Notice: Function _load_textdomain_just_in_time was called incorrectly. Translation loading for the twentyfifteen domain was triggered too early. This is usually an indicator for some code in the plugin or theme running too early. Translations should be loaded at the init action or later. Please see Debugging in WordPress for more information. (This message was added in version 6.7.0.) in /chroot/home/a6f7779a/9d7429a5d9.nxcli.io/html/wp-includes/functions.php on line 6170 {"id":658,"date":"2016-07-24T13:03:40","date_gmt":"2016-07-24T18:03:40","guid":{"rendered":"http:\/\/frankdeleon.com\/?p=658"},"modified":"2016-07-24T13:03:40","modified_gmt":"2016-07-24T18:03:40","slug":"slowly-sliding-into-the-abyss-part-3","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/frankdeleon.com\/?p=658","title":{"rendered":"Slowly Sliding Into the Abyss…Part 3"},"content":{"rendered":"

Slowly Sliding Into the Abyss<\/u><\/strong><\/p>\n

Part 3<\/u><\/strong><\/p>\n

January, 1963<\/p>\n

<\/p>\n

Tommy X.<\/u><\/strong><\/p>\n

In order to staff the radar positions in the Winnemucca AFS radar room twenty-four hours a day and seven days a week, several rotating crews of operators, working nine days in a row\u2014three day shifts, three evening shifts, three midnight shifts, and finally three days off\u2014were required.\u00a0 Shift scheduling in the days before personal computers was done by hand and was one of the least desirable of the many collateral duties assigned to the cadre of sergeants in charge of the various crews.<\/p>\n

I soon learned, as unlikely as it would seem, that it was entirely possible for a crew of radar operators, such as the one to which I was assigned, to never meet anyone from another crew that was working completely opposite shifts.\u00a0 For example, a crew having worked their last midnight shift before taking three days off, would be relieved by a crew coming on to work the first of three day shifts.\u00a0 That crew would be relieved by another crew coming in to work the second of three swing shifts.\u00a0 And so on.<\/p>\n

Before I married Sharon, and still living in my assigned Quonset hut, the first of my three days off would usually be spent hanging around members of the other crews who were either on their second or third day off.\u00a0 In short, there were some airmen assigned to the radar station and doing the same job that I was, who I never, or rarely ever saw.\u00a0 This was the case with a fellow radar operator, and Texan, T\u00f3mas X. S\u00e1nchez.\u00a0 He preferred to be called \u2018Tommy\u2019, and detested having anyone address him by his middle name, \u2018Xavier\u2019.<\/p>\n

Hailing from San Antonio, Texas, Tommy had arrived at Winnemucca in July of 1961, a month after my arrival, and was housed in an adjoining Quonset hut.\u00a0 He was very quiet, staying mostly to himself, and preferring to spend his days off reading or listening to music in his room.\u00a0 Whenever he did choose to venture out it was mostly to the Rec Room to shoot pool\u2014at which he was quite the hustler.<\/p>\n

To my knowledge, he didn\u2019t frequent the Officers\u2019 Club very often; at least I don\u2019t remember seeing him there, except for one exceptional occasion, during my eighteen months in Winnemucca.\u00a0 On very rare occasions I did see him in the Rec Room, usually shooting some very serious pool, but I never had the opportunity to actually meet or converse with him.<\/p>\n

Although I saw him very seldom and did not socialize with him at all, I had heard of his propensity for getting into verbal and physical altercations, usually involving alcohol.\u00a0 I would usually overhear snippets of conversation about the \u201clittle\u201d Mexican kid with the thin skin getting pissed at the club and getting into a fight.\u00a0 He was often described as a quiet little guy with a big temper who couldn\u2019t take a joke about his size or ethnicity.\u00a0 Since I didn\u2019t really know him I took very little interest in this type of gossip.<\/p>\n

The one incident that actually involved Tommy and myself occurred one evening at the Officers\u2019 Club.\u00a0 It was a weekend during the first few months of my having arrived at Winnemucca when I happened to be having a few beers and socializing with some of my crewmembers.\u00a0 We were sitting at a table when the club\u2019s juke box suddenly broke down yet again, eliciting boos and jeers from the crowd.\u00a0 After a few minutes someone yelled from the bar that I should get my guitar and entertain them with a few songs.\u00a0 A raucous cheer and applause erupted and off I went.\u00a0 Yes, they were all very easily entertained.<\/p>\n

After returning to the club, guitar in hand, I rejoined my group and began to sing a few popular folk songs of the day.\u00a0 Partying a couple of tables away was a small contingent of sailors from the Naval Air Station in Fallon, Nevada, who\u2019d been visiting our radar station for a few days receiving cross training on our radar hardware.\u00a0 After our songfest started they pulled their table up close to ours and joined in the fun.<\/p>\n

We were all having a really good time, and after about an hour I asked if we could take a little break so I could catch up on some beer drinking and visit the restroom.\u00a0 As I was putting my Gibson back into its case I thought I heard one of the sailors say, \u201cHey, you know, you play and sing pretty good\u2014for a Mexican!\u201d<\/p>\n

An ominous hush came over the Air Force guys gathered around our table as the naval contingent chuckled, chortled, and raised their beers and voices in unanimous affirmation of the anonymous statement.<\/p>\n

I stood back up, still holding my guitar in my left hand by its ebony layered neck, and asked, \u201cWho said that?\u201d<\/p>\n

A paunchy, pimple-faced sailor, red hair cut down to a miniscule crew cut, and leaning back in his chair\u2014one dungareed bell-bottomed leg resting on the table\u2014held his beer bottle high and yelled back, \u201cI did!!\u201d<\/p>\n

Still holding my guitar, I took a few steps in his direction and asked, \u201cI\u2019m sorry.\u00a0 I don\u2019t think I heard you very well.\u00a0 What was it you said about my singing?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cI said,\u201d his drunken smile slowly changing into a cynical sneer, \u201cthat for a fucking Mexican, you sing pretty good!\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cOK, that\u2019s what I thought you said.\u201d<\/p>\n

I don\u2019t recall exactly why his comment suddenly made me so angry, as remarks like that usually didn\u2019t bother me, but I\u2019m assuming that my consumption of various adult beverages during the evening may\u2019ve had something to do with it.<\/p>\n

I was within a few feet of him when that strange and surprisingly satisfying thought entered my mind.\u00a0 Without further hesitation, and acting strictly on impulse, I grabbed the neck of my guitar with both hands and swung it, somewhat underhanded, in the direction of the sailor\u2019s face.<\/p>\n

