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The Man in the Muckmobile
Erin Abernethy It's 11:15 a.m. I'm sitting in line at the drive-through of my favorite local fast-food place. The car ahead of me looks as though it might have been recently dredged up from the bottom of the lake--mud caked over the entire thing, a few unruly weeds sticking to the wheel rims and rear bumper. There could be a body in the trunk, for all I know. The driver sounds as though he's probably the one who managed to get it into the bottomless sludge-pit (heaven knows how he got it back out--maybe the water level dropped). "Tacos an' hot sauce helps settle m' stomach," he adds, as though this explanation will magically fix everything wrong with his world.He has that loud, drawling voice that people get when they've been drinking heavily and their ears have become so numb they can't hear themselves but they still have just enough wit to know they're being misunderstood. "Ah neeeeeed... four... no, three... three shaw... saw... show... SOFT-shell tacos... with hot sauce... anna extry-large cuppa ice," he manages. The loudspeaker crackles something unintelligible, and the man stares at it intently. There is silence for a moment, and then another crackle that sounds vaguely like a question or a request for clarification. He begins to repeat himself, leaning out the window far enough that I can see his bright-red face. "Ah SAID... Ah need... THREE SOFTSHELL TACOS... with..." This time I can hear the girl on the speaker all the way back where I'm waiting. "Sir, we don't have any tacos." "Huh?" "We don't have any tacos." "You done run outta tacos?" he howls pitifully. Fumbling with his shirtsleeve, he peers at his watch. "Why, it ain't but a little after eleven in th' mornin', an' you done run outta TACOS?!" "No, sir, we don't HAVE tacos." This obviously throws him for a loop. He sits there dumbfounded for a moment, his arm hanging limply over the side of the mud-encrusted door. "Well, how can you be a Taco Bell... an' NOT have TACOS?" he demands belligerently. "This isn't Taco Bell. This is McDonald's," the voice on the loudspeaker informs him. This news seems to come as another surprise to him, as he twists around, leaning out his window in search of a sign. Evidently he's missed the huge yellow "M" on the speaker he's been staring at and conversing with so intently. "You're kiddin' me!" he exclaims. "Sir? Could--ah--could we get your order, please?" I can see the girl in the drive-through window as she takes note of the line of cars starting to form behind the misguided taco lover. "Well, shoot. Ah need me some tacos, an' y'all don't have 'em," he mutters reproachfully, as though this is entirely her fault, as though they changed the menu just before he pulled into the parking lot. "Tacos an' hot sauce helps settle m' stomach," he adds, as though this explanation will magically fix everything wrong with his world. "Oh, wait--y'all got them breakfast burritos, don'tcha?" "Yes, but we stopped serving breakfast at 10:30." "Oh. Dang, I sure do need me some tacos an' hot sauce. Whaddya got that's sorta similar t' that?" "You... could... um... try a cheeseburger with some of our new chipotle barbecue sauce?" she suggests. "Is it hot? That-there sauce you're talkin' about?" "It's... well, it's spicier than our original barbecue sauce." "Allrighty, fix me a couple o' them, then. Anna cuppa ice, extry-large." "Two cheeseburgers, with chipotle barbecue sauce packets, and an extra-large cup of ice. Your total is $2.61, please drive around to the first window." "Is that all? Hey, I gotta come here more often," he hoots, creeping the muckmobile around to the window. It could be my imagination, but I think the drive-through girl turns just a little bit paler. We wait while he digs around in various parts of his car, searching for loose change. Eventually the line moves, and as we pull around to the pick-up window, a leaking garden hose strung across the parking lot sprays water over the back bumper of his car, rinsing off just enough of the mud for me to make out the bumper sticker underneath. It says "Jesus Is My Co-Pilot." © Copyright 2005-2007 by Erin Abernethy |