Mason City (753 hits)
Category: Quotes & StoriesRating: 1 on 9 reviews (Rate this item) (V)
Submitted by Schwarzes_Glas (View user info) at 2004-08-11 13:00:38 EDT
When I was 17, I wanted to go to St. Louis with my best friend for spring break. I hadn't ever had the chance to go on a REAL excursion on my own. Saigon Kick was playing, and I thought it would be my only chance to see them due to their often empty concert seats (don't fucking knock them 'till you heard them - there's much more besides "Love is on the Way").
Anyway, I couldn't. My parents wouldn't let me. Pissed me off too, because my buddy Keith's parents said OK. Instead, we decided to go to Mason City, IL for his grandmother's 152nd birthday party. At least I could be on my own. I had a 71 Cutlass I was working on, and it would be a great blowout.
Mason City is a town of 2500 people in middle-south IL - about 30 minutes from Springfield (180 miles south of me). Anyone who knows IL will agree with me when I say it's DEEP south(ish). Parts of IL are real shithole cracker towns.
background on the car I was driving: It was a 71 Cutlass SX. It had a 455 cubic inch engine with over 160K miles on it. It rocked - yet it wasn't totally fast due to low compression and high mileage. You can say it was a "tired" 330 horsepower car - a project car. Although, it did talk the talk - I had put an exhaust system on it that sounded fantastic.
So the day of, Keith and I woke up late. We were supposed to be there before noon, and we woke up at 10:30. We ended up arriving late, but we did get there in just over two hours. That's an average speed of 90MPH (with stops).
With those flat roads and Nebraskaesque nothingness, it wasn't hard to hit high speeds going there. About 30 miles outside of Mason City - IL Route ELEVEN - we passed through a town called New Holland - population 250. 250 fucking people. I knew this stupid trip was going to suck ass.
So we get to Mason City, and of course, we're instantly the center of attention - mostly due to the car: two "city boys" in a bright blue (and loud) musclecar rolling through town. We spotted a few hyped up trucks, some low riders, a red Stang. Small towns - they always have/make the time to beef up their rides.
We go to the funer... birthday party as planned, and I sat there all nice, pretending I was interested. Afterwards, we planned to cruise the place and possibly attract some easy hilrod chicks.
The party finally ended, and we headed out. It was probably around 7pm. We drove around the town and through the corn at speeds around 120 (the Cutlass had a very low gear in the rear end (.256). This means that it was slow off the line, but loved speeds over 90. The original owner used the car to smuggle illegal alcohol between South Carolina and Canada so he needed the top end speed).
Once it started getting dark, we went back around town. The highlight of the town was a four way stop directly in the middle of it. At this four way stop, there was a small movie theatre (probably playing "Top Gun" for the first time), and a few stores. It was well lit up and all the youth of the town hung out there. Keith and I had heard "some really interesting tales" of the lively "four way stop" from his father, so we knew it was going to be "kicking it live" shortly.
Circling the town, we saw a few other people our age. Of course, all they were doing was driving around. One guy had this bigass black pickup truck with the spotlights on the top, and an intercom system attached. We followed him around, and listened to him talk through the thing. We saw a few other pickup trucks, and periodically saw that red Stang.
Coming around to the four way stop, we noticed it was FULL of people - most of whom were waiting to go to the movies. Most of them were really young, but we still had to leave an impression. I stopped dead in the streets, and did a huuuuge burnout to showboat. The place rip roared into applause - it was cool.
So we take another spin around the town, and we spot two girls! They're hanging outside of a convenient store with some dude. I tell Keith I'm going to pull over and "check the oil" - as an excuse to stop. So, I pull into the place, pop the hood, and we kicked off a conversation with these girls. As Keith maintained this conversation, I checked the oil as planned - there was none. Now, for those of you who don't know, high mile engines can burn serious amounts of oil, and unless due attention is paid, the engine can seize. I knew my car burned oil, but damn - I'm lucky I stopped. I went into the convenience store and grabbed some 10w-30.