I heard a satisfying crunch and remember seeing a beer bottle flying up and bouncing off the club\u2019s ceiling.\u00a0 The momentum and weight of the flying guitar spun me to my left and I lost my balance on the slippery vinyl floor.\u00a0 Landing heavily on my left buttock, the momentum of my swing caused me to slide under a table; all the while still holding my now slightly fractured guitar by its neck.<\/p>\n

The sound of yelling, table and chair legs breaking, and bodies slamming onto the hard floor, brought me to my senses, and I quickly decided that maybe I should formulate an exit strategy while I was still pretty much intact.<\/p>\n

Still under the table and laying on my left side I spotted a clear route to the back door.\u00a0 Everyone looked pretty busy at the moment and no one seemed to be paying attention to me so I felt that this was as good a time as any for me and my injured guitar to make our escape.\u00a0 As I brought my knees under me, preparing to make a dash for the door, I heard a violent, ear-splitting scream high, and off to my right.\u00a0 Snapping my head in the direction of the cry, fully expecting someone\u2019s fist to come smashing into my face, I instead saw a pint-sized uniformed airman\u2014arms and legs spread out, wing-like\u2014literally flying towards a writhing pile of sailors and air force guys on the floor.\u00a0 Mouth open, neck arteries popping out, he looked like some kind of rabid flying squirrel gone screamingly mad and executing a Kamikaze-like attack on a hoard of newly discovered pine nuts.<\/p>\n

As he crashed head-first into the pile of thrashing people I spotted the flying munchkin\u2019s name tag: SANCHEZ.\u00a0 Although I had not seen him earlier, Tommy had been at the bar the whole time and was apparently quite drunk.<\/p>\n

As the crazy melee gained momentum I was somehow able to belly-crawl with my guitar to one of the back doors and escape into the night.<\/p>\n

The next day I slept in until well past ten in the morning, nursing a moderate hangover and a semi-queasy stomach.\u00a0 Upon waking, jumbled memories of a fight at the club flooded my mind and I wondered how everything had ended up after I\u2019d made my stealthy escape.<\/p>\n

I glanced over to where I\u2019d hurriedly put my guitar the night before and strained to see if it had sustained any damage during the fight.\u00a0 It was propped up in a corner of my room, and from my vantage point on the bed it looked OK.<\/p>\n

Eventually, my curiosity won over my laziness, and trying to ignore the little post-alcohol throb beating inside my forehead, I got up to check out the Gibson and look for any damage.\u00a0 Aside from a lot of smudges and fingerprints, the top and the sound hole looked OK; then I picked it up and spun it around to inspect its back.\u00a0 Regrettably, I saw a long split in the wood running along the body on what is referred to as the lower \u201cwaist\u201d side of the guitar.\u00a0 My heart skipped a beat and I remember feeling a deep sorrow as I ran my finger up and down the split.\u00a0 My first thoughts were try to find some musical instrument store in town that would repair the damage, but then I realized that in my financial situation my beloved Gibson would probably have to bear this wound for the foreseeable future.<\/p>\n

I sat on the bed and brought the guitar up to strum a few chords\u2014hoping I wouldn\u2019t hear a rattle.\u00a0 The damaged waist rested on my right leg and I felt the split bite into my skin as I gripped the neck to form a C chord.\u00a0 I lay my beloved guitar gently down on the bed, and decided that maybe I should just shower and head to the chow hall for lunch.<\/p>\n

Coming out of the shower room and taking the hall back to my room I saw one of my crew mates exit his room.\u00a0 Wearing a white bath towel wrapped around his waist and carrying a shaving kit, he looked a little ragged and appeared to be limping slightly.<\/p>\n

\u201cHey!\u201d I said, cheerily.\u00a0 \u201cYou OK?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cYeah.\u201d he said, rubbing his bloodshot eyes gingerly with his wrist.\u00a0 \u201cDon\u2019t know how I bummed my knee last night.\u00a0 I spent most of the fucking fight last night on the floor.\u00a0 Speaking of which, did you see who started it?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cMe? No!\u00a0 I heard some yelling and I started to put my guitar down when all Hell broke loose.\u201d I lied.\u00a0 \u201cThen I left in a hurry.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cYeah well, I was headed to the latrine to take a piss when I heard some yelling behind me and one of the asshole squids (derogatory term for navy guy) grabbed me by the neck.\u00a0 We both went down on the slick floor, but I did manage to kick him in the nuts.\u00a0 \u00a0That\u2019s when I got up and hightailed it for the front door.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cYeah, I scooted out the back and hurried back to my room, so I don\u2019t know what happened next.<\/p>\n

\u201cWell you know, we\u2019re probably the only two in the whole club who didn\u2019t get hauled off to jail.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cJail!?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cOh yeah.\u00a0 Jay stopped by this morning coming off his mid shift and said that he\u2019d heard it got so bad the base commander had to call the cops, and everyone who was still in the club when they got there got hauled off to jail.\u00a0 Fuck, half the base is probably still down there now trying to make bail, including the little Mexican.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cJesus!\u00a0 You know, when I was under a table I saw him leap into the pile!\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cYup.\u00a0 I guess he did some righteous damage to those fucking squids.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cHe must have.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cYeah, well I gotta go take a shower and get some chow in my belly.\u00a0 Got a hell of a hangover.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cOK, yeah me too.\u00a0 See ya later.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cOK.\u00a0 But I\u2019d still like to know who the hell threw the first punch.\u201d\u00a0 He said as he shuffled off down the hall, flip-flops slapping on the tile floor.<\/p>\n

\u201cOh,\u201d I said over my shoulder with a little grin. \u201cYou know, I heard it was someone named Gibson.\u201d<\/p>\n

Tommy Hitches a Ride<\/u><\/strong><\/p>\n

It was the second week of January and my orders stated a report-in date to the radar station in Alaska as February 12, 1963.\u00a0 That meant that we would have to leave Winnemucca at least by the third week of January to have time enough to drive down to Houston to leave Sharon and the baby with my folks.\u00a0 I would use a few days of home leave while there, then depart for Alaska.<\/p>\n

Sharon and I decided that she\u2019d keep the car in Houston, and that I\u2019d take a Greyhound bus to Seattle (cheaper than flying), then catch a military charter flight (my first ever) to Anchorage.\u00a0 From there the military would put me on a shuttle flight to McGrath, and finally fly me, in a bush- piloted two-seater prop plane, to the Tatalina Radar Station\u2014tucked away on top of a rugged hill overlooking the seven hundred-mile-long Kuskokwim River.<\/p>\n

