Being Free

By Michaelandre McCoy

Ty,a Black youth is running from a 10 year prison sentence and his ex gang. Accepting a ride out of L.A. from Free, a parole violating,Vietnam vet from rural Georgia, begins as their worse nightmare and deteriorates from there. After Free’s injuries leave him clinging to life, he insists on being taken to Angela, a nurse with her own sordid past and a beautiful off-limits teen-aged daughter,Sky.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Michaelandre McCoy
• Release date: Mar 1, 2013
• ISBN: 9781301301775

Michaelandre McCoy

Michael Andre McCoy was born in Fort Lee, Virginia and raised in the San Fernando Valley, a suburb of Los Angeles, California. He attended Wayne State University in Detroit, Michigan, for two years on a track scholarship, majoring in Political Science and minoring in Psychology. He later attended the California State University at Northridge, as a Philosophy major. Michael graduated with honors in 1981from Morehouse College in Atlanta, Georgia with a B.A. degree in Philosophy and a Music minor. Other books by Michaelandre McCoy: THE ANTITRUTH: published in 1997 THE MEANING of AMERICA: published in 2012 BEING FREE: published in 2013

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Being Free

By

Michaelandre McCoy

Published by Michaelandre McCoy at Smashwords

Copyright 2013 Michaelandre McCoy

Smashwords Edition, License Notes

This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only.

This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people.

If you would like to share this book with another person, please

purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading

this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for

your use only, then please return to Smashwords.com

and purchase your own copy.

Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

This novel is dedicated to a woman who spent

her life helping others to grow and prosper,

my mother,

Eloise McCoy Lockheart

Table of Contents

PROLOGUE

CHAPTER I Free’s Ride

CHAPTER II It Ain't Beggin', It's Business

CHAPTER III Nothing Personal

CHAPTER IV A Slap On the Wrist

CHAPTER V A Whole New Set of Rules

CHAPTER VI That God Part of You

CHAPTER VII A Spiritual Connection

CHAPTER VIII Injuns and Enjuns

CHAPTER IX Texas Just Don't Love Me

CHAPTER X The Fool Gene

CHAPTER XI Angels

CHAPTER XII In Skye's Eyes

CHAPTER XIII Music and Fireworks

CHAPTER XIV One of Those Times

CHAPTER XV A Win/Win Situation

CHAPTER XVI Extenuating Circumstances

CHAPTER XVII Loose Ends

CHAPTER XVIII Tryin' To Be Reasonable

CHAPTER XIX Written In Stone

CHAPTER XX Father's Day

CHAPTER XXI Patching Things Up

CHAPTER XXII Sacrifices

EPILOGUE

About The Author

Other Books by the Author

Prologue

It’s been said that Los Angeles, California is no place to raise your kids; unless of course you have a bank full of money and can afford the very best of private schools and mildly exotic imported nannies.

Its graffiti slathered walls often hide the bullet holes from the occasional drive-by shooting or provide the backdrop for the never ending drug sales and other illicit negotiations that have become so commonplace as to be not only expected, but largely ignored by the weary traffic-jammed drivers who pass by daily in their air-conditioned cars with their un-cracked tinted windows and securely locked doors.

Trying to understand this latest crop of degenerate youths loitering in the malls and along the littered streets, who speak a language only seemingly reminiscent of the one we learned in school, and fed to them through MP4 players while accompanied by the bone rattling sonic boom of their homeboys cruising by in 20"chrome wheeled cars with their windows down and the bass cranked up, isn’t easy.

Caring about these young people is even harder. We forget that they’ve been cast into a hostile environment not of their making; and that equipping oneself for survival may entail wearing ill-fitting garb and a hardened external demeanor indistinguishable from that of a pervasive prison culture.

Baggy panted boys and hoochie dressed girls are a sign of the times and a culture gone mad. A culture most of their parents can hardly relate to themselves, and so have succumbed to the constant plea of their progeny to be allowed to fit in, or else become victims of the disapproving eyes and demeaning criticism of their peers.

