Galveston

                                                        On To Galveston



     Robert and I had just got off a fishing boat in Pensacola,  a little forty eight footer called the Wayward Wind.  We shared up less than thirty dollars for a fifteen day trip and were not enthusiastic about finding another trip right then.  Neither of us had families to support and we had no obligations. As we walked along a drizzly South Palafox Street we discussed the immediate future. I thought I would go back to Panama City and Robert didn't know what he was going to do. I at least I had relatives to go to. Robert only had his mother out west somewhere and he did not get on well with her. We wound up in Pappy's Reef, a waterfront beer and wine bar, drinking coffee. We were underage and the bartender knew it so beer wasn't an option. After a while he told us we would have to leave because the police made regular rounds and would drop in soon. We were not illegal because there was no beer in front of us or in us but the cops would give him and us a hard time if they saw us in there.
    After we got out the door Robert said, "You know,  I oughta go see Edie." Edie was his mother.  I didn't expect that because the last time he had seen her was when she threw his clothes out her front door and told him he didn't live there anymore. But that was when he was a rebellious kid of fifteen. He was grown up now at nineteen and thought things would surely be different.
    "Where you gonna go? Where's Edie?"  I said I guessed I would go back to Panama but I really didn't want to.   Then he said Edie lived in  Galveston and maybe I should go out there with him.  I thought that over for a minute. "Okay."
     It was already dark when we started out but we didn't have any place indoors to sleep and the wet weather discouraged us from sleeping outside so we washed up in a gas station and changed into the one set of clean clothes each of us carried in our bags, mine in a backpack, his in a canvas sack. Then we walked four blocks over to Garden Street and stuck our thumbs out heading west on Highway 98 toward Mobile.
     A truck stopped for us and we were on our way but it only went a few blocks. Then an old man in a Ford took us out west of town where we stood until late in the night. At least the rain had stopped. We were damp but not getting any wetter. An old Chevy station wagon with a sloppy repaint almost hit us pulling over to offer us a ride and the three people in it looked a little drunk. We said sure we would like a ride.
    When you are hitchhiking you take whatever ride comes your way and trust to God it will get you on down the road okay and the driver isn't too weird.
     In the car were two young men and a woman. She looked and sounded Mexican. The guys were rough looking skinny fellows who hadn't shaved in a while. The one driving asked if one of us could spell him at the wheel. I had a license so I said I could do that. He replied that was great because he was having a hard time with it and Bubba here couldn't even stand up much less drive.  The three squished over to the right in the front seat, the guys with the woman on their laps, because there was no sitting room in the back. The car was full of what looked like a crib and other furniture and boxes of stuff behind the front seat. Robert was tired and crawled on top of the junk in the back and went immediately to sleep. I got behind the wheel and drove.
     A few miles down the road our benefactors started getting rowdy. The two men were all over the senorita and each other and it was making me nervous but I wasn't going to give up a ride and besides, Robert was asleep and when Robert slept there was no waking him up until he was ready to wake up. So I just drove. After a while Bubba pulled a little .25 Raven out of his pocket and shot a hole in a speed limit sign. That made me a little more nervous and I really wanted to tell them, "Well here's where we get off, thanks for the ride," but Robert was asleep.
     At some point it occurred to me that these folks did not go together with the household stuff in the back of the car, especially the baby crib and I figured they must have stolen it. So here I am with my buddy unwakably in the back, driving a stolen car across the Alabama line and these car thieves were not trying to be discreet, shooting their little pistol out the window and all.
    Bubba popped his gun at another sign and I suggested gently that maybe he oughtn't to do that. He seemed to take offense and demanded, "You got a problem with that, hah?"
    I said no offense but the sound was startling and made it hard to drive. He said in that case he wouldn't do it any more.  We rode on through the night  and I was wishing Robert would wake up so we could get out of this car.  I  was  worrying seriously about our  immediate prospects when Mike said hey, he hoped we wouldn't think we had to tell anyone about our little ride. Then I really started to fret.
    We were coming up on the Bankhead Tunnel under Mobile Bay and I got a thought. I asked Mike (Bubba and Maria were asleep) if he wanted me to be slow and careful or was he in a hurry? Mike said they were in a helluva hurry and I should get on down the road real fast. I thought maybe I could attract a police car and end this thing with some protection. I sped up to over eighty miles an hour. I thought to go a hundred but that old Chevy wasn't up to it.
    In those days there was a "flimsy" at each end of the of the old two lane tunnel, a drop down gate that was just a one-by board painted with diagonal red and white stripes. The flimsy was down as we approached and the speed limit was thirty five. There was no other traffic so I wasn't being too rash and I wanted to attract attention. I broke off the flimsy at seventy and kept my foot to the floor all the way through. Surely I had got someone's attention and a cop would pick up on me at the west end of the tunnel.
     It didn't happen. I drove through the streets of Mobile as fast as I could make the Chevy go, running some red lights and sliding around a couple of turns. The nighttime streets were mostly empty and wet from the light rain that was falling. We passed a couple of cars and I saw three or four pedestrians but saw no flashing red or blue lights, heard no sirens.
     Out west of Mobile Robert stirred in the back. I called to him to make sure he was, indeed, awake. He was. Bubba and Maria were now awake in the front and Mike was asleep. I took a deep breath and said, "Well Bubba, me and Bob are going down to Bayou La Batre and we get off up here at Theodore.  Are you okay to drive now?" I hoped I was signaling to Robert that something was abnormal and he shouldn’t speak up, by calling him “Bob.” He normally did not permit anyone to call him Bob without a fight or at least a poisonous look .    
     Bubba said he just needed a cup of coffee and got a thermos out from under the seat and drank what I assume was coffee from it. He offered it to me but I said I didn't drink the stuff. Then he said he would prefer for Bob and me to stay with them into Mississippi. I tensed up a bit but decided we had to get loose from this adventure as soon as possible and if there were to be a problem getting away from this crew we might as well have it early rather than later. A few minutes after that we came to Theodore and I slowed to a stop at the intersection of the road going south. I hoped Robert wouldn't question getting out here rather than further up the road. He didn't. I stepped out of the car with my bag and Robert's bag and Robert crawled out of the back. We thanked our benefactors and wished them well and I hoped Bubba wouldn't decide to shoot us or something.

     Mike said thanks for driving and the senorita got sick in the car. It was  a good time to get out. Robert and I walked a few steps southward along the crossroad as if we were indeed going down to Bayou La Batre. Bubba put the Chevy in gear and drove on west.  I told Robert he didn't know what he had missed. When the car was out of sight we walked back across the intersection and stood there waiting for another ride.