It was May 5th... I was driving back to Pittsburgh after spending some time in California, and why I took the southern route instead of that dull and boring I-70 through the heartland, I'll never know, but there I was, just moseying along I-40, my hands tapping the steering wheel to the rhythm on the radio... had to keep rollin'... (little poetic license there; still thinking about my last Twisted Tune, don't ya know!) ... when all of a sudden my usually reliable Jeep Cherokee started coughing and spitting and chug-a-lugging. It finally coasted to a stop on the edge of the road near the exit ramp for a little town called El Reno, and wouldn't you know it, Murphy's Law kicked in. Not a soul in sight! And it was a hot day, too. And this was before cell phones were invented.
So... after waiting for the white smoke from under the hood to go away, I tried to start my Jeep again, and it just wouldn't turn over. Lots of idiot lights lit on the dashboard, though! I popped the hood and one look was all I needed to know that I was pretty much fucked... up the creek (or "crick" as we say in Western Pennsylvania) without a paddle... water and oil laying in puddles all over the place... a blown head gasket for sure. But, like I said, I was very close to the exit ramp for that little town, and I could see the sign for a Shell station. It wasn't so far to walk... yeah, right. I should've stayed on the pavement instead of trying to short-cut it by walking through the field, but me thinking the shortest distance between two points is a straight line and all... Anyway, after I got myself out of that ditch I fell in halfway across that field, and made it back to the road and walked to that Shell station... yep... Murphy's Law. They really should've put that "for sale" sign in a more prominent spot!
But, it was early enough, and I could see the tell-tale indications of civilization down the road from where I stood looking at an empty Shell station, and so I tossed my Marlboro Menthol Light 100 on the abandoned tarmac... the gas pumps were gone, so I figured it was safe enough... and headed into the little town. Sure enough, there was a service station... a couple, actually, and one of them was indeed a Shell, so that's the one I picked. Why? Beats the shit outta me... maybe I thought it was a good omen, or something. Told the guy what happened, rode with him in his tow truck (not knowing he was charging mileage) all the way back to the last exit I had passed before I broke down so he could turn around and come back to get my Jeep. Why he didn't just cross over the grass medial strip, I don't know... (maybe because he was charging mileage!)... Anyway, he got my ride back to his garage, told me what I already knew... blown head gasket... and told me also what I really didn't want to know.
"Ah, well, ya see Mr. Lentz... this is a major repair here. And I don't keep these parts in stock. But, we got a Jeep dealership in town... I can get the part, but this is going to be an all-day job with the labor and all..."
And to think I thought I was done with Murphy for the day...
"But, I tell ya what, Mr. Lentz... if ya don't mind hanging around til tomorra, I'll have her ready for you, oh, say about noontime."
Well... seemed like a nice little town to take a break in, and, well... what else could I do? The old guy directed me to a nice little hotel just down the street; even called ahead to make sure they had a room. Even gave me a ride, even though a couple of blocks wouldn't have killed me. So, it wasn't so bad. But it was still early enough in the day, and I didn't feel like laying around in a hotel room watching t.v., so I headed out to explore the town. It reminded me of those towns you see in those western genre movies or television shows. Except that the main street was blacktop with lines painted on it instead of dirt. There was an actual saloon, though... with the batwing doors... neat! And, yep... cowboys! Just like in the movies, except instead of horses tied to a hitching post, there were lots of pickup trucks parked in those angle parking spaces. A nice little town.
So, I went into the saloon (almost expecting to see a bunch of gunslingers playing cards and shooting someone for cheating!) and had a nice lunch and a couple cold beers. Played some pool, but even that got boring after awhile. I got up to leave, but stopped in mid-stride halfway to the batwing doors. It was weird. Like a premonition or something that I was being followed. Know what I mean? When I turned around, there was nobody there; I mean no one standing behind me. But still, I could smell a faint aroma of some really nice perfume. Girly kind of stuff... and that was weird, because there weren't any women in the place, and I hadn't smelled it until that particular moment. It was just there. Like there was a woman standing there. And then, after convincing myself that I was imagining things, I felt something brush against me; like a person would accidentally bump into you on a sidewalk. Talk about goosebumps! Whew! And that's when things really started getting weird.
Whoever said ghosts don't walk around in broad daylight obviously doesn't know much about ghosts! And I'm sure if I had looked in the mirror behind the bar that day I would've seen my summer tan turn just as white as a ghost, too! Why I didn't piss my pants that day, I don't know, but before I could convince myself that it was just a hallucination, the presence I felt brushing up against me appeared in front of me... kind of translucent, you know? It was a woman, dressed in those old-fashioned clothes... what do they call them... hoop skirts, or something like that. You know what I'm talking about... the kind that Miss Kitty wore in Gunsmoke. She just stood there looking at me. Then after a couple minutes, she just went through the doors, and I mean, right through them... the way ghosts do. She motioned for me to follow her, and me being kind of dumb and disbelieving... well, I followed her.
