(a story by Greg Chambers, October 1, 2025 creative writing group)
Raùl is driving along a desolate stretch of interstate when traffic comes to a halt. There isn't an indication of why, he's just stuck. With summer heat pressing through the windows, he switches his car radio from CD to FM and begins to scan the stations. Nothing. He changes to the static of AM radio and has to click through every 10 digits on the dial with the same result. He can see some cars turning through the median back to the previous exit which is a dozen miles back. He surveys the median and nixes the idea. The middle of nowhere, he thinks, as traffic inches up in the absence of the deserters. This is followed by another, more pressing thought. A full audience in the middle of nowhere is suboptimal when one really needs to go, he half whispers to himself, shifting uncomfortably in his seat. Note to future self: skip the supersizing.
Ahead he sees a bridge marked County Rd DD, and in the underpass is a woman hustling a little boy down from the embankment. I see you, buddy, Raùl thinks. He's still a dozen cars from them, and doesn't want to cause a stir, but this is turning into a code red situation. He switches his hazards on, pulls into the shoulder, and makes his way over the rumble strips to the safety of the bridge. He gets a few stares, a honk, and a truck edges toward the shoulder forcing him partway on the grassy bank, but it's not as bad as he expected. He pulls up in the shade behind the minivan, gets out of the car and scrambles up the embankment. His loafers slip and he catches himself on the rough surface, almost releasing his bladder.
"Whoa, hey!" comes a shout, "don't mess up your suit, big shot!" He doesn't have time to react, carefully continuing his climb. At the top of the embankment, he jogs ahead to a spot where he can't see the cars and relieves himself. God, that feels good sometimes, he thinks, hairs standing up on his neck. As his bladder pressure subsides, he feels the full force of the sun and notices the sweat. It’s dripping off his forehead and his shirt is getting soaked. He looks around while zipping up and it’s cloudless, light blue sky touching the light brown landscape for as far as the eye can see. Nowhere.
The trip down the embankment is treacherous, and the spectator has a good time with that too. Raùl makes a half salute and smiles. His new fan and the mother of the boy are standing just in front of her minivan. Her four kids are laying about and fanning themselves.
"Do you all know what's happened up there?" Raùl said. "Is it a wreck or something?"
"Wreck or brush fire," said the heckler. "I'm guessin’ brush fire. It's been awful dry ‘round here. ‘Tis the season."
The heckler is leaning against the back of his pickup truck, piled high with what looks like junk. At the top Raùl can see what looks like a crib, a dresser drawer, and a rocking horse with its nose pointed skyward, like it's inspecting the bottom of the bridge.
"How much you pay for that," the heckler asks, flicking his chin up toward Raùl's new Mercedes S class, which still has its hazards blinking. Raùl makes a motion with his head like, oh-no-I’m-so-dumb, and goes around to turn the lights off. When he opens the door, a blast of cool air washes over him and he wonders if maybe he shouldn't just sit in there and get back into traffic. He glances back at where he came from and the same truck that tried to force him off the road is in the same place. Still a parking lot.
"I never pay more than $300 for a car," the heckler continues, "see, I figure if it runs it's worth at least $500, and most people don't know how to sell cars. If I see one for $300 or less, I buy it. Gotta be running, you betcha, but I offer cash on the spot. Got this truck for $75 as long as I towed it. Just needed an alternator. Bet I could sell it for $1000 now."
Raùl had rejoined the two adults. "I'm Raùl," he said. "Doug," said the heckler, "Shondra" said the woman.
"Where you headed, Ra-ool?" said Dealin' Doug.
"To see my fiancé." although he seems harmless, Raùl is leery of offering Dealin’ Doug too much info.
"And you, Shondra, where you takin' your kiddies? They you kiddies, right?"
"Yes, they're mine,” Shondra said with caution, trying to read him. “We are going to visit my parents before school starts. Where are you going, Doug?" Shondra is wiping sweat from the sides of her nose and pulling her shirt in and out to make a fan.
"Headed to the Trade Days to sell some of this stuff," Doug said. "I have a regular booth there. Ever been?"
Both Raùl and Shondra both shake their head, no. "Mo-om," one of Shondra's kids said, "I'm sooo hot."