To ignore today’s youth is to ignore our own fate. We hold our breaths as we wait for this culture of salaciously acceptable violence and eroticism to pass on like the beatnik, hippie and disco cultures we once embraced. Only this one seems to be sticking, and corrupting the fabric of societal acceptability.

We don’t know how to confront it, and so we attempt to shelter ourselves from it while hoping to secure our spirits, windows and doors against it, as we grow older and thus dependant upon these seemingly brain-damaged young people and their drug and profane lifestyles.

We act as if we’re in denial when it comes to acknowledging the inevitability of their impending ill-equipped leadership, as they age into the jobs we leave behind.

The difference between us and them is that we knew we were doing wrong before we began committing the act. The very concept of right and wrong seems to have blurred into whether one successfully gets away with something, or gets caught and therefore punished for it.

BEING FREE

CHAPTER I

Free’s Ride

Late May, 2001

Nothing makes sense anymore, Ty muttered to himself." All that crap they fill your head with about 'doing the right thing' and 'keeping your nose clean', is just the latest bunch of lies they lay on you to replace Santa Claus and the Tooth Fairy.

A brother can never catch a break. Somehow you end up paying for the air you breathe, the water you drink and every damn step you take. Hell, you can even end up paying for somebody else's mistakes."

Ty's train of thought was cut short by two violent sneezes, which left a sharp pain lingering in his chest and served to remind him of where he was and what he was supposed to be doing.

"’It never rains in Southern California’, yeah right! I wonder what fool ever came up with that line. He should have had his ass out here tonight. The last thing I need now is to catch pneumonia or some shit like that. Hell, dying don't even sound all that bad about now; everything is so screwed up!" he hissed as he kicked the puddle at his feet.

As Ty futilely attempted to wipe the tears from his eyes, he noticed a familiar looking car slowing as it approached the onramp.

Oh shit! He said, turning to conceal his face from the people inside. If that’s the Sinnaz, they’re gonna fuck my ass up for trying to leave town."

As he fumbled through the pocket of his soaked blue jeans for the switchblade he kept there, much to his relief, the car accelerated up the on ramp and onto the freeway heading toward downtown Los Angeles.

"If it was them, and they recognized me, in about 5 to 10 minutes they’re gonna circle back around and either one of two things is gonna happen. They’re either gonna pop a cap in my black ass or pull me into the car and take me somewhere to beat the crap outta me. Either way I’m gonna end up dead or in the ICU. And if I don’t die, I’m going to prison for some shit I didn’t even do!

I don't know what the hell I'm thinking. Ain’t hardly any traffic out here tonight. No fool in his right mind would be out here trying to hitch a ride in all this rain, and ain't nobody in their right mind gonna pick up some young Black hoodlum at two in the morning; especially in the Crenshaw district. But I can't go back home, and I ain’t got a dime to waste on a motel room. Here I am totally screwed at seventeen! Sometimes you dig yourself a hole that's too deep to ever climb out of, so you might as well try to dig the damn thing all the way down to China.

Well, I ain’t got no choice but to leave, ‘cause I ain’t going to prison over some bullshit! I don’t give a damn what anybody says. And the last thing I need is to try this in broad daylight. People know me, and I can't be trying to explain why I’m out here and where I’m going to anybody. It’s a good thing the police are all inside having a donut or something about now. I sure could use a donut. This sucks!!

Well, I really don’t wanna do this shit, but I’m running out of time. Looks like I'm gonna have to go over to that gas station and car-jack somebody if I don’t get a ride in the next couple of minutes. Like somebody's really stupid enough to give me one."

As if in answer to his unspoken prayer, an old faded red Volkswagen minibus slid to a stop several feet ahead of Ty at the base of the onramp. The passenger side window rolled down and a slightly raspy voice called out. What are you waitin' for? Get in! It's gettin' wet in here!

Hesitantly, Ty approached the old van, I was hoping for a Benz or a Lexus but right now this will have to do, he thought as he climbed in.

Well, roll up the window for God's sake; it’s getting’ wet in here!

As the van started up the onramp, Ty was already having second thoughts. "What the hell am I doing? This guy could be an axe murderer or serial killer or something. I know if he's some kinda child molester, he's gonna have a rude awakening if he tries some shit on me."

