The Legend

By: Gord Collins

Some people are so cool, their lives are the stuff of legends. Even their cars last forever. Some just stumbled into lore while others take everything in stride. I guess it doesn't matter how you get there.

The Legend

"Dealer is bust, player wins." Her voice was always matter of fact, but this time she broke a whiplash kind of smile to suggest something. Damned if I could figure it out.

"Hey, where's the pitboss? You gotta stop this streak" I broadcast sarcastically. They all knew who I was though, cause our town's little casino was my regular haunt. I quickly walked away with my take showing everyone a remarkable restraint.

"Ya, that's enough for me. I don't wanna be bringin down the house." This should get me that Rembrandt I've always wanted." My head was turned back toward them but my eyes were on the bar.

The Waitress, bored and too familiar with her routine, lacking anything else to do, flounced over to me.
"What should I get ya this time mister?"
"Anything in a clear mug?" I replied.
"Why clear?" she asked.
"Cause I like to see my progress. By the way, how is my progress?"
"You ain't gettin better, but I still show up every Saturday don't I?"
"Yep, and that's what I like about you. Maybe I'd better stop while I'm ahead and bid Adieu, Pammy Sue!"
"See ya Splash!" she said on her way to smash another regular at the bar, a horsefly named Charley.

As I spun from the bar, I noticed a tall stranger sitting in the darkness of one of the back tables. He'd been watching the two of us, but I couldn't get a good look at him. Come to think of it, I remember seeing him somewhere. He probably wanted to play his hand with her too. Oddly though, he dumped back his shooter and followed me out the door.

A shiny new black Porsche posing under the shade of the old elm, was the only deviation I could recognise from a late evening setting I'd seen too many times. In stark contrast, was my legend of the 70's sunk in its usual dirt wheel ruts. My door seriously groaned as it admitted me one more time. I was used to the fall into the seat so it didn't hurt my back anymore.

I glanced in my cracked rear view mirror to see the stranger closing the door on his Porsche.

At 120k, the Legend's highbeams cut a bleary hole through the blackness of roller coaster Concession 13, my expressway, but lights swallowed us from nowhere it seemed. It wasn't some encounter of the 3rd kind, it was some idiot right on my bumper. Then slowly passing, as we headed downhill, the Porsche swerved catching me off guard, oblivious at the expense, to cut me off, pushing me perilously close to a yawning canyon that would have spealt the end well enough for both of us!

Dust flew unseen, and I ricocheted around the legend's plastic front seat helplessly, but I kept my hand on the wheel and scrambled back on the road.

"You bloody fa^))&*!t" I stomped on the rotting pedal bending it further than usual and the legend responded with a unmuffled roar, in chase. I caught up to him too easily though and his pulsating brakes made me slam down on my unyielding decelerators, but I deked and flew past him instead, just missing his gleaming left fender. This bit of redneck wizardry left him a little high-pressured himself.

I rocketed up over the hill to avalanche turn and stopped quickly on the left shoulder. There I saw streaking red lights hurtle into space. Downward curving lazerlike images ended abruptly, then spinning end to enders with glass spinning off like it was Chinese fireworks. Its last acrobatic leap was a beautiful finale as it extinguished all lights aboard --- finally slamming to a stop!

I turned my engine off, and sat in stunned silence for I don't how long. No one ever goes along this road, but me! and the only time I ever had trouble was with the pond further down the canyon. I thought to myself 'This guy had it all back at the bar, posturing, yet when he put it into action, he wasn't the warrior he thought. Probably some fool kid taking chances he didn't know about.'

I opened my door, but there was no way he could have made it. 2 more minutes passed and the German Masterpiece exploded, ablaze, but peacefully civilized, contained unto itself. Both Picasso and I felt guilty; Those were $2000 14" Pirelli's I could have fit nicely on the legend. Oh well, they'd just bring me bad luck anyway!

I passed the shimmering pond once more looking forward to Saturday night.

by Gord Collins

Other short stories by the same writer: Casino Man and Return to St. Kitts.

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