On my way home after finishing one of my last day shifts, I stopped at our little mail to see if I\u2019d received any late letters from my mom.\u00a0 Looking through the tiny glass window I saw what appeared to be a slip of paper laying diagonally in the mail slot.\u00a0 Too thin to be an envelope, I fantasized that maybe this could be a note from the base commander telling me that my reassignment to Alaska was all just a joke.<\/p>\n

I pulled out the neatly folded note, noting my last name hand-written in small block letters.\u00a0 I unfolded it, looking first at the signature at the bottom before daring to read the message it contained.\u00a0 It was signed, \u2018T.X. Sanchez\u2019.\u00a0 Slightly confused, my eyes shot up to the body of the note.<\/p>\n

\u2018Frank, before you leave the base for home today can you come see me?\u00a0 I\u2019ll be in the Rec Room.\u00a0 I\u2019d like to ask you a favor.<\/em><\/p>\n

Thanks, T.X. Sanchez\u2019<\/em><\/p>\n

I looked around to see if there may be someone hiding behind a door waiting to play some kind of joke on me, but I saw no one.<\/p>\n

I walked out of the mailroom, stopping by the orderly\u2019s desk on my way out.<\/p>\n

\u201cHey,\u201d I said to the airman sitting at his desk typing some important-looking document on his Royal typewriter, \u201cI just got this note in my mail slot.\u201d\u00a0 I waved the note at him.<\/p>\n

\u201cYeah?\u201d He said, making his answer sound like a question.<\/p>\n

\u201cYeah, well I was just wondering if you saw who may have put it there.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cIs it signed?\u201d He asked, a little annoyed that I\u2019d interrupted him.<\/p>\n

\u201cUh, yeah.\u00a0 \u2018Sanchez\u2019.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cTommy?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cI think so.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cIs it a dirty note?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cWhat?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cIs it a dirty note?\u201d Delivered, word by word\u2014slowly.<\/p>\n

\u201cOh, no.\u00a0 He says he wants me to see him in the Rec Room before I leave for home.\u201d<\/p>\n

The orderly leaned back in his chair and crossed his arms.\u00a0 \u201cWell fuck, DeLe\u00f3n.\u00a0 Why don\u2019t you just go to the Rec Room to see what he wants instead of standing here taking up my time?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cNo.\u00a0 I mean, yes. \u00a0That\u2019s what I plan to do.\u00a0 But I was just wondering…\u201d<\/p>\n

He cocked his head and stared at me, harder.<\/p>\n

\u201cNever mind.\u201d I said.\u00a0 \u201cI\u2019ll go see if he\u2019s there.\u201d I turned and headed for the door.<\/p>\n

\u201cThere you go!\u201d He said to my back.<\/p>\n

I felt kind of stupid as I walked up the wooden incline that led to the stairs outside the Rec Room, but since I\u2019d never really met Tommy I was a little confused as to what he may want with me.\u00a0 I guess I just didn\u2019t want any more surprises.<\/p>\n

Entering the large fluorescent-lit room, I was overwhelmed with the stench of cigarette smoke and the sharp marble-like clicks of pool table balls.\u00a0 Since I\u2019d been married I hadn\u2019t spent any time there and had forgotten how noisy and smelly it was.\u00a0 With the note still in my hand I paused, looking around the room for Tommy.<\/p>\n

I spotted him hunched over the end of one of the pool tables, left arm stiffly stretched on the dusty green felt, fingers wrapped around the end of a cue.\u00a0 His head was poised directly over the stick, right arm like a pendulum, pushing the end of the cue forward and back as he lined up his shot.<\/p>\n

I waited for him to finish his shot, which he missed, and move away from the table.<\/p>\n

\u201cTommy!\u201d\u00a0 I called out.<\/p>\n

He turned around to face me as I walked up to him.\u00a0 \u201cYeah?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cHey,\u201d I said, holding the folded note in my hand, \u201cyou wanted to talk to me?\u201d<\/p>\n

He looked a little distracted as his opponent, one of the radar technicians whom I\u2019d seen on occasion on the hill, ran three consecutive balls into the pool table\u2019s leather pockets.\u00a0 \u201cOh yeah.\u00a0 Uh, you mind waiting a little bit.\u00a0 I\u2019m about to lose this game anyway.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cSure, no problem.\u00a0 I\u2019ll just wait over here.\u201d\u00a0 I walked over and sat on one of the dated double-cushioned lounge chairs.<\/p>\n

Putting the note into my uniform shirt\u2019s breast pocket I sat and watched as Tommy took his turns on the pool table.\u00a0 He played with a determined intensity, lining up each shot with great care, his face a mask of deep concentration.<\/p>\n

He was small with a dark, slightly pockmarked complexion, and wore his shiny black hair in a neat flat-top.\u00a0 After each shot his demeanor would immediately swing back from intense to jovial\u2014joking and chuckling\u2014either lining up his next ball or humorously remarking how badly he\u2019d missed the previous shot.\u00a0 He didn\u2019t just walk around the table but seemed to bounce from place to place.\u00a0 I got the distinct impression that somewhere inside of him there was a flaming ball of energy just fighting to get out.<\/p>\n

As his opponent finally sank the eight ball, Tommy let out a shout of disgust.\u00a0 \u201cShit, I can\u2019t believe this!\u201d\u00a0 He banged the rubber base of his cue lightly on the floor and pointed to another guy sitting on one of the rec room\u2019s high stools.\u00a0 \u201cYou\u2019re up!\u00a0 Maybe you can beat this guy and his shit shots!\u201d\u00a0 He then looked my way and the look on his face said that he\u2019d totally forgotten that I was even there.<\/p>\n

\u201cOh yeah,\u201d he said, pointing at me, \u201clet me put this cue up.\u201d<\/p>\n

He walked back from the cue rack and sat heavily down beside me on the lounge chair.\u00a0 He stuck out his hand, \u201cHey, Tommy Sanchez!\u201d<\/p>\n

I shook his hand and noted that even though it felt small in mine, his grip was vise-like.<\/p>\n

\u201cSo, I got your note.\u00a0 What\u2019s up?\u201d\u00a0 I said.<\/p>\n

\u201cWell, you know it\u2019s crazy, but I\u2019ve been here for about a year and a half, doing the same job as you, and I\u2019ve only seen you a couple of times.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cYeah.\u00a0 Those nine-on and three-off shifts tend to do that.\u00a0 There\u2019s a whole group of guys that I see here and there that I\u2019ve never met.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cSo, you were on Nietzsche\u2019s crew, right?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cYeah, I was.\u00a0 Then he left.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cOK, I\u2019m on Kazinski\u2019s crew.\u00a0 We work completely opposite to you.\u00a0 That\u2019s why we never see each other.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cSo are you on days off now?\u201d\u00a0 I asked.<\/p>\n