Looking to his left, Ty encountered the bearded weatherworn face of a white man in his mid-to-late fifties who was dressed in an oil-stained plaid shirt, khaki colored pants and beat up leather wing-tipped shoes. Ty couldn't tell if it was the old man's breath or just the inside of the musty van that he smelled, but he knew that he would have to fight the urge to cover his nose, or risk being put back out in the rain.

Where ya headin'? the old man asked, as he took note of Ty's dripping Raiders jacket, soaked baggy cuffed blue jeans, gold hoop earring and untied Air Jordan tennis shoes.

As far away from here as I can get, Ty said looking away.

Well, I'm headin' for the desert if you wanna go that way. My name is Free. All my friends call me Free, short for Free Spirit, he said, extending his hand.

"Yeah, whatever, that'll be cool. Whichever way you wanna go, just go. Let's just get away from here."

Withdrawing his hand, Free responded sarcastically, It's nice to meet you too Free, he mocked in a voice that still betrayed the southern drawl of his rural upbringing. Thanks for stoppin’. I was dyin' out there in all that rain. I don't know what I would have done if you hadn't stopped. By the way, my name is…?

Why you gotta know my name?

'Cause I like to know who the hell I'm ridin' with, that's why! I mean, you can take all that attitude and climb your ass right back out on the street. Me and Gus don't need no shit!

"Who's Gus? You got a dog in here somewhere? I knew I smelled something funky up in here!"

Look, Free said, pulling the van out of the slow lane and onto the freeway shoulder, just get on out and have a nice day. Y’ try to do a guy a favor and he insults you. Go on, get out! Maybe someone else will pick your sorry wet ass up!

"Why you gotta be like that? I didn't mean nothing by it. I mean you gotta know it stinks up in here," Ty said defensively.

You get used to it. Well, you won't 'cause your ass is gettin' out… now! Free exclaimed with a look of determination in his eyes.

Come on, man, Ty pled, with a hint of desperation creeping into his own voice, don't do me like that. Look, I apologize, 'aw-ight'? My bad.

Your what? Speak English; I'm not hip to all that Ebonics crap. Now, you got anything else you wanna say before I put you out?

"Uh yeah, my name is… my friends call me Ty, and I really would appreciate a ride, 'aw-ight', I mean, all right?"

Yeah, I guess, but I don't want no more of your crap, or next time your ass will be hoofin' it! I'm not playin'! Free insisted, as he pulled back onto the rain-slick highway.

For the next few minutes, the only sound was that of the van struggling to get back up to speed.

So like, who's Gus?

Gus, here, is my minibus. We've been hittin' these highways together for a lotta years. This is actually Gus the Third.

Looking behind him, Ty quickly took note of the van's interior and its contents. Wrinkling his nose and in a voice showing just how unimpressed he was, he asked, When you thinking about getting Gus the Fourth? This is kinda nasty.

You startin' up again already?

"Naw, I mean, he just kinda looks and sounds like he's on his last leg, ya know what I'm sayin'? I think 'Gus' has seen better days, that's all," Ty replied, with a fake smile.

"We both have, Junior; but just because somethin' is old and a little worn around the edges, don't mean that it cain't get the job done."

You talking about you, or the van?

I'm talkin' about both, smart-ass! And since you obviously don't know your ass from a hole in the ground, you worthless know-nothin' piece of crap, you might just want to curb your tongue before you end up limpin' home on it!

Yo, slow your roll, old man. Why you so sensitive and shit? You ain't gotta be baggin' on me, ya know what I'm sayin'?

"Oh, so you can dish it out but you cain't take it. Is that the way it is with you? It figures. Trust me, Ty, you don't want to get into a war of words or any other kind of war with me, 'cause I will take you out! I don't play. Don't judge a man by his looks, 'cause you don't always know who you're dealin' with!"

Is that supposed to be some kinda threat? Ty asked, sitting up.

"Only if you want it to be, 'my brother'!" Free replied, looking him straight in the eye.

