You Get So Alone at Times That It Just Makes Sense - Charles Bukowski [9]
the proper admixture…
then
traffic backed up and stopped, and then I really smelled gas and I saw my
gas gauge dipping rapidly, then my radio told me that a man
3 miles up
on the Vernon overpass had one leg over the side and was threatening
suicide,
and there I was threatened with being blown to hell
as people yelled at me that my tank was broken and pouring gasoline;
yes, I nodded back, I know, I know…
meanwhile, waving cars off and working my way over to the outer lane
thinking, they are more terrorized than I am:
if I go, those nearby might go also.
there was no motion in the traffic—the suicide was still trying to make
up his mind and my gas gauge dipped into the red
and then the necessity of being a proper citizen and waiting for opportunity
vanished and I made my move
up and over a cement abutment
bending my right front wheel
I made it to the freeway exit which was totally
clear
then worked on down to a gas station on Imperial Highway
parked it
still dripping gas, got out, made it to the phone, got in a call
for the tow truck, not a long wait at all, nice drive back in with a black
fellow who told me strange stories about stranded motorists…
(like one woman, her hands were frozen to the wheel, took 15 minutes of
talking and prying to make her let go.)
had the car back in a couple of days, was driving back from the track,
hit the brake and it wouldn’t go down, luckily I wasn’t on the freeway
yet, cut the ignition, glided to the curb, noted that the steering
column cover had ripped loose and blocked the brake, ripped that away, then
ripped some more to make sure, then a whole mass of wires spilled out,
s h i t…
I turned the key, hit the gas but the car STARTED
and I drove off with the dangling wires against my leg
thinking
do these things happen to other
people or am
I just the chosen one?
I decided it was the latter and got onto the freeway where
some guy in a volks swung over and blocked my
lane
whereupon I swung around the son-of-a-bitch and hit
75, 80, 85…
thinking, the courage it took to get out of bed each
morning
to face the same things
over and over
was
enormous.
the player
I had 40 win on the 6 horse
he had 2 lengths in the stretch
was running along the rail
when the jock whipped him
right-handed
and the horse hit the wood
spilled
threw the jock
and there went the race
for me.
that was the 7th race
and I considered that the horse
might have lost
anyhow
and then I considered leaving
but I decided to play the
8th,
hit 20 win on a 5 to one
shot.
in the 9th I went 40 win
on the second favorite
and when the bell rang to start them
the horse reared and
left my jock
in the stall.
I took the escalator down
and walked out the
gate
where a young man asked me
for a dollar so he could
take the bus
home.
I gave him the buck and
told him,
“you ought to stay away from this
place.”
“yeah,” he said, “I
know.”
then I walked toward parking
searching my coat for
cigarettes.
nothing.
p.o. box 11946, Fresno, Calif. 93776
drove in from the track after losing $50.
a hot day out there
they pack them in on a Saturday;
my feet hurt and I had pains in the neck
and about the shoulders—
nerves: large crowds of people more than
unsettle me.
pulled into the driveway and got the
moved up and parked it
went in and opened the IRS letter
form 525 (SC) (Rev. 9-83)
read it
and was informed that I owed
TWELVE THOUSAND SIXHUNDREDFOUR DOLLARS AND
SEVENTY EIGHT CENTS
on my 1981 income tax plus
TWO THOUSAND EIGHTHUNDREDEIGHTYTHREE DOLLARS
AND TWELVE CENTS interest
and that further interest was being
compounded
DAILY.
I went into the kitchen and poured a
drink.
life in America was a curious
thing.
well, I could let the interest
build
that’s what the government
did
but after a while they would
come for me
or whatever I had
left.
at least that $50 loss at the
track didn’t look so
bad anymore.
I’d have to go tomorrow and
win $15,487.90 plus
daily compounded
interest.
I drank to that,
wishing I had