Wyatt's "Rummage Sale Extravaganza" was a town-wide event held each summer, and my mother attended it with a religious fervor. She would jump in the LTD and head into town early in the morning so she could be the first one there when people opened their sales, and she would dicker like a pro when it came to getting an item for the lowest price.
It was Friday morning, a week after the Plan "B" incident at The Dead Zone, and Mom was off on her annual pilgrimage to the yard sales. I didn't go with her on that first trip, but when she came home just before noon, she told me she had purchased a nice old cedar closet for next to nothing, and wondered if I could help her fetch it home with my truck.
After lunch, we climbed into my pickup and I drove her back to Wyatt. When we got to the place where Mom had bought the closet, there were dozens of people combing through all the stuff strewn across their front yard. The cedar closet was in the row of items that lined the driveway and I pulled in and parked next to it.
We got out and I sized it up, lifting one side slightly to test the weight. "Woof!" I said. "We should have brought Dad along."
"I'll go see if the proprietor will be able to lend us a hand," Mom said as she started toward their garage.
While she was gone, I decided to look around. I had never been an avid attendee of rummage sales, but seeing the wide variety of items that this particular yard had to offer, I reasoned that there must be something there for just about everybody. I spied a pair of pink, fuzzy dice, the kind people used to dangle from their vehicle's rear view mirrors, and when I saw the twenty-five cent price tag, I figured they would be the perfect accessory to my old truck.
A minute later, I saw a car speaker in the middle of the yard, sitting between a pile of board games and a rusted old basement jack. It was just one lone speaker, and I thought it looked similar to the one Mike and I had inadvertently crushed the previous week. I picked it us and examined it, but it didn't seem to have a price tag.
About then Mom showed up with the owner in tow, and he said he would help us load Mom's cedar closet into the back of my pickup. I held up the car speaker and asked him if he knew what its price was.
"Make me an offer," he told me. I stood there wondering how much it would be worth, when he said, "Everyone keeps asking if it works, which it does, but since I have no way of testing it to show them, nobody wants to take a chance on it." He reached for the speaker so I handed it to him. He looked it over and commented, "This came out of the Buick two years ago, when its mate stopped working. I bought a new pair so that's why this is just a single speaker." He handed it back to me, saying, "Nobody wants to buy just one. I'll tell you what, if you've got a use for it, why don't you just take it. I'm tired of seeing people pick it up and set it back down, and when the rummage sale is over, I don't want to store it back in the garage."
"So I can have it for free?" I asked.
"Sure," he replied. "Your mom bought the closet, so I'll throw the speaker in as a bonus."
I thanked him, then remembering the fuzzy pink dice I was holding, I fished around in my pocket and handed him a quarter. He took the money and laughed, saying he was glad the fuzzy dice were going to a good home.
"I'm not so sure it's a good home," I wise-cracked, ""They'll be hanging from the mirror in that old rust heap!" and I gestured to my truck.
He smiled and told me, "I'm confident they'll dangle there with pride!"
He helped Mom and me load the closet into the back, and we headed home. I was tickled that I had found a possible replacement for Mike Scholl's mashed speaker and looked forward to giving it to him later that evening.
By the time I was ready to go pick up Ronnie that night, Dad and I had wrestled the cedar closet off my pickup and into Mom's craft room. I jumped into the truck cab and saw the fuzzy pink dice lying on the seat where I had set them earlier. I thought Ronnie would get a laugh out of them, so I took a moment and strung them over the inside mirror. The car speaker that I hoped would replace Mike's crushed one sat on the floor near the shifter.
One last check in the mirror and I was off. In a couple minutes I was at Ronnie's and as I got out of the truck, she came out.
Almost immediately I noticed that she was not wearing my old necktie as a headband. The tie had come to symbolize our special relationship, and seeing her without it made me wonder if she was still upset with me from last week. I didn't want to appear insecure, but I determined that I would try to find an innocent sounding way to ask her about it.