Ty settled back in his seat in silence, watching the road and contemplating his next move. What the hell am I getting myself into? he asked himself as he involuntarily yawned. "Well, it's too late to turn back now. Hope this old fool don't try no shit with me, 'cause I am not in the mood and I will jack his ass up!"

CHAPTER II

It Ain't Beggin', It's Business

As Ty's eyes struggled to open with the early morning sunlight shining directly into them, he slowly came to realize that he didn't know where he was or where he was going.

The drone of Gus' engine had lulled him to sleep last night; and even though he hadn’t slept for the past couple of days, he was almost in total disbelief that he would, or could, allow himself to pass out under these disconcerting circumstances.

You must have really been out of it last night, Free said with a smile. Here I thought you were restin' your eyes, and I'm just talkin' away, until I asked you a question and didn't get a smart-alecky answer.

You been driving all night? Where are we?

Just outside of Palmdale, headin' into the desert, Free said, still smiling.

"Damn, it took you long enough to get here! It ain't that far!"

I stopped for a little shuteye, do you mind? I mean is that okay with you, or should I ask for your permission next time?

Naw, do what you wanna do, old man, you the one driving, aw-ight?

"And don't you forget it! Aw-ight'?"

Ty smiled. It don't sound too cool when you say it. You just might wanna leave the cool shit to me, and you handle all the old played out shit, aw-ight, old man?

"You gon start with me this early in the damn mornin'? I meant what I said last night, boy. I will put you out!"

First of all, you need to 'chill' with that boy" shit, 'cause I'm a man. And secondly, you ain't puttin' nobody out in this fucking desert! Ty said, balling up his right fist. I ain't playin’ that, ya know what I'm sayin'?"

"If you got a problem with your hand, boy, you might need a doctor to take a look at it. 'Cause if you don't straighten it out, he'll be lookin' at how to get my foot outta yo ass at the same time!"

"What you think you gonna do, old man? Don't get yourself hurt! All I'm sayin' is that I am not gettin' out in no damn desert. You can believe dat!" Ty concluded, leaning back in his seat.

We seem to be havin' some serious communication problems that we cain't seem to overcome, Free said, matter-of-factly. I think it would be best if you found yourself another ride when we get to the next town along the way. In the meantime, you try not to say anything to me and I'll try not to say anything else to you. Good enough?

Sounds like a plan, old man. Ty said, looking at Free sideways. That'll be just fine with me, he concluded as he closed his eyes once again.

In what could have been minutes or hours later, Ty was awakened by the driver's side door slamming shut. Through the front windshield he could see Free with his thumbs in his front pockets and fingers hanging on the outside, approaching a white four-door sedan with its hood up, parked on the side of the interstate.

A Caucasian man exited the car on the driver's side followed by a woman and small girl on the passenger's side.

Ty couldn't make out everything that was being said, but apparently they were having car problems of some sort.

Free gestured toward the van, nodded, and began walking back in Ty's direction. Instead of getting back in, he proceeded around to Ty's side of the van and opened the side door.

Sounds like his car overheated due to a lack of oil. He said the engine light came on, on the dashboard, and when he pulled over to check it out, his dipstick was dry. He must have a leak. I'm gonna see if I cain't get him started and on his way to the next town where he can get it fixed. I hope he didn't throw a rod, Free explained.

"Why you gotta help him? Ty asked in disbelief. The Highway Patrol will come by sooner or later. We're wasting good time here."

First of all, you ain't got nothin' better to do. Second of all, I'm not wastin' time; I'm helping out a fellow human being in need. Third of all, they could be sittin' out here in the hot sun for hours. And fourth of all, this is what I do for a livin'. Now, do you want to help me carry this case of oil over there, or are you gonna just sit there and bitch?

Shit, it's getting hot as hell out there! You can carry all that crap if you want to, but you're on your own, Ty replied, crossing his arms and leaning back.

Yeah, I figured as much, Free said, pulling an unopened case of oil out of the van along with a well-used oil funnel. Could you at least close the door back for me?

Ty didn't reply, but begrudgingly got out of the van and slammed the door shut, prompting everyone at the other vehicle to look up with a start. Apparently, they had been unaware that he was in the van at all.