\u201cYup.\u00a0 Second of three.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cSo,\u201d I wanted to cut to the chase, \u201cwhat\u2019s the favor you wanted?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cWell, I heard you got orders for Alaska\u2026Tatalina.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cYeah, I sure did.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cSo\u2026me too.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cWhat?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cYeah, reporting next month on the twelfth.\u00a0 So it looks like the Air Force picked the only two Mexicans on the base and decided to send us to Alaska to freeze our asses off.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cHoly crap!\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cYeah, that sucks, right?\u00a0 And I asked around and heard you were from Texas\u2014is that right?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cYeah, Houston.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cSan Antonio!\u201d He said, poking himself in the chest.<\/p>\n

\u201cReally?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cYup, born and raised.\u00a0 So the Air Force is two-for-two.<\/p>\n

\u201cSure seems like it.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cOK, so here\u2019s what I wanted to know.\u00a0 I know you got married a few months ago to some local chick\u2026and you got a kid already, is that right?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cYes.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cSo are you planning to leave them here with her folks when you leave, or is she and your kid going somewhere else?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cWell, I just got my car rebuilt so we\u2019re driving to Houston where they\u2019ll stay with my folks while I\u2019m in Alaska.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cPerfect!\u201d\u00a0 He said it with so much emphasis that I jumped just a bit.\u00a0 \u201cSo, I live in San Antonio, and since we have to be at Tatalina on the same day I was wondering if you\u2019d mind if I tagged along with you guys when you drive down to Texas.\u00a0 See, on the way to Houston you can drop me off in San Antonio. \u00a0I\u2019ll help pay for the gas and stuff, of course.\u00a0 What\u2019dya say?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cWell,\u201d I said slowly, \u201cI sure don\u2019t mind, but I\u2019ll have to ask Sharon to see how she feels about it.\u00a0 I don\u2019t see why she\u2019d mind though.\u00a0 Especially if you\u2019re going to help pay for gas.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cAnd I\u2019ll kick in for some groceries too, along the way!\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cSo, you know my son is not even six months old, right?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cOh, I didn\u2019t know how old he was.\u00a0 But yeah, that\u2019s OK.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cAnd he gets a lot of colic and cries a lot.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cWell, your car\u2019s got a radio?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cYeah.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cWell, there you go!\u00a0 Or I can stick my head out the window\u2026my hair-do won\u2019t get too messed up.\u201d\u00a0 He rubbed his head and flashed a big smile.\u00a0 \u201cBut really man, this would save me a lot of travel money.\u00a0 I was planning to fly to San Antonio, but if I drive down with you and share expenses, that\u2019ll mean more money for me.\u00a0 Oh, and a little more for you too.\u201d<\/p>\n

I looked up at the wall clock and knew Sharon would be wondering why I wasn\u2019t home yet.<\/p>\n

\u201cOK look, I have to go now.\u201d\u00a0 I said.\u00a0 \u201cHave to eat dinner, then I have to pull a shift at the gas station where I work part-time.\u00a0 But I\u2019ll talk to my wife and then let you know.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cAll right, that\u2019s cool.\u201d<\/p>\n

I got up, and we both started heading for the door.\u00a0 \u201cHow do I get ahold of you?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cJust leave me a note in my mailbox.\u00a0 It\u2019s number 1122.\u201d\u00a0 He said.\u00a0 \u201cJust write \u2018Yes\u2019, if you and your wife agree.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cOK.\u00a0 Are you getting a couple of days off work as travel time?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cYeah.\u00a0 You?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cYeah.\u00a0 If all goes well, we can use those days to get everything packed in the car and plan our drive down.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cSounds great.\u201d\u00a0 He stuck his hand out and I shook it.\u00a0 \u201cOK, see you vato.\u201d<\/p>\n

That last word gave me a bit of a pause, as I\u2019d not heard it since before I left Houston for what seemed to be years ago.<\/p>\n

***<\/p>\n

On Thursday, January 31, 1963, I was officially relieved of official duty at the Winnemucca Air Force Station and was placed on \u2018Travel Status\u2019.\u00a0 Sharon and I had already packed up most of the stuff we were taking to Houston (not much), and what I would need when I left Houston on my way to Alaska.\u00a0 Our rent was paid up until the end of the month, and the utilities were to be cut off on February 1^{st<\/sup>.<\/p>\n}

We decided that we would start our drive to Houston early Friday morning, after stopping to pick up Tommy at the base. \u00a0He and I would share the driving, and Sharon would ride in the back seat next to Ricky, who would be tucked into his bassinet.\u00a0 The baby\u2019s formula came in cans so all we had to worry about was making sure that when we stopped to eat we did so at places that would let us warm his bottles up.\u00a0 Since restaurants and gas stations always had a coffee maker we felt confident that Sharon could sweet talk the waitresses and attendants into helping us out in that regard.<\/p>\n

Although the weather was very cold in Nevada, the car had a very good heater so we weren\u2019t too worried about the baby getting cold.\u00a0 Besides, the further south we drove the warmer it would get.\u00a0 We considered ourselves lucky that there was no snow on the ground, nor was there any forecast in the next few days.<\/p>\n

We stuffed most of our clothing into laundry and cloth bags instead of boxes, so we could push them easier into all the nooks and crannies in the Bel Air\u2019s spacious trunk.\u00a0 The last two items that went into the trunk was Tommy\u2019s and my military duffel bags.<\/p>\n

Since we couldn\u2019t spare the money or the time to stay overnight in motels, we calculated that if we drove nonstop from Winnemucca to San Antonio, it would take us about thirty hours.\u00a0 Including food and restroom stops, that would put us at Tommy\u2019s house late Saturday afternoon, and in Houston sometime later that night.\u00a0 That would give me a week to spend at home with my folks and to get Sharon and the baby settled before leaving around February 10^{th,<\/sup> for the trip to Alaska.<\/p>\n}

It was still dark when we pulled up to Tommy\u2019s barracks Friday morning, and after putting his stuff in the trunk, drove off the base for the last time ever.<\/p>\n

Looking back now, I shudder to think how the three of us started our roughly sixteen hundred-mile-trip with not a worry in the world.\u00a0 We were young, inexperienced, and excited to be off on a great adventure, never giving a second thought to a long road trip that would be fraught with danger.<\/p>\n

And it would not be long before we would all come very close to losing our lives.<\/p>\n

Somewhere In Arizona<\/u><\/strong><\/p>\n

We turned east onto Highway 40 and I drove the fifty-odd miles to Battle Mountain, where we\u2019d turn south onto Highway 95, on our way to our first major waypoint, Las Vegas.\u00a0 There was very little traffic on the old two-lane road, and Sharon and I spent the first hour of the trip getting acquainted with Tommy.<\/p>\n