She came up to me and I kissed her on the cheek. She smiled sweetly at me. "How's your day been?" I asked her.
"Pretty good," she replied, "And yours?"
"Productive," I told her. "I helped Mom bring home a closet from a rummage sale. And while I was there, I found a couple treasures myself ... check out what's hanging inside the truck."
Ronnie peered into the cab of my pickup, then shrieked with delight. "Pink, fuzzy dice dangling from your mirror! God, they must be almost as old as the truck is!"
I nodded and then said, "Speaking of dangling things, I couldn't help but notice that my tie isn't dangling from your head like it usually is." (Yeah, I know it wasn't real smooth or subtle, but I tried to make it sound as casual as I could).
Ronnie reached up to her hair and said, "Well, I was going to wear it tonight ... you know I always want to wear it when I go out with you ... but Mom thought it was looking grungy and asked me when it had last been laundered. When I told her never, she insisted that it go into the washing machine."
"Oh, okay," I said with relief. "I was just wondering, that's all. No big deal."
Suddenly a distressed look crossed Ronnie's face. "Oh, dear!" she blurted out. "I never thought ... is it made of silk or something that isn't supposed to be washed?"
"Nah," I told her, "I'm not sure, but I think it's made from some sort of polyester." I shrugged and said, "If it gets wrecked in the washing machine, I'll just give you another one. I've got a million of the old things."
"But I like THAT one!" Ronnie said. "Oh, I do hope it'll come out okay." I assured her that it would.
We took off for The Dead Zone with Ronnie sitting close to me. Sporadically she would reach out and bat at the fuzzy dice, causing them to swing back and forth and make her giggle.
When we got to the races, Sarah was waiting for Ronnie with the standard offer of a beer. The girls hugged and laughed and began to chat. Sarah gave Ronnie a quizzical look and said, "Hmm, there's something about you that's different tonight ... "
Ronnie told her, "It's my headband. I'm not wearing it 'cause it needed to be washed."
"My gosh!" Sarah exclaimed, "It's been like forever since I've seen you without it! It really makes you look different!"
Ronnie reached up to her hair again and said, "I know. I almost feel naked without it."
I told Ronnie that I was going to go find Mike and give him the replacement speaker for his car's stereo. I excused myself and went back to the truck to grab the speaker. I looked around and soon found Mike's blue Chevelle parked near the knoll where the giant firecracker had been set off last week. He was there talking with Jumbo, and they greeted me as I approached them.
"What 'cha got there?" Mike asked, looking at the speaker in my hand.
"I found this at a rummage sale this morning," I replied, and I handed the speaker to him. "I was wondering if you could use it to replace the one we squashed last Friday night."
"Thad, this is awesome!" Mike crowed, and he held it up like he had just been handed one of the
Crown Jewels.
"Don't get too excited just yet," I told him. "I'm not sure if it works or not."
"Let's see!" Mike said, and he strolled over to his car and popped open the trunk. In a moment he had the speaker wires attached and he went to the front seat to switch on the radio. The music came through nice and clear from both speakers, and exiting the car, Mike gave me a high-five. "This is great!" he said to me. "How much to I owe you?"
"Nothing, I told him, "I got it for free so I can't very well charge you for it."
"You got it for free?" Mike raised an eyebrow. "For real?"
"For real," I confirmed.
Mike grinned at me. "Thad, if there's ever anything I can do to return the favor, let me know."
"Now that you mention it," I slowly said, "Maybe there IS something you can do for me."
"Just name it, Thad, and it's as good as done."
I peered into the back seat of Mike's Chevelle and noted that the reserve cases of Plan "B" soda pop had been replenished. "Would it be alright," I asked him, "If occasionally I sneaked a can or two of pop out of the back of your car? I'm not really much of a beer drinker."
Mike grabbed my hand in an enthusiastic shake and said, "Thad, you help yourself to as much pop as you want anytime!"
