I woke up this morning with this memory in my head. Don't know why. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Kenny's Social Club

I noticed antifreeze on my driveway so I drove the Jetta over to Kenny and Skeets Auto Repair. It’s a local gathering spot for the boys in Oshkosh and John Deere hats. It was 94 degrees so Kenny had the windows and door open and a box fan on high. I was leaning against the fender listening to the banter Of Kenny’s Social club while Skeeter was looking for a drain bucket.
A mustard yellow Datsun 510 screeched to a halt in front of the door. The passenger door opened and a lanky blonde fellow wearing a black motorcycle jacket 2 sizes too big and unlaced black leather combat boots unfolded himself from the front seat. Lank hair, lank posture and a lank expression that suggested either he was stoned as hell or cognitively challenged.

I went with both.

He had a studded leather collar and piercings above his eyebrow, in his nose, in his ear and in his lower lip. The rings were connected with silver chains.

This was a farm town not Tampa. The boys in the social club were raised Sunday morning Baptist and Southern polite. Lanky was a sight to behold. He was trying to ask for directions but obviously suffered dry mouth and was having difficulty remembering the address.

Suddenly the drivers door slung open. A woman emerged with rhinestone cats eye glasses, burgundy and blue hair, shaved on one side. A tattoo of the signs of the zodiac filled the space. She wore a buckled and belted motorcycle jacket similar to her lanky partner. She reached down and smoothed the leather skirt that was too short to cover her subject, shot a deadly glance my way and stomped into the shop in thigh high leather boots. The heels were a good seven inches.

She grabbed the chain link on her passengers face and yanked him out of the way against the door.

“Why do I always have to deal with morons? Why don’t they have any street signs in this shithole town? Where the Hell is Luca’s Tattoo parlor?”

The social club had all taken one wide eyed step backward. There was silence for a few seconds until Kenny clicked the ball point in his hand twice against the desk and cleared his throat.

“Well Ma’am, as I was trying to tell your gentleman friend, if you head back the direction you came and bear left where Hudson intersects with Baker, you’ll find your destination is about two blocks up on your right. It’s a yellow building with a Cheerwine sign out front. Don’t know why, Luca don’t sell no Cheerwine.”

She glanced fiercely around the room at the social club.

“Morons. The whole fuckin’ world is morons.”

She grabbed Lanky by the collar and stomped back to the Datsun. As she passed me she flashed a deadly glance.

“What the Hell are you looking at asshole?”

“A cartoon Ma’am. Just a freakin’ rude and foul mouthed cartoon.”

The Datsun squealed away leaving 100 feet of rubber on the blacktop. I turned and watched her depart the way she came and smiled.

That girls gonna be needing a new set of tires soon.