I found him to be a very pleasant and funny guy, with a very quick wit and easy to get along with.\u00a0 We passed the time relating stories about our experiences at Winnemucca and comparing our sergeants\u2019 differing sergeants\u2019 supervisory styles.<\/p>\n

He was very curious about how Sharon and I had met, and wondered aloud why he\u2019d never come close to dating, or even meeting, any local Winnemucca girls.\u00a0 I told him about the local dances at the Town Hall, and he confessed that although he\u2019d heard about them, he never had to courage to attend one.<\/p>\n

\u201cI don\u2019t dance that good.\u201d\u00a0 He said, looking at the mountains in the distance.\u00a0 \u201cBesides, since I didn\u2019t have a car I didn\u2019t know how I\u2019d get down and back anyway.\u201d<\/p>\n

I talked to him about how sometimes I\u2019d ride down with Jay, or how I\u2019d ask Michael if I could borrow his car.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cOh,\u201d Sharon chimed in, \u201cand don\u2019t forget to fill Tommy in on who taught you how to dance.\u201d<\/p>\n

I looked in the rear-view mirror and saw that Sharon had a little smirk on her face.\u00a0 \u201cI only asked Judy to teach me how to dance so I could have more dance time with you\u2026\u201d\u00a0 I said to the mirror.<\/p>\n

\u201cJudy, who?\u201d\u00a0 Tommy asked.<\/p>\n

I glanced at Tommy, \u201cOh, a girl named Judy Travis.\u00a0 Her dad owned those Sunoco gas stations on either side of Winnemucca.\u00a0 I met her at the base pool on one of those \u2018Civilian Guest\u2019 days.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cMan,\u201d Tommy said, \u201cfor not having a car you sure got around.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cOK, let\u2019s change the subject, all right?\u201d\u00a0 I said, half-jokingly and half annoyed.<\/p>\n

***<\/p>\n

We made the city limits of Las Vegas around five o\u2019clock in the evening.\u00a0 Because we spent twenty-five to thirty minutes at each of our stops from Winnemucca, we were making very poor time.\u00a0 By the time we all visited the restrooms, the baby was changed, and Sharon rinsed out Ricky\u2019s cloth diapers and stowed them in the sealed metal container we kept in the trunk, our planned brief stops became extended stops.\u00a0 In addition, we found that somehow we\u2019d forgotten to pack a can opener to punch holes in the cans of baby formula, so we spent a little extra time at one of the truck stops hunting one down.<\/p>\n

After gassing up, Tommy took over the driving duties as we pulled out of Las Vegas and headed for Arizona.\u00a0 As late evening turned into night the drive turned extremely monotonous.\u00a0 About twenty miles out of town, my attempts to find anything on the radio other than static proved fruitless, and I turned it off.<\/p>\n

Sharon was curled up on the back seat sleeping pleasantly, and thankfully, Ricky was quiet, probably soothed into silence by the car\u2019s slightly rocking motion.<\/p>\n

Since Tommy had not slept at all during the morning and afternoon drive, I was worried that he\u2019d fall asleep at the wheel, and that concern was enough to keep me awake.\u00a0 It seemed like every time I closed my eyes and started to slip into a comfortable slumber, I would feel the car make a slight but unexpected swerve that would instantly bring me back into startled consciousness.<\/p>\n

A couple of times I opened my eyes and saw Tommy sitting straight up, both hands on the wheel, with both eyes closed.<\/p>\n

\u201cUh, Tommy!\u00a0 Are you OK?\u201d became the question of the night\u2014with the response, after opening his eyes wide, \u201cYeah\u2026yeah.\u00a0 I\u2019m OK.\u00a0 Don\u2019t worry.\u00a0 I\u2019m OK.\u201d<\/p>\n

Well, I was worried.<\/p>\n

When Tommy took over the driving just outside of Las Vegas, we\u2019d decided that he\u2019d take us all the way to Tucson, Arizona.\u00a0 But well before dawn I could see that Tommy was not going to make it.\u00a0 Just outside of Kingman, I asked Tommy to pull over.<\/p>\n

I had been dozing uncomfortably when I felt the car leave the paved highway and roll onto the shoulder.\u00a0 Jerking my head up I saw Tommy, his chin resting on his chest and his mouth hanging open, death gripping the steering wheel, sound asleep.<\/p>\n

\u201cTOMMY!\u201d\u00a0 I yelled, at the same time grabbing the steering wheel with my left hand.\u00a0 \u201cWAKE UP!\u201d<\/p>\n

His head popped up and his eyelids sprang open.\u00a0 I saw that, although his eyes were open, he was seeing nothing.<\/p>\n

\u201cWhat?\u201d He said, groggily.<\/p>\n

\u201cSTOP THE CAR!\u201d\u00a0 I yelled.<\/p>\n

\u201cUh\u2026\u201d<\/p>\n

I sat up on the bench seat and quickly slid to the left.\u00a0 I grabbed the steering wheel with both hands and stabilized the car.\u00a0 Although the two right tires were rolling on the shoulder, the two left tires were still on the pavement.<\/p>\n

\u201cSTOP THE CAR!\u201d I repeated, forcefully.<\/p>\n

Fully conscious now, he applied the brake and we coasted to a stop.\u00a0 Because we were on the highway\u2019s emergency lane, a couple of cars that had been trailing behind us passed us safely on the left, their occupants glaring curiously at us from their windows.<\/p>\n

\u201cShit man, I\u2019m sorry.\u00a0 I don\u2019t know what happened.\u201d Tommy said, rubbing his eyes.<\/p>\n

\u201cYou fell asleep, that\u2019s what happened!\u201d I said, a little angry and a lot scared.\u00a0 \u201cGo ahead and get out, I\u2019ll drive.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cNo, I\u2019m OK now.\u00a0 Really.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cNo, you\u2019re not.\u00a0 Let me drive for a while and you take a good nap.\u00a0 We\u2019ll switch back in a couple of hours.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cOK.\u201d He said, a bit sheepishly.<\/p>\n

As he got out and I slid behind the steering wheel, I remembered Sharon and Ricky.\u00a0 I looked back over my right shoulder.\u00a0 \u201cAre you and the baby OK?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cYeah.\u201d Sharon said.\u00a0 \u201cWhy are we stopped in the middle of nowhere?\u00a0 I heard yelling.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cTommy fell asleep.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cWhile he was driving?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cUh, yes.\u00a0 While he was driving.\u201d\u00a0 Tommy opened the passenger door and slid in.<\/p>\n

