Two things crossed my mind. One – the flash of red hair and her speed. I knew she would be my ticket to get to Austin a lot faster than I had hoped, if only I could catch up to her and allow her to be my lead. I certainly didn’t need any more speeding tickets and all I had to do is shadow her, slow down whenever she slowed down and then keep up with her. I pushed on the accelerator and within a matter of seconds, I was riding about 500 feet behind her, cruising along between 80 and 85 mph, well above the posted 70 mph speed limit. We weaved and bobbed out of the slower traffic and it didn’t seem to bother her that I followed along right behind her.
After passing the Italy, Texas speed trap, my speed spoiler got caught behind a slow moving truck. I zipped right past her and casually glanced over to check her out. We briefly exchanged looks as I zipped past her. I slowed down for a fast approaching overpass. State troopers like to hide behind overpasses. Just as I crested the rise, I saw the familiar ‘black and white’ sitting off to the side, in the high weeds. I tapped on my brakes. I looked over at the Trooper as I flew by him and then watched in my rear view mirror for his overheads to come on. I just knew I had been caught. Lucky for me, he didn’t light me up.
My red-headed speed demon friend crested the hill and I could see the front end of her little sports car take a dip as she suddenly realized she was in the sights of the State Trooper. I watched my rear view mirror for the familiar blue and red lights, but nothing appeared. She was one lucky gal, because I’m sure she topped that hill well over 80 mph and ten miles an hour over the posted speed limit.
Within a few seconds, she was on my bumper. I drifted back out of the passing lane and into the right hand lane. She sped past me, not even looking me over. I pushed on the accelerator, maintaining a safe distance behind her. She kept to the right lane, except when she needed to pass. I followed her every move, giving her the space she needed to pass slower vehicles.
I glanced at my speed odometer and we were doing between 90 and 95 mph.
We slowed down in Waco, but then stepped it back up again as we pushed past Temple and Belton, slowing slightly as we entered each town on the Interstate. A couple of times, she let me slip past her and I took the lead. We never really made eye contact, except through our rear view mirrors.
Just as we approached Georgetown, I sped past her again, as she got boxed in by a couple of slower moving eighteen wheelers. I looked in my rearview mirror and saw her dart into the passing lane and then suddenly, her car started to fish-tale. Blue smoke briefly obscured her from my vision as she spun around, still heading down the interstate behind me. Somehow, she managed to temporarily regain control of her car, as I let off my accelerator. She spun around again, the front end of her car clipping the concrete median and sending her into another spin. Everything happened so fast, yet it seemed like I was watching it in slow motion.
I pulled on to the shoulder of the interstate, breaking hard, watching the crash behind me as it unfolded in my rear view mirror. The little sports car spun around a second time, as the cars and trucks behind her braked. The back end of her car bounced off the median and sent her flying across the interstate and on to the right shoulder. At this point, she was less than a hundred feet behind me, so I quickly backed up in her direction.
I stepped out of my sedan and walked towards her. In an instant, she flew out of her wrecked car, running in my direction.
“Are you okay?” I shouted as cars and trucks sped past us on the freeway, which was littered with the parts of her small sports car.
“Oh my Gawd!” she shouted as she approached me, “Did you see that?”
I asked her if she was okay, even as she put her hands out to her sides and then on to her head. I spread open my arms as she stepped up close to me and we hugged.
“Are you okay?” I asked.
“Yes,” she shouted, “But I think I totaled my car.”
I surveyed her car and replied, “Maybe, maybe not, but you’re alive. I can’t believe you didn’t hit anyone and that no one hit you.”
She held on to her neck, interlocking her hands behind her head, as she stared back at her sports car.
“Damn,” she remarked, “This is fucked up!”
“You did well, until you overcorrected,” I replied.
I offered to call the police, but she asked me to not call.
“I just need to call my dad,” she replied. I offered her my cell phone, but she was shaking so bad that I had to dial the number for her.
“I don’t know what to tell him,” she remarked.
“Just tell him you have good news and bad news,” I replied. “Tell him you’re okay, but that you wrecked the car. He may be ticked about the wreck, but he’ll be glad you’re alive and okay.”
After dialing the number, I handed her my cell phone. She told her dad she had wrecked and that she was okay.
I asked her again if she was okay and she reassured me that she was fine. I started to head back to my car, when I realized it would not be proper to leave her stranded on the side of the interstate.
