The Wolf, Sleepy and Bushy
My brother says it never happened. but I know it did. I was there. I saw it.
My little brother and I have a problem with sibling rivalry. I call him my little brother. He's 15 months my junior but about three inches taller and 80 pounds heavier. He's losing his hair, as I am, but he's got bushy eyebrows, so he's got his bald forelock covered.
For a guy who is 6'3”, he doesn't have much trouble being macho. Even so, when we two get together to travel somewhere, like from 8 p.m. to 2 am., machismo has to come out. Like who can drive the longest without giving in?
He began our trip home by driving first. Then around 12 a.m., he let me have the wheel. I was already sleepy because I always turn into a pumpkin at 10 p.m., but I believed if I could get past Guthrie, Texas, I could make it to Lubbock okay. Guthrie is one of those small country towns which is about a hundred miles from any other town of any significance.
As I drove, I was having problems keeping the pickup between the shoulders of the road and the white lines. The few lights of Guthrie had long since faded from the rear-view mirrors. The driving wasn't getting any easier for me. Then it happened. Super manliness awoke. I determined I would tough it out. I shook my head a few times and stretched my mouth and my eyes. I sat up straight then leaned back a little. I had it under control
I herded the car down the road. Slowly, ever so slowly, my right eyelid started to droop. I fought it for a while, but finally decided, what the heck, I'd let my right eye get a little rest. I let my eyelid slide down over my eyeball and encase my eye in comfortable darkness.
Then, my left eye started to quiver. It wanted to join the other eye in comfortable darkness. My eyelid quivered up and down. I struggled to keep it open. Macho-ness was suffering.
Casually, in order not to attract Little Brother's attention. I reached up and held open my right eye. I grabbed the eyelashes and held them with my thumb against my forehead. My left eye didn't care. It just swayed gently back and forth in the socket.
Little Brother swung his ponderous bushy head partially toward me. He looked at me out of the corner of his left eye and grumbled, “Why are you rocking the car?”
Testosterone flowed with an adrenaline burst. I was awake again. I said, “Sorry, I thought my eye was rocking.”
Desperate to maintain my one-upmanship, I finally managed to get both eyes open, but I had to hold the eyelashes of both against my forehead. It was a real physical effort. After a while, both eyelashes were stuck to my forehead by perspiration. I had one hand on the steering wheel, and the palm of the other hand held my lashes against my forehead.
Slowly, I eased my hand down. My eyelashes stayed stuck. I bared my teeth in a Kirk Douglas type grin. I sat there with my head tilted slightly back as I looked down the bridge of my nose at the road. It was ultra-manliness ... of sorts.
Suddenly both eyelashes broke loose. The force of their closing caused a whiplash which drove my head forward into the steering wheel. My head caromed back from the steering wheel and sort of jiggled there on the top of my neck like one of those bobble heads you see in the rear windows of cars.
In order not to call undue attention to myself, I casually leaned over and looked in the rear-view mirror. I noticed a half circle groove in my forehead from where it had impacted the steering wheel. The incident had taken only about three seconds. I think it caught Little Brother by surprise. He turned his head slowly and raised a bushy eyebrow. Again, he looked out of the corner of one eye at me. He didn't say anything. I guess he must have thought I had momentarily contracted St. Vitus' Dance, or maybe St. Elmo's Fire. I don't know which, I always get the two confused. Anyway, he took his slow look and swung his eyes ponderously back to the road in front of us. I could tell he had confidence in my manliness.
I grinned a lop-sided grin to myself. The grin was really more of a grimace. My face, from my forehead down to my chin, was paralyzed and just sagged there limply. I shook my head vigorously in an effort to wake up. My eyelids fluttered like two sheets of tin in a strong wind. My loose tongue flew out. It smacked wetly against the sides of my jaws. I saw Little Brother wipe his cheek with the back of his hand. He gave me another slow look.
I thought. “Enough of this baloney. I had better sit up straight and get down to some serious driving. He's liable to think I can't handle this.” I settled myself in a comfortable position, checked my speed and nudged the accelerator. I had everything pretty well under control. I sat back and decided to enjoy my renewed macho/manliness. I sat there and giggled and snorted to myself because things were going so well.
I remember looking through the slits in my eyes when I whispered to myself, “Why are my eyes closed to mere slits?”
I didn't get an answer. I whispered again, “Why am I looking through the skinny parts of my eyelids?”
To my left, outside of the pickup, I heard a voice call me, “Hey, dude.” Since I hate being called “Dude,” I looked out of my window to see who was being rude to me. Lo and behold, there was a Gray wolf wearing a brown trench coat. He was holding onto the truck door handle, and he was riding on a red, white and blue skate board.
I could see it all very clearly. Honest to God! I saw it.
He gave a big kick and made several circles around the pickup. I thought. “Dang! He's good!”
I was going to ask Little Brother if he thought the wolf was good, too, but suddenly the wolf swung around in front of the pickup and shouted, “Hey, dude! Watch out for my skate board.”
Without thinking, I shouted at the wolf, “What?”
Across the pickup from me. Little Brother swung his ponderous head slowly toward me again. With a tone of irritation, he asked, “What?”
Suddenly, the wolf fell behind us. I looked at Little Brother, raised my eyebrows. and I mildly asked him, “What?”
He said, “You said. What?”
That manly word was awake again. I said, “Oh yeah, I was just talking to.....” Coming to my senses, I interrupted myself, “I mean, I was just looking at that ... ah ... wolf.” I pointed over my shoulder with my thumb.
Little Brother turned and looked hack down the road. With a voice that sounded like two slabs of granite grinding against each other, he asked. “What wolf?”
I looked out of my window. No wolf. I looked in the rear-view mirror. I didn't see the wolf. Vaguely, somewhere in the back of my mind, something was telling me I was in big trouble. I had seen lots of wolves running around the Texas countryside but none on a skateboard.
I grimaced and scratched my bald forelock. It squeaked as I scratched it. I considered that something major might be wrong with my mind, but upon reflection, I dismissed the thought and decided that my testosterone induced high might be slipping.
I decided that I had reached a crucial point. I asked myself if I should confess that I was sleepy, or if I should continue driving and see if I could find that wolf and his skate board again. After long and careful consideration (about three seconds), I confessed. I said, “I'm so sleepy I can't keep my eyes open.”
The command rumbled out of his throat, “Stop the truck!”
When I had pulled the truck over to the side of the road, in order to change places, I thought Little Brother moved with amazing speed. For a big man, he moved like a hungry wolf chasing a lost calf.
He settled into the driver's side with what sounded remarkably like a sigh of relief. The truck sprang forward with such force that my head snapped back against the head rest and stayed plastered there. Sibling rivalry forgotten, it was such a comfortable feeling that my eyelids just naturally slid down and encased both eyes in comfortable darkness. It was a quick trip after that.
Little Brother says it never happened.
I still say it did, but I never saw the wolf again. I'd like to have seen him though. I'd like to know what the devil he was doing on a highway, at 1:00 am., on a skateboard. I mean. “Like it's 1:00 am. All the skate board parks are closed! Are you crazy?”