\u201cTommy?\u201d Sharon asked, pulling herself up to the back of his seat. \u201cAre you OK?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cYeah, I\u2019m fine.\u00a0 Just a little tired.\u00a0 Is the baby all right?\u201d<\/p>\n

Sharon glanced over to the bassinet and readjusted Ricky\u2019s blanket.\u00a0 \u201cYeah, he\u2019s fine.\u201d<\/p>\n

I checked the mirror and pulled cautiously back onto the highway.\u00a0 Taking a deep breath, I wondered if I could make it all the way to San Antonio without any sleep.<\/p>\n

Death Slips In<\/u><\/strong><\/p>\n

It was still dark as I accelerated the car back to highway speed, my senses still highly elevated due to the rush of adrenaline now coursing through every vein and artery in my body.\u00a0 I surveyed the car\u2019s instrument panel and found that everything was working exactly as it should.\u00a0 At sixty to sixty-five miles an hour the car purred like a contented feline, the engine temperature hovering just below the normal operating range and the oil pressure needle steady and strong.<\/p>\n

Tommy remained awake for all of about five minutes, after which he\u2019d finally rolled over to the right and succumbed to a deep and snoring slumber.\u00a0 Sharon had drawn her legs up to her chest, covered her head with one of Ricky\u2019s blankets and was also soundly sleeping.\u00a0 The regularly-spaced sound of the Bel Air\u2019s tires slapping the highway\u2019s rubberized expansion joints was inexplicably reassuring, and I settled in for a long drive.<\/p>\n

For the next three hours everything went pleasingly well.<\/p>\n

***<\/p>\n

I remember trying to focus on the hands gripping the steering wheel and wondering who they belonged to.\u00a0 Waves of gray floated in and out of my vision; I re-lived, in episodic-like fashion, the event when I broke my arm at age five, and saw my mother beckoning for me to come to her.<\/p>\n

A strange ogre-like face stared back at me from a floating oblong mirror, and I wondered why the road behind the face was racing backwards.<\/p>\n

I urgently tried to recall why Tommy needed to wake up; when I looked for him on the passenger side of the bench seat I couldn\u2019t find him.\u00a0 How did he disappear? <\/em>I thought.\u00a0 Maybe he\u2019s already driving and I just can\u2019t see him.<\/em><\/p>\n

My wife was in the back seat and it was time for her to drink her formula.\u00a0 If I could just will my hands to go of this wheel I could open a can and feed her.<\/em><\/p>\n

In the distance\u2026something red.\u00a0 It was coming closer and I knew I had to stop to see it.\u00a0 I needed to push the brake pedal but my foot was so heavy.\u00a0 I called for Tommy to help me get my foot off the gas pedal and onto the brake.\u00a0 He was there now, but he wasn\u2019t hearing me.\u00a0 I called his name again\u2026loud.\u00a0 But it came out as a whisper.<\/p>\n

The red thing was coming up fast and I knew I needed to stop there.\u00a0 My foot was on the brake and I aimed for the red thing.\u00a0 Was it a house?\u00a0 Yes, maybe–but a bright red one. And those two white columns\u2014were those long black snakes coming out of their sides?\u00a0 Odd, I dreamily thought, the house had Coca Cola and 7Up signs.\u00a0 And it was so small.<\/p>\n

The car floated to a stop next to the columns and I knew I had to get out, but I didn\u2019t know why.<\/p>\n

I pushed the door open and gray concrete with black stains rapidly came up to meet me.<\/p>\n

***<\/p>\n

My face felt cold and wet and I felt like I was drowning.<\/p>\n

\u201cDon\u2019t drink!\u00a0 I wash your face!\u00a0 Wake up!\u201d<\/p>\n

A hard hand behind my head, the inside of which hurt so badly.<\/p>\n

\u201cWake up!\u201d\u00a0 A gruff voice demanded.<\/p>\n

\u201cWake up!\u201d\u00a0 I opened my eyes and I looked at\u2026Tonto?\u00a0 I wondered where the Lone Ranger was.<\/p>\n

\u201cHey?\u00a0 How you feel now?\u201d\u00a0 Tonto asked.<\/p>\n

\u201cI\u2026I\u2026Tonto?\u201d\u00a0 Just asking.<\/p>\n

\u201cWha\u2026?\u201d<\/p>\n

A pulsing ball that had suddenly grown in my stomach needed to come out.<\/p>\n

\u201cOK, you need to throw up!\u00a0 Here, I turn your head.\u201d\u00a0 The hand twisted my head, and I smelled gas and oil.\u00a0 My body tightened up as a wave passed through it and I vomited into the oil smell.<\/p>\n

\u201cOK, good!\u00a0 You going to be good now.\u201d Tonto said.\u00a0 \u201cSit up!\u201d<\/p>\n

I reached out and grabbed Tonto\u2019s shoulder and pulled myself up into a sitting position.<\/p>\n

\u201cBreathe deep!\u00a0 Breathe deep!\u201d<\/p>\n

I gulped the cool dry air.\u00a0 I turned my head and saw a car above me.\u00a0 The door was open.\u00a0 I saw tiny feet\u2026in slippers.<\/p>\n

\u201cOh God\u2026\u201d the worried girl voice coming from above the feet.\u00a0 \u201cIs he going to be alright?\u201d<\/p>\n

It sounded like Sharon\u2019s voice.<\/p>\n

\u201cYes, I think so.\u00a0 He needs to breathe deep.\u201d\u00a0 Tonto, again.<\/p>\n

\u201cFrank!\u201d Sharon\u2019s voice pleaded\u2026sounding very scared.\u00a0 \u201cBreathe, okay?\u00a0 Do what he says.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cOkay.\u201d I said.\u00a0 I breathed deeply and things began to fall into place.<\/p>\n

My head still hurt, throbbing from my forehead all the way down my neck, but my thinking was clearing up a bit.\u00a0 I looked around and saw that I was sitting on a concrete pad outside of a small red gas station. \u00a0Tonto was not Tonto at all\u2014he was a tall Indian in a black sleeveless vest, long black hair pulled back in a braid.<\/p>\n

\u201cCome on, let\u2019s try to get you up.\u201d\u00a0 He said, as he put a strong hand under my armpit and pulled up.<\/p>\n

I felt a little woozy but was able to hold my balance.<\/p>\n

My hair was wet and water ran down my neck, giving me a little shiver.<\/p>\n

\u201cYou feel OK now?\u201d Sharon asked, her voice full of concern.<\/p>\n

\u201cYeah, I think so.\u201d\u00a0 Then, I thought about the baby.\u00a0 \u201cWhere\u2019s Ricky?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cHe\u2019s OK.\u201d Sharon said. \u201cWe\u2019re both OK.\u00a0 It was just you and Tommy.\u201d<\/p>\n

