The Laurel-Crowned Princess-Prologue
My red '66 Impala looked incredible under the morning sun. I had just buffed and waxed the paint, and traded the oversize wheels and tires for stock equipment the day before.
The Impala was loaded to the gills with all my possessions. Even my old motocross bicycle fit squarely in the trunk, the only car that ever had a trunk big enough for it to fit without having to adjust the handlebars.
That morning of December 1988 was one of those sunny, windy and cold West Texas-approved days. All my finals were done and everybody was either completing their their own finals or trying to get out of town like I was for the holidays.
Even with no radio I could almost hear a Stevie Ray Vaughn soundtrack as the West Texas Plains disappeared behind me.
It was really no surprise to me that it broke down 2 and 1/2 hours in New Salem later that day.
After all, the car did burn oil pretty badly.
Oh well, it was a fun drive while it lasted.
Spending the night in a truck stop hotel, I reflected on what I was leaving and anticipated what might be in my uncertain future.
A truck driver very appropriately sang sad country music on his guitar in a neighboring room.
In my immediate past I had just ended a grueling semester at school, both personally and educationally.
In my immediate future my dad was coming with his van to get me and the Impala and tow us back to Beaumont.
Basically, I was going back home to live with my parents and to go to school in Beaumont.
Can failure be anymore disgraceful?
"You gotta know when to hold em,
Know when to fold them,
Know when to walk away,
Know when to run...."
At least there was a freshly painted Fiat Blue and White 1957 Chevy station wagon waiting for me back home.
In the meantime I went to the desert to reflect on what had happened....
Go To Chapter 1