Bending down, Ty picked up his red bandana, and throwing back his jacket, reinserted it into his right rear pocket so that it hung down to the knee of his pants, which were hanging so low that they exposed the top half of his underwear.

As he got back into the van, Ty saw the man cautiously herding the woman and child back into the car on the driver's side, and signaling for them to lock the doors. The man proceeded to position himself at the front corner of the car where he could watch both Free, who was putting oil into the engine block, and Ty at the same time.

Well ain't this a bitch? Ty said to himself. "What does he think I'm gonna do to him out here in the desert? We're here to help the motherfucker and he's checking us out like we want to rip him off or something. Now I'm glad I didn't help his prejudiced white ass."

A few minutes later, Ty witnessed the man getting into the driver's seat and starting the car. With a smile he opened the car door, stepped outside and asked Free how much he owed him.

Well, I already told you what the oil cost me, so you just add that to whatever you think my trouble was worth, my friend, and we'll call it even, Free said with a big smile.

What the hell kinda whack business is that? Ty wondered out loud.

The man pulled out his wallet, glanced over his shoulder at Ty and pulled out a twenty-dollar bill. Is this enough?

If you say it is, it is, Free replied.

Oh hell, here's another five! The man said with a big smile. Thanks again! Thank you! Free said loudly, waving the bills at the family as they drove away.

Free retrieved the remaining plastic bottles of oil, along with the empties and the funnel, and returned to the van.

Laying the load on the ground, he proceeded to take a large wad of cash with a rubber band around it from his front left pocket. Removing the rubber band, he added the new bills to the wad, replaced the rubber band and returned it to its resting place.

How much did he give you? Ty asked.

Not that it's any of your business, but, twenty-five dollars.

That's all… after you saved his ass?

"Well, let's see. The oil cost me about five or six dollars, which means I made almost twenty dollars in ten or fifteen minutes. That's about eighty dollars an hour, give or take. I'd say that ain't half-bad! By the way, Ty, how much do you make an hour?"

Depends.

On what? How big a lie you wanna tell, or on how much crack you sold that day?

Fuck you, old man! Ty said, turning away.

Anyway, I'm pretty sure you scared the guy when you decided to flash your gang colors. Sometimes I get a bigger tip. I don't wanna see that headband again, as long as you're ridin' with me! You got that? Free asked sternly, as he closed the side van door and walked around to the driver's side. And take off that big ol' Raiders jacket. You're sweatin' like a pig and you look stupid. I'm not gonna steal it! he insisted, starting the van and pulling back onto the freeway.

"You got that right, old man, Ty replied as he removed his jacket, revealing large wet circles under each of the armpits of his yellow Lakers jersey. Whew, that does feel better!" he admitted, as he tucked the bandana into one of the jacket's pockets.

A little common sense goes a long way. Anyway, you're probably a little short on cash. The smart thing for you to do is to lend me a hand and make yourself a couple of bucks.

How much?

Depends on the job, and how much I make. Besides, anything might be better than nothin', and you might learn a thing or two.

We'll see, Ty said unenthusiastically.

Sooner than you might think, Free said, pulling the van off the highway about thirty feet behind a black Ford Taurus. C'mon!

Jumping out of the van, Free instantly went into his friendly neighbor routine. Hey partner, he addressed the large well-dressed Black man exiting the car, looks like you've got a flat tire there. Need some help?

I don't know, the man replied, what's it going to cost me?

Whatever you think it's worth when we're done, Free replied, sticking out his hand.

My spare went flat, sitting in the trunk, the man said, as he shook his hand.

No problem, Free said with a smile, just give us a few minutes.

Turning his back, he strolled back over to Ty, who watched his expression change from friendly to dead serious before his eyes.

Here's what I need you to do, he said in a hoarse whisper. Get me the foot pump out of the van, while I use my jack to raise the car. And try to be nice to the guy! Free turned, nodded, smiled and said, We'll be right there, sir.

Get a move on! he said as he pulled a long-handled jack from its place just inside the door, along with a battery-operated electric drill with a lug nut attachment. And pull your pants up!