Tommy!!\u00a0 <\/em>\u201cOh, where\u2019s Tommy?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cHe\u2019s inside the station.\u00a0 I think he\u2019s going to be OK too.\u201d\u00a0 The Indian said.\u00a0 \u201cAnd call me Nick, not Tonto, OK?\u00a0 I know your wife\u2019s name is Sharon.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cOK Nick, thanks.\u201d\u00a0 I was still just a little shaky as I started to walk into the station with Nick following closely behind, his strong hand in my right armpit.<\/p>\n

Tommy was sitting on a stool with a wet shop rag hanging off his head.\u00a0 His face looked a little gray, but otherwise he seemed fine.<\/p>\n

\u201cYou OK?\u201d\u00a0 I asked as I walked in.<\/p>\n

\u201cYeah.\u00a0 Shit man, that was bad.\u201d<\/p>\n

Up to that moment, I hadn\u2019t even thought to ask what the hell had happened.\u00a0 I turned to Nick.<\/p>\n

\u201cWhat happened?\u00a0 Did we eat something bad?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cWell,\u201d he said, crossing his massive arms, \u201cI think you and your buddy got carbon monoxide poisoning.\u00a0 Your wife said you just got your car worked on.\u00a0 Is that right?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cWell, it was more than that.\u00a0 The entire engine was rebuilt and dropped into that Bel Air.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cAha!\u201d\u00a0 Nick said, shaking his head.\u00a0 \u201cMy guess is that whoever re-did the engine didn\u2019t torque down the exhaust manifold to specs and you blew the gaskets.\u00a0 That would allow exhaust fumes to seep into the car through the firewall.\u201d<\/p>\n

Not really comprehending all that he\u2019d just said, I nodded my head and said, \u201cOh.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cYeah son,\u201d Nick said, crossing his arms, \u201cI\u2019m thinking you got a good dose of carbon monoxide because of an exhaust leak.\u00a0 But I\u2019ll know better after I take a torque wrench to those bolts.\u00a0 I\u2019m betting they\u2019re loose.\u201d<\/p>\n

I had not heard of carbon monoxide in those days, but the phrase, \u2018exhaust manifold\u2019 rang a bell in my memory.<\/p>\n

During the motor rebuild back at the gas station, I remember Tom mentioning the exhaust manifold.\u00a0 We\u2019d just received the gaskets in the mail from the JC Whitney catalog and I asked him what they were for.<\/p>\n

\u201cThey go between the manifold here (pointing to the set of pipes coming out of the side of the engine) and the engine itself.\u00a0 When the gas burns and gets pumped out, it goes into these pipes and out the exhaust in the back.\u00a0 This gasket makes sure none of the exhaust leaks out.\u00a0 Of course, we\u2019ll make sure the manifold is nice and tight so the gasket can do its job.\u201d<\/p>\n

I don\u2019t recall him mentioning a torque wrench, but I found out later that the bolts holding the manifold to the side of the engine, with the gasket in between, must be screwed down to a certain degree of tightness.\u00a0 If not, then eventually the bolts will loosen as a result of being heated and cooled repeatedly.\u00a0 A torque wrench measures the tightness of the bolts it is tightening in terms of foot pounds.<\/p>\n

A few minutes later, Nick came back into the station.\u00a0 He was carrying a thick wrench about eighteen inches long with a large socket attached to one end.<\/p>\n

\u201cYep, that was it!\u201d\u00a0 He announced loudly.\u00a0 \u201cThose puppies were loose all right!\u201d<\/p>\n

So there we had it.\u00a0 Because of us overlooking a very small detail while hurriedly rebuilding the engine on the Bel Air, my wife, my child, a friend and I had almost died.<\/p>\n

\u201cSo it\u2019s OK now?\u201d I asked, just a bit concerned.<\/p>\n

\u201cSure it is!\u201d Nick proudly said, waving the torque wrench in the air.\u00a0 \u201cGot\u2019r tightened down!\u00a0 She was loose as a goose.\u00a0 If you\u2019d driven any further, the damned manifold would\u2019ve probably fallen clean off.\u201d<\/p>\n

***<\/p>\n

It turns out the little gas station was located just south of a place called Wikieup; literally a bump on the southbound highway 93, just past Arizona State Highway 131.\u00a0 It was a no-brand kind of station, painted bright red and sported two blazing white gas pumps.<\/p>\n

Nick kept insisting that we should get some kind of medical evaluation because of the amount of carbon monoxide Tommy and I had been exposed to, but when I asked him where the nearest medical facility was, he said that would be in Kingman.\u00a0 Well, I wasn\u2019t willing to travel back to where we\u2019d come from; besides, we were feeling pretty normal as we loaded back into the car.<\/p>\n

What was amazing was that neither Sharon nor Ricky had suffered any ill effects from the leaking exhaust.\u00a0 What we finally figured out later was that when I\u2019d taken over the driving in Kingman, Sharon, feeling a bit stuffy in the back, had lowered both back windows about an inch or so. Evidently that had been just enough to draft the exhaust out of the car well before they had a chance to inhale it into their lungs.<\/p>\n

After having spent a little over an hour at the little gas station, Tommy and I felt pretty normal so we decided to go ahead and press on to San Antonio.\u00a0 Before leaving we gassed up, bought a bunch of stale candy and snacks, and Sharon refreshed the baby\u2019s diaper bucket.\u00a0 We all thanked Nick profusely and offered to pay him for his exhaust manifold repair job.\u00a0 He refused, saying that seeing us all alive and well was thanks enough for him.<\/p>\n

Pulling away and rejoining the highway, we all waved goodbye; the last memory I have of Nick is seeing him waving back, his long black hair blowing in the desert breeze.<\/p>\n

During the time we were there, not one customer had pulled in for gas or anything else for that matter.\u00a0 If you look at a current map nowadays you\u2019ll see that the little generic gas stop has now been turned into a nice full-service Chevron station.\u00a0 But it\u2019s still in the middle of nowhere.<\/p>\n

***<\/p>\n

Many long hours later, we finally turned into an old, but well taken care of, neighborhood within view of the San Antonio skyline.\u00a0 Tommy guided the car along the narrow two-lane street, passing one modestly-sized wood-frame home after another before he pointed and announced, \u201cHere we are!\u201d<\/p>\n

He pulled in to a driveway of sorts\u2014two concrete strips, adjacent to each other\u2014between two houses.\u00a0 Sharon had been dozing, but Tommy\u2019s exclamation woke her up.<\/p>\n