These girls turned out to be really nice people. The guy that was hanging around was this fatass, bald, house-of-pain looking cracker. We stayed and talked to them awhile, but it turns out they had to go home due to a curfew. Once they brought it up, Everlast was like "C'mon, I'll give you a ride." Of course, my bigass mouth said "Why don't you ride home with us?" and they anxiously accepted. The guy got into his Grand Marquis and took off, noticeably angry. I thought nothing of it.
So, we drop the girls off. Nothing happened, just some casual conversation and we left. We headed back towards the center of town.
In a town like that, it's not hard at all to notice you're being tailed. I checked the rearview, and the headlights looked "Ford." I quickly realized it was a red Mustang, and he was definitely following us.
So, we pull over to see what the fuck he wanted. He pulls up next to us - tall, skinny guy, glasses, alone. He was driving a 90-92 Mustang, heavily modified - the kind that have a tendency to walk all over my tired Cutlass back home. He says "Hey, you almost hit that guy - what's your problem?" and before I had the chance to tell him he was full of shit, this other guy is AT my window.
"You almost hit my fuckin' brother. What the fuck fuck fuck fuck..." the guy starts going OFF. He's about 6ft, long blonde hair and a scraggly beard. Yet, he's also the stoner type - baggy pants, chains from ears to lips, jailhouse tats. Intimidating, but nothing I haven't seen. A week later I found out he just got out of the klink for attempted murder, and had also been tried for murder (confirmed).
He had gotten out of a grey Grand Marquis behind me, and I was pretty sure there were others in it. Immediately, I started talking. I've used my mouth to get out of a few (outnumbered) sticky situations. It's not a matter of backing down, it's more so letting the accuser know of your superior intelligence, without apologizing or intimidating.
"I didn't see shit man. Not a soul. And I would have."
"Well, my brother is in the car behind us. I want you to apologize to him."
"I'm telling you. Why on earth would we take the chance in a town we are not familiar with? Come on man, YOU know what I'm talking about. If you were in my town (you'd get your fucking ass kicked BITCH) you'd do the same. You'd mind others turf, and you'd treat us like men. You wouldn't deliberately start shit unless you were a complete fuckin' moron, am I wrong?"
".... That's cool... maybe we've got it wrong-"
"Anyways man, what's up with your friend's Mustang? What's he got in that thing?"
After some small talk with the freaker and the Stanger, they left and everything was cool. Uneasy but cool. Keith and I were alone again.
We drove past a gas station - .95 a gallon. Now, we had about a quarter of a tank, so we didn't NEED gas, but something told me to stop and fill up- especially at that price.
Once we pulled out of the gas station, we decided it was time go to back to his grandma's place and call it a night. It was probably around 12:30am (about 20 minutes after our encounter with the townsfolk).
AGAIN, we have a tail. And of course, it's the Mustang. I stupidly pull to the right side of the road to see what the fuck he wants. Out of nowhere, the black pickup crosses in front of us and comes to a halt, the Stang gets next to us again, and the Grand Marquis gets behind us. We were trapped.
I counted 12 getting out of the pickup, the Stang had 5, and who knows how many were in the Grand Marquis. All I know is over 20 people got out and surrounded my car.
This little fuckin' pussy cracker says to Everlast (everyone was in the crowd) "are these the ones that took your girls home?"
I say, "Look. BULLSHIT. THEY wanted a ride home with us. I've had about enough of you fucks."
I then see the glint of knives, and the crude mass of wooden baseball bats. Each one of these fuckers is packing. They had a whole arsenal of melee weapons loaded in the back of the pickup. This was the first time my anxiety turned into pure fear.
Last thing I heard was, "Well shall we?" before I hammered the gas, and pulled right - onto a yard. I went directly through some guy's lawn, and winged one of the guys with the back end of my car - spinning him like a top. It took a few seconds for him to get up and for the rest to pile into the pickup & Marquis, but the Mustang was on my ass once again.
"Dude, you know we can't stay here tonight. If we do get away, and I leave my car at your grandma's, it'll be in shambles by the morning," I told Keith. He agreed completely, and we decided to head back to Chicago.
