His old pickup was bouncing us along the dirt road and creating more dust than speed. I hitched a ride with him because I needed to get into town, but this thing was shaking my bones loose. I didn't have a spare ribbon, but I can see now it would have been smart to have one on hand. Peggy's General Store didn't stock typewriter ribbons, but she always ordered one for me. I was hoping this was one of the times she had one in the storeroom.
The loud popping noise startled us and then smoke or steam came pouring out from under the truck hood. The driver pulled over to the side of the road, mumbling something in Spanish. I figured I would be walking from this point. He got out and lifted the hood. He was not sounding happy.
I couldn't just sit there and wait, so I got out and as I walked past him, I waved a polite, thanks anyway, and started hoofing it down the road. As I walked I was thinking about the possibility of anyone else coming along to pick me up, and of course I was trying to work out the details of the story I'd left unfinished back in my typewriter.
I had set the story in the future, maybe 2024. I had two people climbing up the side of a mountain. One was higher up on the cliff than the other, there was a storm approaching and suddenly they lose contact with each other. That's when my ribbon gave out.
I looked back down the road. There wasn't anyone else coming along. This was going to be a long day.
1 comment:
I remember that day! I was only 14!
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