\u201cWhere are we?\u201d She asked, rubbing her eyes and yawning deliciously.<\/p>\n

\u201cMy house!\u201d Tommy answered.<\/p>\n

\u201cWhich one?\u00a0 The one on the right or the one on the left?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cThis one.\u201d Tommy pointed to the one on the right.<\/p>\n

\u201cAre your folks at home?\u201d I asked, looking over the small house as we came to a stop.<\/p>\n

\u201cYeah, my mom never goes anywhere.\u00a0 She practically lives in the kitchen day and night.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cOh\u2026\u201d Sharon exclaimed. \u201cCooking?\u00a0 For who?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cMy dad, my brothers, sisters; you know.\u201d\u00a0 Tommy answered, pushing open the door and stepping out.<\/p>\n

Sharon pulled herself up to the front seat, and whispered in my ear, \u201cAre we going inside?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cI don\u2019t know.\u201d I answered, truthfully.\u00a0 \u201cHe didn\u2019t say anything.\u201d\u00a0 I heard the trunk being popped open.\u00a0 \u201cLet me see if he needs any help.\u201d<\/p>\n

I opened my door and stepped out into the cool but humid San Antonio evening.<\/p>\n

\u201cHey, you need some help getting your stuff?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cNope!\u201d Tommy said, as he balanced his duffle bag on the ground and pushed the trunk closed.<\/p>\n

\u201cOK, well\u2026\u201d\u00a0 And, before I could finish, Tommy shot his hand out.\u00a0 I reached out and shook it.<\/p>\n

\u201cHey, thanks for the ride.\u201d\u00a0 He said, as he shook my hand quickly.\u00a0 \u201cGuess I\u2019ll see you in Alaska in a few weeks.\u201d<\/p>\n

He swung the duffle bag over his shoulder, turned and walked up the three wooden steps leading to the porch and the front door.\u00a0 I sort of stood there watching as he put the duffle bag down and with an open hand slapped at the closed screen door.<\/p>\n

\u201cMom!\u00a0 Mom!\u00a0 Hey, open up!\u201d<\/p>\n

He turned and gave me a little smile.\u00a0 I didn\u2019t know what to do so I just stood there smiling back.<\/p>\n

\u201cSometimes she can\u2019t hear the door \u2018cause she likes to listen to Mexican music on her radio.\u201d Tommy said.<\/p>\n

He hit the door again, and this time the solid wooden door behind the screen screeched open.<\/p>\n

\u201cMijo!\u201d I heard a woman saying excitedly.\u00a0 Then a pair of mom arms reached out and embraced Tommy.\u00a0 He broke the embrace, swung the duffle bag over his shoulder and disappeared through the door.\u00a0 It slammed shut.<\/p>\n

I continued to stand there for a few more seconds staring at the door, expecting him to come back out to the porch and invite us in.<\/p>\n

The right rear car window rolled down and Sharon asked, \u201cWhere did he go?\u201d<\/p>\n

As I was about to tell her that he\u2019d just gone into his house I heard the wooden door close and the sound of a deadbolt slide into place.<\/p>\n

And that was that.<\/p>\n

I stood there a few more seconds believing that Tommy would eventually come out and invite us in to meet his mom, but that didn\u2019t happen.\u00a0 The door stayed closed.<\/p>\n

Ricky started crying, and Sharon rolled the car window shut.<\/p>\n

I walked around the back of the car and slipped into the driver\u2019s seat.\u00a0 Ricky was now in full voice.<\/p>\n

\u201cHe needs a change and I need to feed him.\u201d\u00a0 Sharon said as I slammed the car door shut.\u00a0 \u201cWe need to find a gas station if we don\u2019t get invited in.\u201d<\/p>\n

I glanced longingly towards the closed doors, hoping to see them swing open again.\u00a0 But that didn\u2019t happen.\u00a0 I turned the key and started the car.<\/p>\n

A few minutes later I saw a small gas station and pulled up to the pumps.<\/p>\n

\u201cOK, go ahead and take the baby to the restroom while I gas up the car.\u00a0 I also need to check the oil.\u201d\u00a0 I said to Sharon, trying to talk over the baby\u2019s wailing.<\/p>\n

\u201cAll right.\u201d\u00a0 She answered.\u00a0 \u201cCan you go in and see if they\u2019ll let us use their coffee pot warmer so I can give Ricky his formula?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cSure.\u201d\u00a0 I helped her get our screaming and kicking baby out of the bassinet.\u00a0 \u201cI\u2019ll go in and get the key to the bathroom.\u201d<\/p>\n

While I was filling the car I checked to see how much money I still had.\u00a0 The crumpled bills and the assorted coins added up to less than ten dollars.\u00a0 But I figured that that would be enough to get us to Houston, and once there I\u2019d be able to cash the Air Force travel funds check that I\u2019d been given before I left Winnemucca.\u00a0 I planned to leave the majority of that money with Sharon and take just a few dollars with me on my bus ride to Seattle.<\/p>\n

The gas pump popped off and I hurried into the station to pay and ask to use their coffee warmer.<\/p>\n

About an hour later we were eastbound on Texas Highway 90.\u00a0 The baby was sound asleep and Sharon had moved up to the front seat.\u00a0 We\u2019d hardly spoken since leaving San Antonio, both of us deep in our own thoughts.<\/p>\n

Finally Sharon said, \u201cWell, that guy turned out to be an asshole.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cTommy?\u00a0 Yeah\u2026\u201d I said slowly.<\/p>\n

\u201cHe hardly spoke after the first hour, and didn\u2019t say anything for most of the trip.\u00a0 Then on top of that, you had to do most of the driving because he kept falling asleep.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cYeah, I know.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cThen I can\u2019t believe he didn\u2019t even have the decency to introduce us to his mom, or even ask if we wanted to come in for a while.<\/p>\n

\u201cYeah, I don\u2019t know what that was all about.\u00a0 I guess he was just glad to be home and forgot about us being there.\u201d<\/p>\n

Well, it\u2019s good thing that it\u2019s gonna be you and not me who\u2019s going to spend the next year with him.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cYeah\u2026\u201d I said, and wondered what the next year would be like for us.\u00a0 Although our little family would be apart for a whole year, I was somewhat comforted in the thought that Sharon and the baby, or babies in a few months, would be fine as they\u2019d have my parents looking out for them.<\/p>\n

Unfortunately, and to my complete surprise, it wouldn\u2019t be long before that particular situation would deteriorate and spin completely out of control.<\/p>\n

To be continued\u2026<\/p>\n

<\/p>\n

\u00a0 <\/em><\/p>\n

<\/p>\n

<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"