Setting the jack on the ground, he quickly pulled it by its long handle in the direction of the car. The jack’s metal wheels squeaked loudly in protest, telling its tale about Free’s life on the road and the countless rescues and close calls it had shared with him. Moments later he had it under the rear left side of the auto and firmly in place.

Using the drill, Free quickly loosened the lug nuts on the flat tire in a clockwise order, and then proceeded to pump the handle on the jack until the rear tire was completely off the ground.

Where are you with that air pump?

Come here a minute! Ty yelled back.

With an exasperated sigh, Free began walking back over to the van, and turning with a smile he addressed the motorist. Good help… well, you know the rest.

I know just what you mean, the man said with a big smile. Don't rush.

"What is your problem?! Free asked, with sparks shooting from his eyes. The pump is sitting right there!"

"I know that! Ty shot back in a loud whisper. But wouldn't it be easier to just use this can of flat fixer? That'll blow it up."

When I want your advice, I'll ask for it! Do you know what that stuff costs? No, you don't, do you? I'm tryin' to make a buck here. The spare is in good shape, it just needs some air in it. So get your lazy butt over there with the damn pump!

Turning towards the Taurus, Free called out, Be right there! and turned back to Ty. You want me to do this alone?

`Naw, man, I got it, he said, pulling his pants up and climbing into the back of the van.

Using a quick pivot, belying his age, Free spryly jogged back over to the car. You know how it is, you're a business man yourself, he observed, while placing the semi-flat spare into place and replacing the lug nuts. You try to teach them the best you can, but sometimes you wonder why you even bother.

Dropping the pump on the ground next to the newly mounted spare, Ty bent over and began loosening the valve cap while giving Free a look that said, "I dare you to say one more word to me in front of this guy".

Attaching the foot pump, Ty rose and began pushing down on the pedal repeatedly. He wasn't having much luck outside of creating a sound that reminded one of leaking air.

Mind if I give you a hand there, young man? Free asked courteously, as he bent over, removed the hose and reattached it properly. Now, try it again.

This time, much to Ty's embarrassment, each pump resulted in the expansion of the tire, which was sufficiently filled a minute later.

Could you take these back to the van for me, Ty? Thanks, Free said, without waiting for an answer.

I appreciate it. You saved me some serious time here. Is twenty enough? The large man asked.

It is, if you say that it is, thank you very much! Free said with a smile and a handshake.

As Ty returned for the jack, he didn’t notice the patrol car pulling up beside them.

Is everything okay here? the officer asked through the lowered passenger side window.

Avoiding the officer’s eyes, both Free and Ty looked nervously at the large man they’d just helped.

Everything’s fine, the man replied. These gentlemen just helped me fix a flat tire. Thank you officer.

Okay, the officer said still trying to make eye contact with the other two. Take care, he added as he pulled away.

The driver of the car turned to Ty. You'd do well to listen to this man, young buck. You just might learn something about dealing with people. Thanks again, he said as he got back into his car and carefully pulled back onto the roadway.

No no, thank you! Free responded, sounding relieved as he waved the twenty-dollar bill.

Not bad for ten minutes work, he said with a shaky voice. It helps to have the right tools for the job, don't it? Free asked, as he pulled out the wad of money. Not that you necessarily earned it, but here's five dollars for your trouble, he said, pulling a five-dollar bill out of the wad and replacing it with the twenty.

That's all I get? How come I don't get half?

Let's see, Free said, laying his hand on his chin. "My van, my gas, my tools, my client and my labor. And you aren't my partner, you're my employee. Of course, if you feel you should pay me for the lesson, that's okay by me," he said reaching for the five.

Oh, so it's gonna be like that, huh? Ty said, stepping back and shoving the five dollars deep into his front left pocket.

"When you're worth more you might get more; with the emphasis on the might."

Let's just go, Ty said sharply, as he anxiously climbed back into the passenger seat.

Yeah, let's just do that, Free said, sliding the side door closed. "It's gonna be a long bumpy ride. I can just feel it in my bones; and my bones seldom lie."

Climbing back into the van, Free immediately pushed the play button on the in-dash cassette player he had installed years before, replacing the standard am-fm radio.

