Good Morning Home and Harth,
After the story bashing received from the bumptious Jack Wagon and those that rode it I was reluctant to retrieve part II from the ‘dust bin.’ However, when I consider the overwhelming support from so many of you, I felt vindicated. JJ`s shunning aside, I decided to risk it posting the story anyway ignoring his negativism. So to continue:
As we trucked back to Colorado it was clear the sleep deprivation, strain , and confined quarters quickly manifested itself. For some reason Cush began to chain smoke barely cracking his window filling the SUV with cigarette smoke. Being a reformed smoker I’ve never been one to openly denigrate those that continue to smoke and would rather display my largess by politely inhaling the second-hand smoke. Well that particular civility went right out the window with the toxic fumes. I continued to politely ask Cush to at the very least limit the number of times he lit up. But as usual it fell upon deaf ears; lighting one cigarette with the butt of the finished fag; never giving me a break. I had to fight back. So each time he fired up I’d roll my window completely down blasting us both with 80 mph of frigid air! Cush clad only in a tee shirt screamed like a little girl. Ironically my wide open window drew the acidic vapor toward me but that wasn’t the issue! My actions were all about punishment even though I was caught up in its delivery! Cush’s selfish behavior brought it on and now we were locked in a match of wills. Turning an odd shade of blue our stubborn associate blinked first. He promised to limit his filthy habit to one per hour which I readily accepted immediately shutting the window. What I failed to take into consideration is Cush’s ability to justify his reneging in the face of promises made and fire up his 2nd fag in 30 minutes locking my window from passenger-side use! I’ll never forgive him for that! BASTARD!!
Being self-medicated presents its own set of issues particularly when riding ‘shotgun.’ As most adults know ‘shotgun’ carries with it a big responsibility. Not only are you the navigator, but you’re also the disseminator of food and drink, facilitator of bowl loading, clipper of roaches, and sundries that all too often are forgotten! It is in this capacity I fell a bit short. In my desire to be perfect I didn’t notice the Green River Police squad car perched atop an overpass using an old radar gun. I believe it’s the only police car the city owns, but vital to the local economy as a ‘Money Tree.’ By the time we noticed the flashing lights he was on top of us with little time to air out the car. Cush began to pull over, but I screamed at him to keep going until Mary Jane was able to make her escape; again enjoying the bitter cold.
Officer Osgood approached Cush asking for his license and proof of insurance. Almost bleeding out of my eyes I averted my gaze just in case faint traces of ‘Hemp’ lingered green-lighting the inevitable search. Fortunately Officer Osgood was late for lunch and ticketed Cush for going 85 mph in a 65 mph and wished us a ‘nice day.’ Cush was not only pissed, he was no longer in the party mood kicking himself for his lapse of concentration. My friends in spite of Cush’s bad luck, it was the only time Cush had nothing to say! I enjoyed two hours of complete silence!! It was wonderful to just gaze into space lost in my own thoughts. It’s such a simple pleasure.
As we flew down the canyon Denver loomed into view causing me to enjoy an involuntary sigh of relief–it was finally over! I literally felt all stress and acrimony dissipate. I put back the letter-opener I was going to kill Cush with feeling guilty about my intentions, but because of the kindness in my heart, I decided to forgive him.