Crimson Highway by David Wickenhauser (brene brown rising strong TXT) 📗

“You’ll see,” James answered.

James slowed the truck, working the gears in a series of expert down-shifts. At the end of the ramp he came to a stop, then turned right. Another right, and he was entering the abandoned industrial area.

He stopped the truck on the edge of the parking lot, facing the vast, open, paved area before them. He placed the gearshift in neutral, yanked the parking brake knob, and then just sat there for a couple of minutes.

He gave Hugh an enigmatic look, then placed the gearshift in third gear, released the brake, started off heading straight across the huge lot, accelerated some more, shifted, accelerated, shifted again, accelerated some more and shifted again.

He reversed the process at the halfway point, slowed down, downshifted several times, and then brought the truck to a stop at the far end of the huge lot. He turned it around facing the empty expanse of pavement again.

He shut down, yanked the parking brake knob, opened his door and stepped out.

Hugh watched all this intently, with his curiosity growing with every moment.

“Out,” James said to Hugh from outside the passenger side of the truck.

Hugh wondered what was going on. Did he do something to offend James, and James wants him gone?

Hugh opened the door, and stepped nervously out of the truck, tensed and ready for whatever James had in mind for him. He had been teasing James, calling him “old man,” but he actually had to admit he had doubts about whether he could take him after seeing him in action during the big Wheeler Ridge fight.

And, besides, he now considered James a friend, and the last thing he wanted to do was fight his friend.

Once Hugh was standing on the tarmac, James motioned for him to walk around the front of the truck. He then pointed at the driver’s side door and said, “Up.” James then walked back over to the other side, and climbed up into the passenger seat.

“Relax, Hugh,” James said. “You look all tense.”

“Oh, well, it’s nothing. I just thought … forget it,” he said.

James reached into his pocket, pulled out a twenty-dollar bill, and laid it on the dashboard. “Here’s twenty that says you, with your cocky, smart aleck ‘old man’ attitude, can’t get it into sixth gear before getting to the other side of this lot. I know you’ve been watching me closely ever since getting into my truck. You’re a smart, capable kid. Let’s see what you can do. I’ll give you a hint to get going. Start out in third gear.”

Easy, Hugh thought. Anybody can drive one of these things.

Hugh turned the starter, making sure he had the clutch pushed in and the gearshift in neutral. He knew that much.

He reviewed in his mind the sequence that he had seen James do many, many times, then he grabbed the gearshift knob and pulled the shift lever into what he hoped was third gear. Satisfied that he had it in the right gear, he slowly let out the clutch, pressing lightly on the accelerator pedal. The truck tried to lurch forward, but promptly stalled, killing the engine.

“You break my drive shaft, Bud, and I’m going to rip it off and bounce it off your head,” James warned.

This time Hugh didn’t return James’ threat with a threat of his own. He had enough to think about already.

He put the gearshift back into neutral, pressed in the clutch, and cranked the engine again. Before Hugh could put the gearshift into third, James cut in, “What have you seen me do countless times before starting off?”

Hugh thought about it, going over in his mind James’ actions in the driver’s seat. “Oh, yeah,” he said, and pushed in the red knob that released the tractor’s parking brake.

He placed the gearshift in third gear, and again slowly released the clutch while gingerly applying pressure to the accelerator pedal. This time the truck moved forward. Hugh applied more pressure to the accelerator pedal. The truck wasn’t going very fast, but he saw the RPMs on the tachometer rising dangerously close to the red zone.

Time to shift. He let off on the accelerator pedal and, as he had seen James do countless times, grabbed the gearshift knob and tried to move it into what he knew should be the fourth-gear position. The racket was horrendous, the screeching and grinding sounded like a train derailment. This thing was never going into fourth gear that way. It was nothing like when James did it.

Hugh pressed on the brake pedal and, pressed on the clutch, and as the truck came to a stop, he looked sheepishly over at James.

James had his hand on the twenty-dollar bill ready to put it back in his pocket. “You want to try again? Or do you give up?” James asked.

“I’ll try again,” Hugh answered.

“Good man. I’ll give you another hint. Watch your tach gauge. When the RPMs get between 1300 and 1400, start putting pressure on the gear shift knob in the direction that you want it to go for fourth gear. As soon as you feel some give in the shift lever, let off the accelerator pedal, and you should be able to ease the gearshift into fourth gear. Got it?”

Hugh nodded.

“By the way, I’m taking off points because you forgot to set the parking brake when we stopped here. We’re on level ground now, but on any kind of slope you could have been in big trouble.”

He picked up the twenty-dollar bill from off the dash, put it back in his pocket, and replaced it with a ten.

“Ready?”

Hugh nodded again.

He repeated his steps to get the truck moving again. This time he carefully watched the tach gauge. As the RPMs climbed to the range that James told him about, he