The author, during a writing symposium at Rutgers University, meets a 45 year old New Jersey mother of three daughters in a local bar. Over a period of three nights she tells him the story of the time she went to visit her sister in Texas, when she was 27. While there her sister suggests a road trip where they cruise some bars to see if they will get lucky. In a small town they run into a motorcycle gang that takes them for a joyride then kidnaps them. For four days Joan and her sister Katie understand what the expression "Hog Wild" means.
It began innocently enough, an early dinner with one of my colleagues. After I asked Frank if he would like to stop at Rocky's, a local bar where I stopped earlier in the week. Reluctantly he agreed but left after one drink. I talked with the bartender for awhile, hoping some women might come in. Away from home for a long enough period to make my hormones home I was in need of some sensual R&R. Business was slow and it looked like another disappointment in a strange town until the door opened and an attractive brunette walked.
I remember looking at my watch; it was 9:35. She was dressed in mid-length tan shorts and wore a sleeveless dark blue top. At about 5'6," the woman had a great figure and gorgeous legs that were complimented by her thin strap sandals. As she walked toward me her breasts, which filled her blue top agreeably, bounced a beguiling jiggle; I would say they were 36Cs. As she neared I could see hazel kind that were absolutely clear. But she had a sour look on her face, like she was pissed off. Two stools away from me, she sat down.
The bartender knew her. "Trouble at home?" She nodded. "What can I get for you Joan?"
"Scotch and water," she said. "Make it a double."
I couldn't pass up what I considered to be a prime opportunity. "You look like you have the weight of the world on your shoulders," I said to her.
She looked at me with disdain. Turning her head to the mirror she took a sip from her glass and mouthed the words, "You son-of-a-bitch."
I thought she was talking to me. "I'm sorry," I said. "I didn't mean to upset you." She didn't respond.
Feeling the need to justify my presence I continued, "I'm attending a writer's conference at the university. She sipped again, still fixing with her angry eyes. Having struck out completely I ordered another drink, figuring I would make it my last. Rocky brought my drink. When he put it on the bar he rolled his eyes toward the woman. Out of the corner of his mouth he said in a whisper, "This time she's really pissed."
"At me?" I whispered back.
"Nope, at her husband, they get into it a lot. She comes here to get away from him. If I were you pal, I'd hang in there. It could work for you." He went back to chore of organizing the bottles and restocking the bar.
I was thinking about what the woman and her husband might have been arguing about, apparently more deeply than I realized. I almost jumped when I heard, "What kind of stuff do you write?"
"Pardon me?"
"What do you write...stories?" Her demeanor had softened a bit...must have been the scotch. She was on her second one.
"I write poetry, short stories; I'm currently working on a novel."
She looked around as if she didn't want the bartender to hear as she said, "I've got one for you."
"A story?"
She nodded, "...a true story that would knock the socks off your readers. Do you want to hear it?"
She slid off the bar stool, picked up her drink and headed toward a booth at the back of the room. I followed. "I was twenty-seven at the time," she began, "...had been married seven years. I had three daughters, Judy was six, Jacki five; Kristina was three and a half."
"You had your kids in one quick string, didn't you?"
"Yeah, that was one of the problems, plus the fact that my husband was being an asshole. Anyway, my mother suggested that I get away...go down to Texas for a couple of weeks and visit my sister Katie. She was twenty-five and still single...had a couple weeks vacation coming up. Mom offered to take the kids for a couple of weeks. I jumped at the opportunity."
"Katie lived near San Antonio," she continued. I got there on a Monday night. She took me to see some of the sites. We visited San Antone, went to the Alamo, did all the tourist stuff and went to a couple of bars but were turned off by the prospects—nothing but wimps. She lived in a one bedroom apartment; we shared the bed—we had always slept together as kids. It wasn't the same though. We needed to find separate beds, somewhere."
"I got married young," she said, "had three kids real quick. My marriage got terribly stale; we'd been married for seven years. Katie and I have always talked, at least a couple times a week. Katie told me about the guys she had been dating, two of whom she had been fucking. I was jealous as hell of her freedom. She was doing exciting things. I was raising kids. I told her how much I wished I had what she had."
Giggling, Katie said, "You just need to find some horny stud that will fuck your brains out."
"I laughed, I thought she was joking. She laughed. We both laughed almost 'til we cried. I cried and she hugged me until I had no more tears. She was pretty serious with a guy in town, a guy whom she said she wasn't fucking. He was a pretty religious guy whom she ended up marrying. He wanted to hang around with us but Katie told him that she and I were going to spend all of our time together...that he would have to find something else to do while I was there. She even told him we might take a little road trip. He was cool with that. He was so clueless."
"Here's what we're gonna do Sis," Katie said. "We'll pack a few things and hit the road tomorrow. There are a lot of little towns in Texas. We'll drive for a few hours and start cruising some bars. There's got to be some horny guys out there that would be willing to sacrifice themselves for your sanity. I'm a bit horny myself and could use a little sex."
Joan told me how they left on their trip about ten the next morning that her sister just bought a new mustang; painted red with a black racing stripe down the hood. Along the way they stopped at an outlet mall and spent a couple hours shopping and grabbing a bite before getting back on the road. "We drove 'til about four, until we saw a road sign that said Gushing Springs."
It was a small town, probably about 2000 or so people. There was a grocery store, a drug store, a gas station, a small hardware store and a bar, The Chopper. It had a big old maroon sign hanging over the door that was cut in the shape of a Harley Davidson with chopper handlebars. "Let's check it out," Katie said. "If nothing happens pretty quickly, we'll try the next town."
"I remember saying," Joan said, "What do you expect we'll find here Katie, some cotton farmers?
She shrugged her shoulders and laughed, saying if it was a bust we could tool to the next crossroads. If that didn't work they could just go to Austin.
"I guess I was getting cold feet so I told her that we were both big city girls that shouldn't be wasting our time in such a hick place."
"Don't be such a snob Joan," she said, "I've told you about the truck driver I met that has stopped at my place on his way through New Braunfels. He's fantastic."
