Moment In Time

When I think about the day now, it seems more like a dream.

I am riding shotgun with my Dad, Mason Kaintock. There is an assorted pile of 3 ring binders, keys, paper contracts and a hair brush at my feet. The AC is on high and I have coopted the car stereo's cassette deck with a homemade mix tape. We are on our way somewhere and Dad asks me if it's OK to make a quick stop.

The road is wooded,steep and snakes back and forth. We travel miles and miles without seeing a building or another car. Around a curve appears a 50 car lot. We pull in to the gravel drive way. The sound of the tires against the gravel reminds me of the cycle of one hundred Jiffy Pop Popcorn from maximum popp to just before the burning stage.

Out of the gray dust appears two guys with matching knit collar shirts and guts. The owners of the lot greet my Dad with the familiarity of running in to one of your best childhood friends. Of course this reception was not uncommon. Every used car dealer in the state of Alabama knew Mason Kaintock.

Dad shot some shit with the salesman while I walked around the lot. He came after me holding a set of keys. He said let's take the car for a ride. He pointed at a late model 700 series BMW. Now, this is no 325i. This is a seriously powerful car. He tossed me the keys and we hopped in.

As I turned the engine over, I could feel it's strength. The road, with its pins and turns, was treacherous. It was a straight shift, so it took me a couple of minutes to get used to the clutch.I was not completely in control of the car and I had trouble keeping the speed comfortable. I was nervous as hell, but didn't want to show it to my Dad.

I slowed down and pulled into a.....


Still too painful to finish this.