In The Name Of The Father

By Daniel H McCarty

Editors note: . This is a true story and Aubrey is the real deal. I worked with him in Redding, CA. This tale is as close as I can remember to him telling it.

“Give me the beat boys and free my soul
I wanna get lost in your rock and roll and drift away.” by Mentor Williams…’Give me the Beat’

“Yet you ask, ‘Why does the son not share the guilt of his Father’ Since the son has done what is just and right, ………. he will surely live.”…Ezekial 18:19

Aubrey is a natural-born story-teller, right down to the rhythm, cadence and inflection of a Southern Evangelist. He learned it at his Daddy’s knee when he was just a child. Good thing he learned early, because by the time he had reached adolescence the theological veneer had worn thin.

Aubrey’s father was Ezekial Cummins (Cummins meaning ‘Little Bent One’ in Gaelic ) an itinerant Pentecostal preacher in Central Florida in the late 50’s through the 60’s. Ezekial rolled into town in a Studebaker President, clad in a seersucker suit with a flask of Bourbon tucked in his breast pocket. He would regale the crowd with tales of sweet Jesus, striding from one side of the stage to the other wearing two-tone shoes and a Jerry Lee pompadour.

He looked the righteous straight in the eye and flashed a George Dickel grin as he pitched his ‘Silent Offering’ – no jingle jangle mind you. And the plate would come back filled to the brim with soggy 1’s and 5’s that had been clutched in sweaty palms moments before. And occaisionally a hand written entreaty to discuss the physical trials and temptations of life written in a lovely cursive.

Now people who have struggled and strayed from the righteous path tend to listen to a man who has brushed against the gates of Hell. Who understands sin better? But family, they see how you butter your bread. They see the lipstick on the collar.

So Aubrey had earned a PhD in WTF. He possessed a keen sense of the absurd, a deadpan delivery, a head full of curls and a cowboy mustache. He’s a 5’6″ tall slab of beef. Not chubby…thick. Laid back. Knows how to make people comfortable. In possession of the oratorical skills he had learned from Ezekial.

When it comes to matters of the righteous, he is one deft sidestepper. Truth is he hardly sees the point. If you are unable to see the hypocrisy then he's not about to break it down for you. As he said to me, “Why fret over what someone else thinks. They’ve lived that fantasy all their lives and nothing you say is going to sway them an inch.”

Aubrey had an older brother named Christian that lived life on the edge. He had respect for a few of the ten commandments. No killing, no stealing and no coveting another mans wife – unless that man wasn’t giving her the attention that Christian felt she deserved. In that case, all bets were off. And ‘Thou Shalt not Drive Like a Bat out of Hell’ had never made it onto Mose’s Tablets.

Christian and Aubrey had converted a 62 Beetle into a bare bones dune buggy. Two seats, a stick shift, four tires, huge shocks and a heavily reinforced frame wrapped around an engine salvaged from a wrecked Porsche 914. It was an open air screamer and stump jumper . Whoever was riding shotgun provided the screams. Street legal? Not hardly.

Aubrey and Mama Rose were in the process of moving out of a rented cinder block ranch home in Haines City, before the landlord showed up for the rent. Ezekial had hooked up with a bleached blonde proselyte from Deland that had witnessed the second coming of God one night at the Motel 6.

Mama Rose had enough. She had seen the light (actually it was the tail lights of a Studebaker President as Zeke and Viola hauled ass out of the Motel 6 parking lot on his way out-of-town.)

Christian slid to a stop in the dune buggy and yelled at Mama Rose and Aubrey to hurry up and jump in just as the lights of a Polk County Sherrifs cruiser came sliding around the corner. Christian let out the clutch and shredded half the lawn of the soon to be abandoned bungalow, hauling ass down Marion Ave with the cruiser in hot pursuit.

“Oh Lord” cried Mama Rose.

“I don’t think the Good Lord is going to intervene with your first-born, Mama. I got a feeling that Christian is going to be saying his prayers in the Polk County jail and not the First Pentecostal.”

Fifteen minutes later the dune buggy came sliding sideways to a stop on the front lawn (what was left of it) with Christian at the wheel in a sweat soaked T-shirt.

“Throw your suitcases in the car and follow me….NOW.” screamed Christian. “You got sixty seconds.”

Aubrey and Rose grabbed their suitcases off the porch and threw them into the back seat of Uncle Dominic’s Plymouth Belvedere. Christian was standing up on the seat of the dune buggy looking back over his shoulder, with his right hand tightly clutching the steering wheel.

“NOW Mama! Aubrey you drive and follow me.” Aubrey was 14 at the time, but Hell, he was a rural Florida boy. He knew how to drive like a Moonshiner.

Aubrey gave his Mama a hip bump to slide her over toward the passenger side, gunned the Belvedere and let out the clutch producing a fantail of Central Florida dust and crab grass. Dominic had dropped a 383 into the nondescript Belvedere and Aubrey knew how to take full advantage. He was on Christian’s tail and tapping the dune buggys rear bumper as Mama Rose clutched his arm with white knuckles.

“Lord help us, I believe you’re having fun Aubrey. This is the Devils work”

“Yep, Mama, that son of the devil made me do it and he’s right in front of us driving a dune buggy. Hee Hah.”

Even Rose had to smile at that one.

About 10 miles down 17 Christian pulled behind a grove of trees with Aubrey right behind. He hopped out of the dune buggy and strolled over to the Belvedere with a shit eating grin spread from ear to ear.

“What in the Lord’s name was that all about Christian?”

“Well Mama, that patrol car started following me and the buggy ain’t street legal. When he hit the flashers I took off. That little Porsche engine was no match for his pursuit Hemi so I had to come up with a way to lose him. You know that big ole sinkhole that me and Aubrey found over on Kokomo Rd.? Well that Sheriff was hot on my tail and closing and if I didn’t lose him, he would have reinforcements.

I knew the Dune buggy could jump the gap if I could get her over 60. I bout ripped the tranny out when I downshifted but she flew right over like Evil Kneivel. Trooper didn’t make it. That patrol car is ass end up in the air. Come on Mama it might be a good idea to get outta town.”

“Uh son, I think we better get out-of-state.”

“What do you think of Tennessee, Mama, or South Dakota now that we're bona-fide outlaws?”

“Son, I think your big Brother is having too much of an influence on you.”

“Sure is nice to see you smile again Mama.”