Crash Test Dummy

Chapter 10

"Slow your roll, man," Clarence said. "What gave you that idea? I told you to ask your Dad."

"I did, but he wouldn't tell me. He said if I knew where it was, it'd be rebellion bait. I thought maybe he told you. You're the adult, the one who's suppose to be immune to the rebellion bug."

Clarence laughed. "No one is immune, Bud. Look at Jonah."

"Aw, man, you're not going to start preaching to me, too, are you?"

"Naw, just making an observation. Your Dad wants what's best for you. He'll let you in on his secret in due time."

"Four whole years! That's how long he's going to make me wait, until I can legally get a license."

"Maybe not. Maybe if you show him you're not a Crash Test Dummy, he'll tell you sooner."

"Crash Test Dummy?"

"Yeah, your Dad said the young guys who come to prison are usually mad and acting out. They keep doing things against the rules and getting caught. They get thrown into lockdown, a place just above isolation. Instead of being in a dorm, they're in two man cells, and all privileges are revoked.  They usually have to stay for at least three months. When they get out, they stay clean for a week or two, flash out over some perceived slight and end up back on lockdown. He said they're just immature. Prison lingo dubs them Crash Test Dummies."

"I'm too smart to get caught."

"Are you now? I think a two month grounding is the free mans equivalent of lockdown." He laughed. "You don't have to be young to be a Crash Test Dummy, though. Your Dad said he was one for his first couple of years behind bars, and he wasn't exactly wet behind the ears."

I turned red at Uncle Clarence's reminder about the grounding. "I learned my lesson." I was emphatic. "I'll not get caught again."

"That's what all crash test dummies think."

"I'm not a CTD." I punched each word like a roofer hammering a nail home. "You'll see," I ground out. Then realizing I sounded just like a CTD, I cooled my jets and added in a less ominous tone, "Anyway, what else did Popz say?"

Uncle Clarence got up from the table. "Let's bounce. We'll talk while we're on the move."

As we drove to putt putt, he continued, "He said that he's starting college in January. He had to bone up on his math and grammar to pass the entrance exam, but he passed on his second try. He took the prison version of remedial math and English after he failed the first test. He said to tell you he wishes he had your brains. He had to take pre-Algebra, and he's afraid Algebra is going kill him."

"Man, if Momz would let me go visit him, I could help him with his homework. I can do algebra equations in my sleep."

"It's a new angle to try." Uncle Clarence glanced over with a grin. After parking, he reached across me and took a package out of the glove box. He handed it to me. "Your Dad made this for you."

Inside was a wallet. CW was tooled onto the front. On the back was a guy on a Harley.

I ran my fingers over the imprint. "Bad ass. But why a guy on a bike when he won't give me the key."

"Maybe the guy on the bike is Paul, or maybe he wants to remind you to save your money for when you're 18." He laughed. "Bike upkeep ain't cheap."

We got out of the car and selected our clubs and started banging our way around the course. We weren't either one much into putt putt, but it was a place where we could talk.

"So if you didn't come to church to butter Momz up, why'd you show?" I asked as my ball bounced off of a windmill blade and ended up back at my feet.