So I reached into the Chevelle and took a can of Pepsi. I thanked Mike and headed back to where I had left Ronnie and Sarah.. I found them standing near the side of the highway where most of the kids had started to gather.
Soon Jumbo and the first two contestants headed south toward the starting line. Moments later we heard Jumbo's starting pistol and saw the two hot rods take off, barreling our way. I made my usual offer to put Ronnie up on my shoulders so she could see better and she readily agreed.
What I didn't realize was that we were standing close to a small maple tree, and when I lifted her up, a low hanging branch brushed against her. It didn't hurt her , but she was startled by it and she accidentally dropped her can of beer.
"Oh, dear! I'm sorry, Thad," she apologized. "Did it spill on you?"
"No," I replied. "Well, maybe a little got on my shoes, but it's no big deal. Are YOU okay?"
"I'm fine," Ronnie said, "It just caught me off-guard. When I get the chance, I'll have to go get another beer."
"Do you want me to get you one now?" I offered.
"In a minute," she told me. "Let's finish watching the race first; they're almost here."
We looked out toward the finish line and a few seconds later the two racing cars blasted past us. The two competing were Corey Smith in his hopped-up Nova and Eric Phillips with his blue Mustang. Not surprisingly, Corey won, but to his credit, Eric's 'Stang kept it close.
Everyone cheered. I bent down and let Ronnie get off. "I'll go get you that beer now," I told her.
"Thanks, Thad. You're a dear!" she replied sweetly.
I turned and headed for the beer tubs as the racers pulled into the meadow and parked. Corey got out of his Nova and walked over where Ronnie and Sarah were standing. He saw me and waved, then struck up a conversation with the two girls.
I continued on and soon found the icy beers in their galvanized tubs back over by Mike Scholl's car. I picked out a cold one and stood there a minute, looking about. Mike had stepped away from the area and there didn't seem to be anybody else there who I knew.
I was ready to head back to Ronnie when I spied Jerry Grossman coming in my direction. I started to skirt wide to avoid him, but he seemed to home in on me.
"Stick, how're you doin' tonight?" he called out to me in an unnaturally friendly voice.
I eyed him suspiciously. "I'm fine," I said in a slow monotone, "And the name's Thad, not Stick."
"Oh, yeah. Thad," Jerry amended. "Say, Thad, I wanted to tell you ... I've been thinking about how me and you didn't hit it off so good at first, and, well, I'm here to apologize." He extended a big hand toward me and warily I shook it.
I smelled a rat, but I wasn't sure what he was up to. "Apology accepted," I murmured.
"I tend to be a competitive sort of guy," he went on to explain. "That's why they made me captain of the football team. So when I heard about that big ol' Mercury engine in your pickup, I naturally assumed you had come to race."
"Yeah, well, the old truck's got some issues, so I don't race," I said cautiously.
"And I understand that," Jerry said, making me ever more suspicious of his motives. "If you don't feel like you've got a chance of winning, then why try?"
"Yeah, something like that, I suppose." I turned to walk away.
"Hey, Stic - uh, Thad," he said, "I've got a proposition for you."
Every nerve in my being was on alert, but I turned back and faced him. "And what would that be?" I asked evenly.
"As I was saying, I'm a competitive guy," he told me. "To me life is a series of challenges to be faced and conquered, one after the other. I like to meet life head on, take the bull by the horns, if you will."
I thought to myself that I was listening to a lot of bull, but I silently nodded and he continued.
"So the other day I was saying to myself, what would Stic - er, Thad be interested in? Since you don't want to race, what is it that keeps you coming out to The Dead Zone?"
"Ronnie and I are spectators," I said. "We like to come out and just watch the races."
"Exactly!" Jerry said in a way that told me I'd soon be getting to the truth of what this conversation was all about. "You and RONNIE come out to watch ... you're not interested in racing. You're interested in girls!"