“Do you want me to take you anywhere or wait for the wrecker?” I asked.
She hesitated in responding, and then realizing it was either go with the wrecker driver, rely on myself, or call a friend, that her choices were limited. She bit down on her lip.
“I really don’t want to inconvenience you,” she said. I reassured her that my staying to help was no inconvenience.
I put my arm around her shoulder, to reassure her that everything would be okay. She followed me back to my car and settled into the passenger seat, as I backed up closer to her car.
“So what takes you to Austin,” she asked, as we sat and waited on a wrecker. I explained that I was a risk manager and was going to Austin to conduct a business risk evaluation of a local taxi company.
“ …and you?” I asked.
She explained she was a junior at Texas State University, majoring in animal husbandry. “Animal Husbandry” sounded unusual, perhaps even a bit kinky to me. She smiled at my “kinky” comment and then took a moment to explain what animal husbandry was.
It was at this point that I realized she was leaning in close to me, practically across the center divider of the rental car. I didn’t mind, because she was very cute.
We chatted a bit about where she was from, her family, and what she hoped to do after graduation – all the while waiting for the wrecker to show up. She asked about myself and I tried to remain pretty vague in my responses. At one point, she brushed her long red hair back over her shoulder and asked, “Do you always flirt with drivers on the freeway?”
“Flirt?” I shot back, “I wasn’t flirting, I just trying to play catch-up and avoid a ticket.”
“I think you were flirting,” she replied. I reassured her I was not flirting.
“Well,” she replied, “It would matter to me if you were. You have great driving skills.”
I told her that hers were just as good, but that they just needed a bit of refining.
“You know,” I remarked, “I don’t even know your name.”
“Cristal,” she replied, “But you can call me Chris.”
“Or ‘BA”, I replied, “or perhaps B-A-D, as in a Bad Ass Driver.”
“So bad ass that I wrecked,” Chris responded.
“Hey!” I shot back. “At least you’re alive and you won’t be doing any overcorrecting any time soon.”
The wrecker pulled up and we piled out of my rental.
“Grab your purse,” I told her, “so it doesn’t disappear.”
I watched as Chris leaned into the driver’s side of her crumpled up sports car and retrieved her purse and cell phone, I couldn’t help but notice how very damn tight fitting her jeans were. When she turned around, there was no hiding my embarrassment. I was caught staring at her ass. I apologized.
Chris smiled, but didn’t say a word. We watched as the wrecker driver, a scruffy young fellow in his late twenties, hauled the little red sports car on to the angled deck of the wrecker. He handed Chris a slip of paper and told her she could have her insurance company representative call the number on the receipt to arrange a time to come and see the vehicle.
We stepped back to my rental, as the wrecker driver pulled away.
“Where to?” I asked.
“I don’t need to be at school until tomorrow,” Chris responded. “I was going to check back into at the dorm today, but now, I don’t even feel like going there.”
“Do you want to get a bite to eat?” I inquired. Chris was so very polite and repeated her desire to not cause me any inconveniences. I assured her I didn’t mind helping her out.
Although I had an appointment, I knew that I could very easily back out of it with a simple call. I dialed my contact and explained there had been a wreck on the freeway and asked if we could reschedule the visit until the next morning. Luck was running my way and the client was more than understanding.
“Are you sure?” Chris asked as I hung up the phone.
I stayed quiet for a moment as I surveyed the Interstate in front of us.
Chris was cool. She flipped her hair back over her shoulder and took a deep breath. I could tell she was nervous and apprehensive.
“You know,” I remarked, “I just met you, but it seems like I am somewhat attracted to you.”
Chris smiled and replied, “I know that feeling.”
I pulled on to the freeway and exited at the Georgetown exit, that exit neither of us had made it to because of the wreck. I glanced over at the Holiday Inn Express.
“Do you mind if I get a room?” I asked. “I think I’ll be spending the night.”
Chris nodded her head in agreement. I don’t know why I made the follow up statement, but I mused out loud whether I should get a room with a King or a double bed.
“Get the King,” Chris remarked, as she reached across the center divider and squeezed my thigh. “You’re worth the King.”
Her unexpected touch was more than enough to let me know about the possibilities that lie ahead. Suddenly, I was ready for whatever would come my way and my hopes would not be dashed!
