Tuesday July 15, 1986
Nick is shotgun in a ‘78 Country Squire wagon driven by Dean Eversole.
Danni had called Sunday afternoon to pitch one of her magic adventures, a church trip to Six Flags over past St. Louis. Nick could ride with them in the Land Yacht (her term) if he sprang for his ticket at a group rate and brought some foldin’ money for meals, and maybe chip in some for gas? Surprisingly Tim didn’t try to angle himself in this time, seems he’d been trying to get in time with Trina Pugh lately, good luck, Nick didn’t think anyone was in her league. For reference, Trina was the subject of Nick’s daydreams of being stranded on a desert island and the only thing she had to wear happened to be pastel-green panties he’d seen in the Sears catalog.
But back in the present, Nick was given choice of seating since he and Dean are the only males in this group, and his gut went for the open road and good view of the arch, as opposed to the awkwardness of being the only male in back. Plus, Dean is agreeable company really, he doesn’t press or preach much, and the banter now and then is pretty easy, plus plus, Nick is even trying his hand at somewhat corny humor now and then, for better or worse.
Well, mostly worse of course.
He had heeded his mom’s advice and dressed for the weather and water rides, leave the billfold at home, keep your money in a Ziploc bag, skip the socks and keep the laces TIGHT.
Not long after they get onto 70 he gets a note and a pen.
“How’s the air up there?”
Nick grins and thinks for a second. She ended up way in the rear with Beth, whom Nick had met once, and a rather enchanting, dark-featured Susan, complete with a strong vibe, which is just what he needs today. Nancy, Sam and one of her gal pals from church fill out the middle seat as a much quieter buffer zone from all the cackling back there. Surely this note will be fodder.
He writes, “Not so bad now but not sure my deodorant his holding up. Later on we’ll all be craving pizza,” then passes it back to Nancy with the same wry grin.
About two beats later he hears a familiar laugh, then a snort, then harder laughter, and on it goes. Surprisingly he doesn’t get the paper back as the morning becomes day and the windows are cracked further now. Actually his deodorant situation is not much concern as he’s wearing a muscle shirt - although that term is loosely applied in terms of his physique.
Dean fishes around the dial of the Aeronutronic dual-bander and settles on some MOR/oldies, which the gals in the rear third join in on now and then. Nick probably dozes off to this a couple times until Nancy leans forward, “Honey can we find a drug store or something? Sam is a little queasy.”
“I think Vandalia should have something.”
And so Nick is prone to stare out his side window, hopefully this queasy situation doesn’t escalate, and the possibility is a tad unnerving. He’s never sure if it’s worse to be surprised by sickness or have to worry about it. For some reason he turns back to look at her, Nancy had wet a hanky to dab her forehead, Sam sees him looking and smiles, so he throws her a wink. Now facing the road ahead is a lot easier.
And before long the road ahead brings them to a trusty KMart, they park among some free spaces further out and soon as the engine is off the fifth door opens and Danni’s Angels jump into action, then Dean opens his door,
“Nick I’m gonna check under the hood while we’re here, wanna stretch your legs?”
And so they both hop out and Nick gets a gander at the doghouse, 400 cubes of blue power.
Dean checks the oil, “Yeah she can pass anything but a gas pump, but at least we can hold our own on the highway.” Deej had mentioned they like to give rides to church, something Nick found all to familiar.
The hood slams as the trio scurries back their way, trying to keep on time and arrive by 10am, and so they take their seats and strap in. Pretty soon the gaggle returns to the rear deck, the rear door shuts as Dean starts up in getaway fashion.
Nick relaxes in the ample bench seat as he hears a box pop open, and feels relief as Sam should be chewing a Bonine or whatever. Thankfully Nick had never suffered from motion sickness per se, although sometimes his head will feel weird after a series of tight hilly curves.
His thoughts are interrupted by a tap on his shoulder and sees Nancy holding a travel-size Secret deodorant stick,
“This is from Danni.”
He turns around to look at her giving the ‘expectant’ look, echoed by two faces from the Peanut Gallery, and Sam and her yet nameless companion whispering together.
Speechless, Nick just shakes his head, shrugs, pops off the cap and applies it while eyeing DJ between swipes, closes the lid,
“Thank you, dear,” then tosses it back her way, then turns around rather than watching for a reaction.
“Eww it’s got HAIRS on it now!” DJ whines knowingly.
“You’re welcome,” Nick offers, which gets a surprising laugh as a payoff of sorts, feeling for once like he’s at least caught up with her, not that he expects that feeling to last long.
At the next exit there’s a white building with no windows and a shielded parking lot, with a huge sign, the inevitable ADULT BOOK STORE - MOVIES, and in smaller lettering, PRIVATE VIEWING BOOTHS. Surprisingly Dean doesn’t call this out but Nick can’t help but remember walking to school with Tim and some other characters a while back when someone mentioned that the private viewing booths are so you can wrestle with One-Eyed Jack. At first Nick whimsically pictured some muscular, rugged cyclops ready to go to the mat but couldn’t see how that related, until one evening a few months later in the bathroom when confronted with the relevant activity and it fell into place, making it difficult to concentrate, and so it goes.
And then, for whatever reason this brought back the time Tim riffed on the Sunday School song where the devil could sit on a tack, except sit on his sack, a rendition which thankfully came about many years after he would have blurted it out at church and condemned them all to fire and brimstone.
So Nick turns to the window and chuckles to himself as things calm down, although little by little, increasing signs of civilization come and go, some large AM antenna farms, a sense of established industry, and finally, the Old Man Miss and the eternal Arch, which Nick hadn’t seen since they went camping over this way a while back. Large cities are always too much to take in at once, how he wishes he could see what KSHE-95 is playing but even a walkman would seem out of place, with this group, at least. KSHE will have to wait till the next time he swings the antenna around on a good day. Plenty of radio billboards cause him to resist the urge to request something to write them down as he would have done in earlier years.
* * * * *
The day had gone as expected, Nick walked with the Three Amigas and usually next to the Deej, especially in the flume ride where he was at the back and she leaned against him as though it were a daily occurrence. But then, she just had to ask him what he’d been grinning about here and there and so he reluctantly related the lore of Jack and the Sack, after which she sat up, leaned forward as if suddenly remembering something to ask Beth, and, from then on, seemed more distant than she had been since they met.
And so, Nick was fine to resume his shotgun seat and doze off for most of the quiet ride home.