Another August, with a Best Friend (395 hits)
Category: GeneralRating: 1.8 on 11 reviews (Rate this item) (V)
Submitted by calbearspolo (View user info) at 2006-08-31 20:46:22 EDT
I have spent many hours, over many years, in the passenger seat of my buddy Chris' car. We have traveled up and down California together in the name of swimming, water polo, bad blind dates, and good times over long weekends. His taste in music was always a bit different than mine, but never enough that we couldn't listen to whatever the other tuned in on the radio. It could be a classic radio station, or maybe the drug addled harmonies of a euro-progressive band, but it was always pleasant, at least, to both.
On one occasion, I distinctly remember the warm air rushing past my ears as the sun began sauntering into the embrace of the hill covered horizon. It was a warm day, but not unpleasant, and I reached my hand out the window of the car as we cruised down the highway, letting the wind push it up and down as I curled my fingers. I am sure it looked rather childish to anyone who may have even noticed, but lazy summer days are prone to surrendering to our inner immaturities and I wasn't going to pretend otherwise. In my left hand was a bottle of water that I would drink from occasionally, letting the cool liquid bubble out in big gulbs and gulping them down with a hearty TV advertisement styled "aaahhhhhh" afterward.
Chris was busy dodging through traffic, eager to shave 13 seconds off his best time from San Jose to Berkeley, a 50 mile trip, in some seemingly never-ending competition with himself to get wherever he was going in the least amount of time humanly possible. He was pretty good to, using shoulders and on/off ramps if they served his purpose. It was both humorous and horrifying how deftly he would sneak his jeep between two other cars, then swerve around a third before cutting off a semi. I often thought that he should take up a job as a taxi cab driver in Rome, especially when he would take corners on two wheels, never breaking from his intended path.
I had long given up on trying to get him to be reasonable about his driving habits, it would just never happen. You figure things out about people after knowing them long enough, that some things will never change. I, instead, resigned myself to sit back and relax deep into the comfortable foam and cloth of the bucket seats and enjoy the wind that his mad rush back to our apartment created with my little hand dance.
It was kind of like trying to get him to drink orange juice. I don't know when, and I have no idea how it started, but somewhere along the line Chris refused to drink orange juice. Just didn't like it. Probably the only person I have ever known who didn't. He was a huge fan of breakfast, by the way, eagerly piling on butter and syrup to his armful of pancakes, or flamboyantly mixing his eggs and hash browns with his bacon when he would wake up in time to make them. He would eat with great gusto, relating some old story I had heard a hundred times before as he grinned and let bits of potato drop from his mouth. It would get so bad that I would outright laugh at him for being such a slob, pointing at him and trying to keep MY orange juice from squirting out my nose. But it was always a glass of water that topped his plate.
He always kept his hair a lot longer than mine too, which was funny, because as he drove around like the maniac that people would call at him (especially those who were trying to share the road with him) it would fly into his face obscuring his vision temporarily. He would then swear, snap his head back, and lean over the steering wheel to regain his composure. Typically his next move would be to turn slightly, cock his head a bit and grin at me. The bastard was actually enjoying risking both our lives like this, and I was lazily allowing him to do it. My mom would be so proud.
Every so often one of us would break the silence with a comment or a question about something inconsequential and light-hearted. These were the times that we probably learned the most about each other, come to think of it. After living together, going to school together, and practicing together every day for years, it was hard to truly act out of the ordinary or in a way that wasn't somewhat prescribed, yet it was the innocent questions and comments that gave each of us a slight window in to the other's racing mind. Much the same as taking a snapshot of a dream sequence and letting someone else see it.
It's a little odd thinking about dreams, because Chris and I shared a bedroom at various points in our college careers and I shutter to think about how many I had verbalized while deep in slumber. In much the same way, I knew what a sick and dirty jackass he was, so I guess we were even in the end. We know so much dirt on each other, it's best to not think about it too hard.
So it was no surprise to me when Chris' hair got in his eyes again. He yelled "fuck" right on cue and used his hand to help sweep it back behind his ears. As he turned to grin at me he said: "We'll be back in less than fifteen, you got plans tonight?"
"Yeah," I grinned back at him, "I am having popsicles with a girl."
"Cool." And with that, he turned up the volume to a timeless song by the Grateful Dead.
"...what a long, strange trip it's been," the radio mused.
User Reviews
Submitted by livEvil (user info) at 2006-09-01 12:21:08 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
Submitted by UnderOathMeal (user info) at 2006-09-01 08:26:42 (#)
Ranking: 1
I really liked this from a structure and flow perspective.
But ... needs more Voltron, debauchery, philosophy or murder.
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It also needs more turtles, drugs, cheese & shameful events.
Submitted by Brdn_Nkd (user info) at 2006-09-01 11:43:56 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
No Comment
Submitted by UnderOathMeal (user info) at 2006-09-01 08:26:42 EDT (#)
Ranking: 1
I really liked this from a structure and flow perspective.
But ... needs more Voltron, debauchery, philosophy or murder.
Submitted by ripple (user info) at 2006-09-01 00:44:05 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
its funny how universally meaningful the very act of driving with a best friend can be- after a car ride late the other night, going no where special, smoking djarums and listening to (oddly enough) the grateful dead (among other bands) i was very tempted to write something similar to this. but you beat me to it. ill save it for another time, or wait to post.
nice writing. really struck a chord.
Submitted by Jeanneee (user info) at 2006-08-31 23:11:32 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
Submitted by SPECIALk (user info) at 2006-08-31 22:59:07 (#)
Ranking: 2
I hate orange juice
Submitted by paint_it_black (user info) at 2006-08-31 23:04:35 EDT (#)
Ranking: 1
SO....
Then he died in a fucking car accident or what?
Submitted by DonovanMD (user info) at 2006-08-31 23:01:19 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
This was good, and a little weird. Which may have led to it being so good.
Submitted by SPECIALk (user info) at 2006-08-31 22:59:07 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
I hate orange juice
Submitted by JMG114 (user info) at 2006-08-31 21:29:56 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
Nice.
Submitted by calbearspolo (user info) at 2006-08-31 21:04:27 EDT (#)
Ranking: 0
Submitted by PerkMan (user info) at 2006-08-31 20:59:48 (#)
Ranking: 2
this was good. But you could be gay.
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Could be, after all I do live in San Francisco. But then again, I like women; so I've got that going for me, which is nice. =)
Submitted by PerkMan (user info) at 2006-08-31 20:59:48 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
this was good. But you could be gay.