"Just one girl," I corrected him, "Just Ronnie."
"And who can blame you?" Jerry said eagerly. "She's just about the hottest thing around. A guy like you snagging a babe like that ... you must be in seventh heaven!"
It was a back-handed compliment, but I wouldn't have expected anything else from Jerry, so I accepted it. "Yes, I try to appreciate Ronnie. She has some fine qualities."
Jerry grinned an evil grin and quipped, "I'll bet she's good in the hay, isn't she?"
I scowled at him. "I wouldn't know about that," I said in a low growl.
Jerry feigned surprise. "What?! Thad, do you mean to tell me that she hasn't let you jump her bones yet?"
I rolled my eyes and shook my head in disgust. "Jerry, you're talking about her like she's a piece of meat!"
"Not just any piece of meat," Jerry said, licking his lips, "We're talkin' prime rib!"
I sighed, "You don't get it. That's not the basis of our relationship."
Jerry looked at me closely and said, "Speaking of relationships, do you still even HAVE a relationship with Ronnie?" I shot a questioning glance at him, and he continued, " 'Cause I couldn't help but notice that tonight she isn't wearing the headband you gave her. Somebody told me that headband was supposed to symbolize you two hookin' up."
"Yeah, well, she had to wash it tonight and it wasn't ready by the time I picked her up," I explained.
Reverting to the old Jerry Grossman I knew and loathed, he laughed his crude laugh that I knew so well, and quipped, "Stick, that's what girls always say just before calling it quits!" He leered at me and added, "Sounds to me like you're on the verge of losing your woman!"
I glared at him. "Jerry, she is not "my woman." She's not a piece of property that somebody owns. She's her own boss, and as far as I'm concerned, that's the way it ought to be!"
Jerry rubbed his hands together eagerly. "So you're telling me that she's fair game!"
"Jesus, Jerry! Is THAT what this is about?!" I stared at him, amazed at what a chauvinist lout he was. "You mean to tell me that you want to turn the idea of having a relationship with Ronnie into some sort of stupid competition?!"
"I told you, Stick, I'm a competitive guy," he said. If I can't convince you to race me on the drag strip, then I'll get you to race me to see who gets Ronnie. First one in her pants wins!"
I almost couldn't believe my ears; if it had been anybody but Jerry Grossman, I WOULDN'T have believed it. "Oh, my God! What a pig!" I said in disgust and turned to walk away.
As I left him standing there, he called out to me, "Better not chicken out on me THIS time, Montgomery. This is one race I intend to win!"
I didn't look back. I shook my head and walked on, refusing to dignify his stupid comments with a response.
In a moment I was back where I had left Ronnie and Sarah talking with Corey Smith. I handed Ronnie her beer and she thanked me. She looked at my face and knew something had upset me.
"Thad, are you okay?" she asked worriedly.
"Yeah, I'll be alright," I replied, sounding anything but alright.
"You look upset," she pressed on. "Tell me what's the matter."
I looked at her sweet little face, her brow knitted in concern for me, and I tried to calm down. "Sorry, Ronnie, I didn't mean to worry you," I told her. "I'm just amazed at how callously some people can debase others. Some guys just don't know the meaning of the word respect."
"And we would be talking about who?" she queried.
I didn't want Ronnie involved in the ugliness between Jerry and me, so I told her, "It doesn't matter ... it's not important." Then to change the subject, I asked her, "So tell me, what did Corey want to talk to you girls about?"
Ronnie's face brightened. "He asked Sarah if she would like to ride with him during a race sometime." She smiled at her best friend, and Sarah nodded, blushing a bit.
"That might be fun," I said. "I've noticed that more and more, the guys are starting to have their girls ride with them during the races." I looked at Sarah and asked her, "What did you tell him?"
"It's something I've always wanted to do," she explained, "So I told him that if he could find someone else to race before the night was over, I'd accompany him."