We drive 3 blocks in a square formation to get back to the road out of town - the Mustang up our ass the whole time.
As I'm approaching the four way stop, I see headlights coming down the sidestreet to the left of me. The pickup was headed straight for us, on a "T" angle, yelling some shit over his loudspeaker. I hit the gas again, and pulled ahead of him by about 3 feet. Because he was headed for us at full force and missed, he went careening into somebody's yard and into their bushes. Keith said he saw people fall out of the truck.
So I fly through the stop sign at the four way, and there isn't anyone around. An hour or so earlier, the place was packed. Now, it was lit up, and completely empty. Not a SOUL.
I hang a right onto the main road with the Mustang still tailing us. Before I know it, the fucker passes us, and is in front of us. We're both going about 40MPH.
I quickly realize that his goal is to slow us down. By now, we're about 3 miles out of town, and I can see two pairs of headlights catching up to us in the rearview. Every time I move to pass this prick in front of us, he sways to that side. Each side of the road lays a 6 foot drop, so there isn't any room to pass on the grass. 3 miles outside of town; in the middle of nowhere. No streetlights, no people, just black.
My hands are glued to the wheel. I remember they even started to cramp. I fake left, then right, then left again, and floor it alongside of him on the right - halfway off the road. When I made this move, I HOSED his car with gravel - completely showering it.
Now it's me and him. Both of us are pouring the coals to our automobiles. We stayed even for about 5 seconds, and then I took the lead - not letting up at all. Right now we're going about 120, and I hear his engine revving HIGH. Ha - that .355 Mustang gear performs like SHIT on the top end compared to my rum-running .256.
We're soon approaching the town of New Holland, speed limit 30, going about 145MPH. I didn't slow up at all, and passed through that town in about a second. I remember thinking how fucking funny would it be for some old bastard farmer to be sitting out on his porch enjoying the solitude, while two punks in a blue Cutlass fly through his town in a BLINK going 140+MPH.
We continued at that speed for another 100 miles. It didn't take us long to get home that night. Of course, if I hadn't checked the oil, I would've gotten an oil light on the road (which would've forced me to stop). I also would've run out of gas. I kept bats in the trunk, but Keith and I wouldn't have had a chance out there on our own. They could've done whatever they wanted with us.
A week later, Keith's grandmother sent us a letter detailing the "hell" we had left behind us in "her" town. And how we need to "grow up" and "act our age."
My Cutlass has since been restored. I'm moving into a new apartment soon, and I'm putting it up for sale due to lack of Winter storage. I'll never forget that car, and what it did for me. This was one of three sticky situations it had gotten me out of successfully.
Those fuckers in Mason City may think they've beaten us. They may still think to this day that they were victorious that night. I beg to differ. I'd like those fools to have a picture of the front of my car, because they've only seen the back.
User Reviews
Submitted by Chronicles_of_College_Guy (user info) at 2005-01-02 17:19:32 EST (#)
Ranking: -2
No Comment
Submitted by StonedSilly (user info) at 2004-11-20 21:09:32 EST (#)
Ranking: 2
Hey, you wouldn't happen to have AIM or MSN, would you?
Hit me up:
AIM - harmlessness
MSN - ecarocker01.at.hotmail.com
Submitted by Banga3386 (user info) at 2004-10-12 15:22:59 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
Banga likes crackers getting owned
Submitted by keirzty34 (user info) at 2004-10-12 15:08:45 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
best post ever.
Submitted by RickJames at 2004-08-11 19:47:44 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
No Comment
Submitted by goatasskilla (user info) at 2004-08-11 16:41:48 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
Excellent!!!!!!
Submitted by Cryopaul (user info) at 2004-08-11 14:14:11 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
Awesome story.
Submitted by Schwarzes_Glas (user info) at 2004-08-11 14:10:25 EDT (#)
Ranking: 0
hmmmm.... black with a confederate flag license plate. Right.
Submitted by kai070169 (user info) at 2004-08-11 13:18:17 EDT (#)
Ranking: 1
You forgot to mention that you are black. Stay away from the white women, homie!