Walla Walla Whoopee

Just call me Walker. I'm a story teller. What follows is about George when he was young and foolish. I'll tell you more about him later. . . and about some other folks as well. But let's go ahead.

Walla-Walla Whoopee

I pushed Pete's Pontiac along the two-lane blacktop that rose and fell over the Palouse, the big Mercedes close behind and gaining. Our lives wouldn't be worth a cup of cold coffee if our pursuers caught up with us. Connie would get no mercy, and from the look on her face, she knew it.

The souped-up engine pushed the Pontiac over 120mph, the speedometer needle hard against the peg.

As I sailed over a rise in the road, I saw a herd of cattle crossing the road down in front of me. "Oh, s&*%!" I screamed, but then I saw a little space between two cows.
I aimed for it, and went screaming through the gap with my heart in my mouth and cow hair brushing the side of the car. As I roared up the next rise in the road, I glanced back to see the killers' car smack right into the middle of the herd, pieces of cows and car parts flying everywhere.

I started to laugh hysterically, singing "Moo cow, moo cow, whatcha gonna do now!"

I realized the danger was over and slowed down. It was none too soon. Steam and blue smoke came from under the hood. "Ahh! My brother's going to kill me!" I lamented. I had wheedled and coaxed my brother Pete until he loaned me his pride and joy, the coolest car in the county.

Connie sat beside me white-faced, her fingers leaving permanent dents in the dashboard, I'm sure. "I never want to ride in this car again, George" she said in a shaky voice. "Drop me off at the bus station when we get to Walla-Walla. I just want to go home and I don't want to ride with you to get there."

"Aw, Connie, baby! It wasn't my fault! I was just taking us to our favorite spot. How was I to know we'd arrive just in time to witness a murder? And this Pontiac can outrun just about anything!"
But Connie looked pretty determined as well as scared and just shook her head. "We escaped them, honey," I reassured her. "They're back there all mixed up with dead cows and just as dead."

I nursed the big Pontiac the next few miles into Walla-Walla, with Connie silent as stone.
Our romantic interlude had turned into a near-death experience. I don't think she wanted to be around anybody or anything that reminded her of this terrifying experienc.