"that might be easier said than done," Ronnie pointed out. "He and his Nova are getting a reputation of being unbeatable. But he said he was going to try to find somebody willing to take him on."
We returned to watching the races. I again hoisted Ronnie up on my shoulders to give her a better view, and this time I made sure we were far enough away from the trees that we didn't have to worry about any low hanging branches. With Ronnie atop of me, happily cheering on the racers, I soon forgot my confrontation with Jerry Grossman, and the rest of the evening went fine.
Near the end of the night Corey came back around and told Sarah he had found someone willing to race him. It was David Rodriguez, the kid who was supposed to have taken him on last week. Since their race had been interrupted by the visit from the State Police, Corey had asked for a rematch and Dave had agreed.
Sarah broke into a big grin. "So then I'll be riding with you?" she asked Corey hopefully.
"If you want," Corey replied. Sarah and Ronnie squealed and hugged one another.
"When do we go?" Sarah asked.
"Right now," Corey told her, "And we better hustle. There's only enough time left for one more race." He held out his hand to Sarah, and she took it.
"Wish me luck!" she called out to Ronnie as she and Corey climbed into his Nova and started out to the highway. We waved to them, and with David right behind them, the two hot rods cruised down the road to where Jumbo was waiting at the starting line. About that time, Mike Scholl jumped into Jumbo's orange Cougar and he too headed down to where the racers were prepping. I knew he was going there to pick Jumbo up, so this was indeed going to be the last race of the night.
We hurried over to the side of the highway and Ronnie asked me to once again lift her up. I had no more than got her settled on my shoulders when we heard the loud crack of the starting pistol. The two cars came screaming down the highway, their headlights cutting into the ever deepening night. Since it was getting dark, nobody could tell at first who was leading. As they got closer, it became apparent that this was going to be THE race of the night; the two cars appeared to be in a dead heat. Finally, mere yards from the finish line, Corey's Nova pulled ahead ever so slightly, and he won by a fraction of a second.
Ronnie was bouncing up and down and cheering and yelling so exuberantly I was afraid I would drop her, so I held on to her legs as tightly as I could. She smiled at me and said, "Thad, put me down. I want to go and congratulate Sarah!" I let her get off me and we watched the two racers pull into the meadow.
Suddenly a loud collective gasp was heard from the crowd, and everyone turned to look back out toward the highway. A blue car cruised past the clutch of kids gathered there, a dark blue vehicle with a gold star on the door ... it was a State Police cruiser!
He drove on by and didn't seem to give us a second glance. In fact, it appeared as if The Dead Zone gang was the farthest thing from his mind. But after the Plan "B" incident the previous week, everyone was spooked and began running for their cars. Corey and Sarah must have seen the police cruiser too, because they zipped over where Sarah's yellow Jeep was parked. She hurriedly climbed out of Corey's Nova and fired up her vehicle. Then the two of them joined the frenzied exodus from the meadow.
Ronnie watched her friend's hasty retreat and looked at me in dismay. "I wanted to ask her about the race," she said sadly.
"Maybe you can phone her tomorrow and talk about it," I told her. "If nothing else, we're sure to run into her when we come out here next week, and you can ask her then."
Ronnie sighed, but she nodded her head. I took her hand and said, "I don't think we really have to worry about that cop. He seemed to be completely oblivious to our presence here. But maybe we should play it safe and get out of here anyways." Ronnie agreed and we began walking to my truck. By the time we got there, the meadow had almost completely emptied out.
We headed for home, and all the way there Ronnie kept talking about how much she wished she could ride in a race someday, and how lucky Sarah was that Corey had given her that opportunity. I'm sure that she wasn't trying to be mean, but it made me feel guilty. I listened to Ronnie talking and nodded my head; I didn't say anything because I knew as long as I continued to drive my old "pile of junk," I wouldn't be able to offer her the chance to make those wishes come true.