The Truck Left Me Down And Bleeding

East Glacier

East Glacier

Montana Bunkhouse
June `72

When I got friendly with one of the girls in the bar, Mead also found
a girl, a large, jolly, old Indian lady. After drinking only one beer,
he suggested we go to a different bar. The girl I was with, a student
from the University of Indiana who worked with Indian Affairs in
Browning, Montana, was okay with that, so we piled into the front of Mead’s truck. The large Indian lady sat on my lap. When the lights went out, the Indian lady who was twice my size got roving hands. She took total control of the “situation” or maybe it would be more accurate to say that she had the “situation” well in hand. Either way, I’ll never forget being brutally kissed by an old, drunk, fat Indian lady.

At the next bar, Mead ditched his girlfriend, and wanted to call it a
night. He said he would be glad to drop Bev off in Browning on the way back to Babb. The three of us climbed back in the truck and took off on what I hoped was our last ride. Fortunately, Browning was northwest of East Glacier, so I was kind of heading home. Everybody was quiet during the twenty-minute ride to Browning. I tried to talk to Mead, but he was either too drunk to listen, or he refused to talk. That made me uptight. In Browning, Mead pulled down a gravel road. When I asked him where he was going, he said, “Home. I need to stop at my trailer.” When we pulled up to an old trailer, he handed me a key and told me to see if it would unlock the door. Whatever was going down, I knew it was bad. I told him “No. Why don’t you do it?” He insisted that I go unlock the door. When I got out of the truck, he stepped on the gas. I ran after him and grabbed the door handle of the truck. As I ran alongside, trying to open the door and pull Bev out, he swerved in my direction. I fell under the truck and the rear tire ran over my leg, dragging me across the gravel. As I lay in the dirt motionless and bleeding, Mead kept going. When I forced myself to get up (I thought I had broken my leg), I found that I could walk, barely.

Under a streetlight, when I looked down at my leg, I could see the
truck’s tire tread marks imprinted across my blue jeans at the calf. I managed to hobble over to a trailer where a light was on in a window. When I knocked at the door, an Indian lady answered. She immediately started pushing me in the chest with her finger. I couldn’t understand what she was saying until, finally, I heard the words, “You’re not Tommy. Where is Tommy?” She was becoming unfriendlier by the second. If I could have moved, I would have beaten a path from her doorstep. But, as it was, I just let her push me around. She backed off when a large dude came to the door with an unlit cigarette dangling from his mouth. When I looked up at him (he must have stood almost seven-foot tall), he asked me for a light. I said, “Sorry, I don’t have a match. I’m hurt. I need help. Do you have a phone?” He pointed to the house across the street and said, “They have a phone; we don’t,” and then he shut the door in my face. I limped across the street and knocked on the door of that house. I could barely move; my leg had stiffened. My reception there was less physical, but no more friendly. When I asked
to use the phone the man who came to the door pointed down the road and yelled through the glass window of the door, “Payphone, four blocks.” It was painful, but when I made it to the phone, I called the police.

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About bwinwnbwi

About me: Marvin Gaye’s song, "What’s Going On" was playing on the jukebox when I went up to the counter and bought another cup of coffee. When I got back, the painting on the wall next to where I was sitting jumped out at me, the same way it had done many times before. On it was written a diatribe on creativity. It was the quote at the bottom, though, that brought me back to this seat time after time. The quote had to do with infinity; it went something like this: Think of yourself as being in that place where infinity comes together in a point; where the infinite past and the infinite future meet, where you are at right now. The quote was attributed to Hermann Hesse, but I didn’t remember reading it in any of the books that I had read by him, so I went out and bought Hesse’s last novel, Magister Ludi. I haven’t found the quote yet, but I haven't tired of looking for it either.
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5 Responses to The Truck Left Me Down And Bleeding

  1. Mèo Lười Việt says:

    Poor you. First of all being smashed, crushed and harrassed by a woman twice of your size then brutally kissed… then nearly broken your leg by a horrible truck and a horrid friend who didn’t want to utter a word to you… then an aggressive Indian woman again and her giant husband. Luckily you still survive to post a long entry here. God bless you! 😀

  2. bwinwnbwi says:

    I visited your blog and found a super piece of writing. Back in the day when I was at the center of these experiences I was like your Arthur character, “with eyes full of wonder and mystery,” and that made it all worthwhile. Today I’m more like your Montanelli “who used to see those things,” but now-no more. When you see the coming of the Spirit of God, you endure the worst with a smile! Thanks for the comment!

    “Arthur raised his head with eyes full of wonder and mystery. “What I see, Padre? I see a great, white being in a blue void that has no beginning and no end. I see it waiting, age after age, for the coming of the Spirit of God. I see it through a glass darkly.” Montanelli sighed. “I used to see those things once.” “Do you never see them now?” “Never. I shall not see them any more. They are there, I know; but I have not the eyes to see them.”

  3. Mèo Lười Việt says:

    That’s the price we have to pay to be grown up. Sad but true. Now we learn to see the core instead of skin-deep values. But don’t worry, be happy. There’re still lots of interesting things out there. Years ago, I was like Arthur who’s too innocent to understand the reality as it is. Then I was disillusioned, just saw the darkness around me. Now I get to the stage of balance, see all the good and the bad of this world. 🙂

  4. Mèo Lười Việt says:

    I’m quite new to wordpress. So didn’t know how to use it somehow. Sorry for being late! 🙂

  5. bwinwnbwi says:

    I am also not very good at using the computer. I can barely post on my blog. Thanks for your comments. Yes, life is full of good and bad, and fairness, unfortunately, is always behind the curve!!

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