The knobs looked well worn and had oil and grease embedded deep inside the grooves. The plastic facing was sun faded and you could hardly read the display on the front. The tape player reminded Ty of Free, a bit worn and dirty, but like he'd said, it still got the job done.

The song that began to play was familiar to Ty, Willie Nelson's On the Road Again. He didn't hate the song, but then it wasn't on his play list either.

Uh, do we have to listen to that? Ty asked with a frown.

You damn skippy! Free replied with a smile. It's kinda like my theme song. It gets my day goin' right. It keeps me focused!

Well, you don't seem too focused to me, you just passed up a car back there.

Triple A, Free said, looking straight ahead.

What's that supposed to mean?

There was a ninety percent chance that the driver had a AAA road card, and she was already on her cell phone. She's not gonna wanna pay us for what she thinks she can get for free.

But how can you be sure she has a triple A card, unless you stop and ask? Ty inquired, staring directly at Free.

"After twenty somethin' years on the road, you kinda develop a sixth sense about those things. At first you spend a lot of time second-guessin' yourself, but after a while you learn to start trustin' your gut instinct.

Instincts are the key to survival on the road. If you cain't trust your gut instincts you end up in a world of trouble. You gotta know when to stop, and when to keep on rollin'. It's not foolproof, but I'd rather be wrong and miss out on an opportunity, than to be right and get my head bashed in on the side of the road somewhere."

And you think you have this 'sixth sense'? Ty asked, sounding skeptical. What did your 'gut instincts' tell you about me?

Well, the jury's still out on that one, Free said with a sigh. I never said it was an exact science.

You saying you don't trust me?

I'm just sayin' that I haven't been able to get past this bullshit attitude you keep givin' me, to get to know the real you yet.

"So what makes you think this ain't the real me?" Ty asked with a crooked smile.

Instinct, Free replied. Just my gut instinct;…You hungry?

What gave me away?

Well, either that's your stomach growlin' or Gus is slippin' a gear. I'll pull over at the next rest stop for a candy bar, some chips and a soda if you want me to.

What kind of bogus breakfast is that? Ty complained. A brother could starve to death of malnutrition or something. I want some serious grub, you know, like bacon and eggs or something. A candy bar ain't gon get it, ya know what I'm sayin'?

I know what you're sayin'. But I don't see any fine eatin' establishments around here, do you? Free asked, waving his hand. They're a ways up ahead. In the meantime, I'd settle for the junk food if I was you.

"Whatever," Ty said, slumping back in his seat and holding his stomach with both hands.

You're kinda spoiled ain'tcha? Free observed. Tell me about yourself.

Ain't nothing to tell…. I'm just a brother in need of a ride.

You're gonna need another ride if you cain't be straight with me, Ty. I saw how nervous you were when that cop pulled up back there.

"Why you gotta keep pushing me, man? I said I don't want to talk about it, aw-ight? It's a Black thang. You wouldn't understand it even if I told you. You couldn't relate, ya know what I'm sayin'?"

You'd be surprised what I can relate to, Ty. Why don't you try me?

'Cause I don't feel like goin' there, you mind? Damn, Free, give a brother a break up in here!

"A 'brother' is gonna have to earn a break from me. I don't like ridin' with people I don't know. So either talk to me, or I'm still goin' to have to part company with you at the next town," Free said, trying to sound as serious as possible.

Why it gotta be like that, Free? Why can't you just leave it alone and let me ride with you long enough to make some money? Then I'll get out of your gray hair, I promise.

Free didn't respond. Instead he pulled the van off the freeway at what turned out to be a small rest stop with two heavily barred, bolted and chained vending machines.

You might want to use the rest room while you're at it, Free said quietly, as he climbed out of the van.

You just don't know, old man, Ty said softly, knowing Free was out of earshot. "And I bet you wouldn’t let me ride with you if I did tell you about myself. So, oh well, it be's like that sometimes. God, I wonder what my mother is going through about right now. I hate to do this to her, but a man's gotta do…."

Exiting the van, Ty saw Free walking away from the restroom as he trotted over to the door. Yanking it open, he was almost knocked off his feet by the pungent chemical/urine smell that assaulted him.