"You should put them in your van," Doug said, "get that AC blowin'."
"Unfortunately, the AC's stopped working. We were using the breeze from the windows before the traffic." She turns to the kids, "you'll be alright. Get a water from the van."
Raùl looks at the kids, their shirts sticking to their bodies, and hair matted to their faces. The oldest pulls the side door open to reveal the minivan stuffed to the brim with what looks to be a full house of belongings.
"Let's put them in my car," he said, "my AC is blowing cold."
"Oh, no, you don't have to do that, Mr. Raùl," she said, "You should be in there. Your suit is getting wet." They all look at Raùl as he raises his arms, showing sweat stains that reach from his pits to belt line. He can only imagine what his back looks like.
"I insist," he said, "I can change when I get to my fiancé’s place. The kids are hot." He gets in and starts the car, waving the kids over, then shuffling them into place with the three smallest in the back and the older boy in front. "Sorry guys, no radio stations out here. You're stuck with Shania Twain; you ok with that?" The older kids wrinkle their noses, and the youngest girl makes an exaggerated shrug of her shoulders. The adults laugh.
"They'll be fine, Mr. Raùl. I appreciate it," Shondra said.
"Hoo, boy! I can smell them new leather seats way over here!" said Doug. "What did that run you, like $30 grand? 35? Whatever you paid, it's gonna be worth half that now!"
Shondra and Raùl both shoot looks at Doug, who smiles and rocks back on his heels. "That's why I never buy new. Always worth less when you drive it. Gotta admit, smells good though. My cars are deals but ain’t never had one smell good that I can remember!"
They all laugh.
As they look around, they see black smoke in the distance.
"Either a tanker truck is on fire or it's a brush fire.” Doug said. “No matter, we probably have to all turn around here in a bit."
On the other side of highway, a group of state troopers drive by at a high rate of speed.
"Yep," said Doug, "I hope your girl ain't got a reservation Ra-ool! You gonna be late!"
They laugh at that too.
"Are you gonna move to be with your fian-cee, Ra-ool?"
Raùl hesitates.
"Not sure," he said, looking down. "Still being negotiated.” Doug and Shondra both look away, Doug shuffles some rocks with his foot.
They soak in the heat for a minute. Then the Mercedes’ fan kicks on, and they all turn to the kids who are dancing and singing a song in air conditioned comfort.
"What are they singing," Shondra said, "I can't make it out."
"I think it's 'who's bed have your boots been under,'" Raùl said.
"Child, don’t I know that story," Shondra said. "Wait, did I just say that out loud?" She puts her hand to her chest, tilts her head back and roars with laughter. "Oh Lordy, I know that question all too well!" They laugh and fan themselves before falling quiet.
After a minute, she says, "You'll figure it out, Mr. Raùl. You'll figure things out with your girlfriend. We all just need to get back on the road."
They nod in agreement.
"And if you figure it out, make sure and tell me, Ra-ool. I never learned to read a compass and damn sure never learned to read a woman!"
Another good laugh.
They can now see traffic moving on the other side of the highway.
"What do you think is going on?" said Raùl.
"I s'pose the po-lice are using one of the 'mergency crossings up ahead and turning people around."
They hear cars starting up, and traffic in front of the underpass loosens up.
"Well," Raùl said, "this was unexpectedly fun. Thank you two. I suppose we should get ready to merge."
They all nod in agreement. Shondra goes to get her kids.
"Y'all say thank you to Mr. Raùl," Shondra said and the kids obey, offering their thanks. Raùl bows in acceptance.
"Good luck at your trade show, Doug," Raùl said. "For the record, $73,000."
"Come again?" Doug said.
"73. What I paid for the car," Raùl said, smiling.
"Whoa hey! Like I said, Ra-ool," Doug said, "I'm happy to give you $30,000 for it today."
They all laugh.
"$25,000. I'm ready to give you $20,000 right now. Best $15,000 I'll spend today," Doug grins. "And for what you did for them young-uns, I'll even toss in that there rocking horse for Ms. Shondra's lil’un."
And with that, still laughing, they wave, get back in their cars, and wait to merge into traffic.
This month's prompt: compass, underpass, rocking horse
