Freedom

A True Story: Escape from injustice and tyranny

car story: Freedom and Darkness
A True Story by John Shea

It was a Tuesday night in the dead of a Vermont winter. I had been feeling sick that day and had taken some Nyquil in expectation of bedtime about 10 minutes before the phone rang, sometime around 11 pm. On the other end was my friend Arin – she had a problem. The rogue tow truck mob of Vermont had absconded with her white Mercury Sable station wagon and wanted a $50 dollar liberation fee. The scoundrels had some kind of deal with the authorities that allowed them to tow anyone not conforming to their extremist views on parking. In retrospect, I admit they were probably justified, especially knowing Arin and her driving skills, but in those days our sense of injustice was high, so we decided to take action.

The plan was simple. The tow truck mob kept their pirated booty in a lot behind an otherwise innocuous looking gas station. The lot was protected on all sides by a fence, and the only opening was guarded by a chain that was kept locked at all times. All times, that is, except when one of the drones delivered its prey to the mother lot. We would sneak into Arin’s car and wait for a truck to come. With the chain unlocked we would make our escape. Our plan was sound, our cause – just. We headed for the lot.

When our friend dropped us off it was just before midnight. The wind whipped up from the lake and went straight through my bones; I was sure that even the stars were frozen. Arin and I jumped the fence and immediately took our criminal posture, creeping low to the ground in search of the great white station wagon. Luck was on our side and we found the beast parked only few spaces from the dense chain that lorded over our escape. We unlocked the car and entered. All the windows were completely frosted over so I climbed into the way-back and scraped out a tiny peephole while Arin made one up front in the windshield. Now it was time to wait. The Nyquil began to take hold and in the slow passing moments the strangeness of our situation really sank in. There I sat, barely able to keep my eyes open, hiding in a captured station wagon in the very heart of enemy territory, as the bitter wind whistled past the car and through the hearts of all that it met, bringing despair. The situation seemed suddenly bleak. Although I could not hear them, I knew that somewhere church bells were ringing midnight.

Suddenly the lights were on us. We crouched down to hide from the glare that would illuminate our deceit, sure that we were done. Visions of crowbars, heavily greased fingernails, and German Shepherds raced through my brain. Why had I done this? Was this to be my inglorious fate? How would my family react when they learned that I had been maimed or even killed in some demented car reclamation scheme? Suddenly the thoughts were broken by a serge of diesel and a tow truck trundled through the now open gate.

Arin and I looked at each other and realized this was our moment. We both began talking very fast at the same time. It had been decided earlier that even in my Nyquil impaired state I would drive due to Arin’s aforementioned total lack of driving skill. I was talking out loud telling myself to be calm, move deliberately. As the truck began to lower its catch we realized that this was our best chance. I started the car. Lights on. Time began to speed up. The peephole I had created on the rear window was useless so I put myself in the hands of fate and gunned the car into reverse. Through the frost on the windshield I could now see freedom floating before me like a cloudy dream. I didn't hesitate. We flew through the gate and by the gas station where people innocently pumped gas, unaware of the momentous drama unfolding before them. At this point the crazed babble speak spiraled upwards into delirious shouting and yelling. We flew onto the empty street, past the blinking yellow lights, screaming our way into freedom and darkness.

[Please note that all materials on the MOSA web site are copyrighted by the creators and authors, and may not be reproduced in any form without permission.]