Saturday, August 8, 2015
The respite at Echo Valley was much needed. The Getaway Drivers stayed nearly a year, working on the farm and keeping out of sight. But they were restless and needed to get back on the road. Saying goodbyes on that spring evening was hard, but summer loomed and there was work to do and money to make. They had lost Tom and Dan during the winter. Tom found his one true love- a woman from Chicago who seemed to know what he was thinking before he said it. They moved on to a quaint small town fond of troll statues and settled in a new old house with some of the dough we'd made. Dan took up revival preaching full time, having discovered a new talent. Steve had traded the van for a Winnebago off in town. He fired it up and off went was was left of the gang towards Wildcat Mountain. With Steve at the wheel, they plunged down the narrow dark highway as the sun set. As the the mountain appeared like a Mordor shadow in the star-filled sky ahead, Sheila said, "Hey, what are those lights, and did that star just, like, move?" Little did they know what was going to happen next.
Friday, August 19, 2011
The revival was bank. No had one expected that instead of the 'Drivers playing a show, Dan would have to give the impromtu sermon of his life. Sheila and Tom had passed the collection plate around not once, but twice after the "speaking in tongues" incident. Gail and Greg finally figured out whatever they were tinkering with in the engine compartment, and near midnight The Getaway Drivers finally pulled out of Texarkana and found themselves hurtling north on I30 towards a town called Hope with a garbage bag full of cash in the back. It it wasn't long before they noticed the flashing red and blue lights in the rearview. Someone at the revival figured out they'd been taken for a hoax. Bob cursed and took another pull from the Soviet era flask Steve had given him. He flicked a switch acitivating the hydrogen carborator his cousin James had installed on their last trek north. The van lurched forward, rattling like a space shuttle on it's last flight, and the police lights receded into the night. They would hit Little Rock by 2, then Memphis, then north on 55 all the way to Echo Valley. They had a show to do and this time among some hippie friends who wouldn't mind using a little of that cash for supplies. The 'Drivers would be only to happy to oblige for a chance to hideout for a while.
Friday, August 12, 2011
With each rise and fall of Dan's voice, the spiritual agitation grew, and the night wore on, hot and sweaty. The crowd pressed closer, mezmorized by the cadence and reverberations coming from the guitarist's mouth. Tom and Sheila hung toward the back, collection plates in hand, waiting to strike at the most opportune moment. Back at the van, Gail and Greg were jimmying something under the hood while Barbara listened intently, sucking hard on her smoke. Suddenly, Dan's words didn't make sense. A murmer rose through the crowd and grew to an undecipherable cacophony of speech Barbara had never heard. People wept. Hands were raised, forgiveness given, and finally the exhaused worshippers collapsed. Tom and Sheila struck with the collection plates, and Dan disappeared. As he ran up to the van with this guitar case, Barbara looked at him suspiciously: "What the HELL was THAT?" she said. "Don't ask. I don't know what it was, but let's get out of here..."