Brandon, you guys leaving now?”
He pulled Stacy close.
“Yeah, let’s head on out. I’ve gotta drive right by your place anyhow so I’ll be right behind you – I want you to tell me if my headlights are aimed too high or not anyways. This will give me a chance to see your tail lights because I’m sure it will be the only time I’ll see them when I’m in ‘my Shel’ – Har-har-HAR!”
We ALL got a belly laugh out of B’s impersonation (a bad one at that) of Ned. It was definitely the nightcap we needed. With that, out the door we went and into the cold night air.
Actually, it felt great being outside after being cooped up in the restaurant all evening. We walked out the opposite door (which was facing Lowe’s) I had come in earlier and it was then that we saw it – something was on Brandon’s windshield. We couldn’t make it out what it was but it kind of looked like a big piece of paper or something tucked beneath the wiper blade. Maybe a sales flier?
Instead of separating there and my wife and I going to our cars, we walked on across the street to see what was on B’s car.
It was a note.
From Ned.
And it wasn’t a nice one. Brandon read it aloud.
“Hey buddy. Tell your Buick Boy I’ll be waiting for him tonight down at Wink’s Drive-In. I’ll be there until around 12:30 and if his balls are as big as his mouth, he won’t avoid me. I’ve got something I want to show him. And if he DOESN’T show, I’ll find him. It may not be tonight or tomorrow, but I’ll find him. He can’t dodge me forever. Make sure you tell him.”
I just laughed. “Man, did this guy ever get past the 7th grade?”
But - Brandon was furious. First, because someone had the audacity to touch his car. Or, the wiper blade TO his car. But beyond that, he was mad because someone had called out his friend and – remember the loyalty thing I told you about earlier? – he wasn’t having anything of it.
“Steve, let’s go down there and show him what’s what! I want to rip his head off for even touching my car but I’ll agree to wait until after you hand him his butt with the GN first. Whadayasay?”
Stacy spoke as Kelly pulled up tight and increased her grip on my arm. “See Steve? See what I mean? This guy isn’t right and to make a threat like that? That’s scary!”
“Stacy, he’s just a punk and a bully and most likely isn’t used to people standing up to him. Don’t worry about. I’m sure he’ll crawl back under his rock and we won’t see him again.”
I had no more than said that, standing there in Lowe’s parking lot at nearly one o’clock in the morning with a cold breeze brushing my face when I heard it.
‘It’ was a car with a very, very loud exhaust slowing to a stop at the intersection about 200 yards from where we stood. We all turned at the same time to look and at first, we just thought it was another late model Mustang with some stripes slowing to stop. But THIS car was pretty loud; louder than any other mod-motor Mustang I had heard on the street.
“Steve? I think that that is Ned’s car…”
Brandon had said answered a question I had just formulated in my mind. It was definitely a Shelby.
Weird isn’t it? You can go for months and not see a rare performance automobile but then Bam! You see TWO of them in the same day??! Like I said – it was going to be one of THOSE days….
We watched the blinker of the Shelby come on as it stopped at the light. Oddly, the breeze that had been tousling our hair and nipping at our cheeks stopped blowing and the night seemed amazingly quiet.
The Shelby sat there at the light, idling with a very deep, ‘basso-profundo’ exhaust note. It was Red. It had white stripes and it definitely had aftermarket wheels.
It HAD to be Ned’s car. And it was getting ready to turn into Lowe’s parking lot.
“This is gonna be interesting”, I said.
“Let’s go, Steve. You don’t need to get into a fight with an idiot tonight, ok?”, said Kelly, not sounding like she really meant it. Later, I found out that even SHE wanted a piece of Ned – but that too is another story.
So, we watched the Shelby idle. I could imagine how it’s turn signal flasher sounded after having driven Brandon’s car only hours earlier…
“Tinka… tinka…. Tinka… tinka… tinka…“
We watched the opposing lane’s light illuminate the caution.
Still, I could hear in my head that eerie blinker sound in concert with the exhaust note from from Pro-Stock Hell... “Tinka… tinka…. Tinka… tinka… tinka…. Badda – ba- badda – badda, badda – ba….“
The light changed and the events of the night were now set in motion.
The Shelby pulled into the lot, its front valance nearly scraping the inclined approach, Ned feathering the exhaust and the clutch to keep what sounded like a HIGHLY modified GT500 motor from stalling.
Clearing the opening, the Shelby accelerated quickly towards us, angling across the parking lot and ignoring the lines and lane striping. Straight at us it began to hurdle, sounding like it was still in first gear and flying now, covering the distance in the blink of an eye.
And just as quickly and loudly as he arrived, Ned slammed on the brakes to stop oh-so-melodramatically, his window down.
He shut off the Shelby and it was oddly quiet again. Off in the distance, we could still hear some of the noises from the restaurant and the sounds of cars being started to leave. Normal cars; not cars like the Devil Red Mustang in front of us.
A train’s horn sounded far, far off….
I just looked at Ned and grinned. Brandon went to step towards him but I put my arm in front of him to stop him. Surprising, he stopped.
Ned spoke, clearly proving he was a disturbed man.
“So… where y’all been? I’ve been waiting for ya down at Winks, telling everyone how some fool in an old Buick was challenging me to a run. But I told them that I knew you wouldn’t show up. And, you didn’t. Probably for the best there pal, doncha think?”
He tried to grin but it was obvious - he didn’t know how. He just had some odd look on his contorted face as if he meant to pass gas but got a surprise instead.
“Go on home, Ned. There’s not going to be any racing tonight. Like I said in there (nodding towards B-Dubs) – let’s get together next spring at the track and we’ll have a go at it.”
He was shaking his head before I even finished.
“Oh, no-sir-ree, Buick Boy. We’re gonna dance – tonight. I saw your car over there in the lot when I left so I know it’s here. Let’s line ‘em up down there at the light and I’ll show you why you’ve made a big mistake.”
“No, Ned. Not tonight. Next spring. C’mon guys, let’s go.”
With that, Ned shook his head angrily but still started his car. I turned my back on Ned walked back towards Brandon’s Shelby and heard Ned leave back out the way he came in. Stacy and B went ahead and got in the car and Kelly and I turned to cross the street just as I heard Stacy yell out her window before Brandon started his car.
“Watch out for him, Steve. He’s trouble.”
I thought for a moment and then answered.
“You know, Stacy? I think you might just be right. I’ll keep my eyes open… g’night.”
As I walked Kelly to her car, neither of us spoke. Sheesh… what a day, I thought to myself. Just a little drive home and then a nice, warm shower and on to bed. At least THIS day was over - finally. I kissed Kelly a quick good-bye kiss and headed on over to the GN, glad it was over indeed.
It wasn’t until a few short moments later that I realized just how wrong I really was….
More to come…
