Ol' Bessy

Round here we just call it a Saturday night.

A country boy sees a city girl across the parking lot. With nothing to lose, Bobby struts over and asks her if she wants a ride in his truck. To his surprise she says yes, she hops into his truck smiling. They head for the woods, twenty minutes later they arrive at his chosen destination.

An ‘87 two-toned red and grey primer square body jacked-up Chevy 4x4, nicknamed Ol’ Bessy, crests the hill of the rugged dirt road, stopping at the top. Bobby turns to Jennifer, her eyes wide, staring down the steep incline, a muddy bog at the bottom stretches out across the valley. This has to impress her.

“I don’t know about this.” Jennifer’s silky black hair covers half of her face. Her eyes darted between Bobby and the muddy pit below. Bobby reaches across her lap and jerks the harness, the belts wrinkle her yellow frilly blouse and her shoulders sink.

“It’ll be fun. I promise.”

Bobby revs the engine, a deep rumble rocking the Chevy side to side.

“When you asked if I wanted to go for a ride, this is not what I expected.” Jennifer’s voice raises two octaves, grabbing her chest as it heaves.

“Hold on!”

The clutch drops, the truck lurches forward. The wail of the motor sings its golden song. Gears grind as he slams his eight-ball topped stick shift into second gear. 20 mph–30mph the engine whines out, Bobby grabs third gear, tires rip through gravel. Halfway down the hill, the river of mud looms. Jennifer lets out a frantic scream. Bobby chuckles. The revs climb, 40mph-44mph, Nitto Mud Grabbers plow into thick gooey mud, sheets of muddy water spray, looking like Moses parting the Red Sea. The cab plunges forward and whips back, the tennis ball on the antenna smacks the windshield. The mighty Chevy barrels through the spongy drenched earth.

“Slow down!”

He glances over at Jennifer’s pale face and wide open mouth only to laugh.

“We slow down, you’re walking in this mess.”

Jennifer’s crimson fingernails claw into the duct tape patched blue vinyl seats. Her knuckles whiten. Another shriek comes. Mud splashes the windshield, wipers losing the struggle to keep the glass clear, brown smears and streaks arc over each side. The rhythmic swooshes drown out her high-pitched pleas.

Tires fling mud as they approach the other side, speed dropping. Bobby gooses the pedal, a violent lunge forward as the truck hops. Rpm’s run wild, driver and passenger bounce up and down. The truck breaks through, hitting dry land hard. Bobby jerks the wheel, holding the clutch down. The old Chevy spins, gravity weighs down hard as they spin a full circle before he drops the clutch and propels forward. Bobby brings Ol’ Bessy to a halt. The motor purrs, Jennifer blinks and turns to Bobby.

Though her breathing is rapid and short, she lets out a yell. Not one of terror, but more like excitement.

“You okay?”

Bobby reaches across the console to take her trembling hand. Her yell turns to laughter as she catches her breath and blurts out.

“That was fun! Can we do it again?”

The edge of her lips reach back to her ears, her pearly whites beaming, a keeper after all. Bobby revs up the engine and they head for the top of the other side of the valley to go back through the mud bog.