Pee yew! he exclaimed, holding his nose. "Don't they ever clean these things out? A brother could suffocate up in this mug!"

Peering around the restroom door, Ty watched intently as Free finished counting his money.

I've asked myself that same question, many times, he responded.

The hairs on the back of his neck stood up as Free turned just in time to catch Ty eyeing his wad of cash as he pushed it down into his left front pocket.

You got your own money for snacks, so don't ask me for any of mine, he said as he put his coins into the soda machine and pushed the button.

He listened as the coins dropped and the battered machine made a clunking sound, but produced no soda. Oh no you don't! You must not know who you're messin' with! he said, giving it a shot on the right side. The machine acquiesced and dropped a cold soda into the holding slot at the bottom. "I knew you knew!" he added, smiling as he popped the top on the can.

Turning toward the restroom, he called, What you doin' in there, Ty, taking a bath?

Why, you wanna help me?… Uh, don't answer that! he added with a laugh. I'm coming!

That's what I was afraid of! Some things you ought to keep to yourself, boy!

Forget you, old man! I'll be out in a minute.

I hope I'll still be here when you do, Free said chuckling, as he bought himself a Payday candy bar. There's still money to be made before the sun goes down.

Well, as slow as you drive, I didn't think you were ever in a hurry, old man. And you need to get some new air-conditioning in old Gus out there. It's hot in that van!

Gus cain't handle a bigger unit. He's oil cooled, and he's old. You wouldn't want him to have a heart attack would you?

Frankly my dear, Ty quoted, I don't give a damn!

You will when your ass is walkin' twenty miles to the next town! C'mon, now!

Damn!, Ty exclaimed, fastening his belt as he left the john. A brother can't even take a crap around here without getting some grief! I'm out already, warden. Is that all right with you?

It is till you cost me some money! Free said, climbing into the van.

Wait till I grab something from the machines! Ty shouted, over the roar of Gus' engine starting. I'm almost there! What's wrong with this damn soda machine?

You gotta whack it on the side, junior!

That worked! Let me get some chips!

You're gonna have a whole lotta time to get some chips if I leave your ass here. C'mon! Free insisted, putting the van in reverse.

"Don't you even try to leave me, old man. I will hunt you down!" Ty yelled as he ran to the van, climbing in.

Rest stops ain't for restin', they're for temporary necessities, Free said, pushing the play button on the tape player. On the road again…. he sang along with a smile, as he watched Ty grimace as if he were in pain. I just cain't wait to get on the road again…

Oh, God… Ty said under his breath, commenting equally on Free's singing and his mouthful of stale chips. It's gonna be a long bumpy ride.

Minutes later, Free pulled up behind a stalled Toyota Corolla with its hood up.

Looks like a coolant job to me. What do you think, Ty?

How the heck should I know?

Well, you wanna take this one and find out?

Yeah, Ty replied, as he jumped out of the van.

Pull your pants up! he heard Free say as he strutted away.

Giving his pants a yank with both hands, Ty approached the Toyota as he watched the woman and boy inside lock their doors.

I'll be damned! he said to himself.

Excuse me! Ty said loudly, so as to be heard through the closed car window. Would you like some help?

No, we're fine, the woman inside responded loudly." We've already called the police for help."

Yeah, okay, Ty said, turning and walking back to the van. "Shit, she ain't even got no cell phone in the car. Who does she think she's fooling?

She don't want no help, at least, none of my help," Ty said climbing into the van.

Sure she does. It's all in the approach. Now here's what I want you to do. Take that gallon of antifreeze back there, over to the car. Tell her that you're sure that's all she needs, and that you'd be glad to fill up her radiator for fifteen dollars.

"I ain't gonna beg her, Free," Ty said, looking down.

It ain't beggin' it's business. You want me to do it?

Naw, I got it, Ty said, getting out of the van and opening the side door.

Free watched as Ty pulled his pants up, put on a smile and walked back over to the car with the gallon of Prestone anti-freeze/coolant clearly in sight.

Free couldn't quite make out what was being said through the driver's cracked window, but Ty soon disappeared around to the front of the car, only to reappear a few minutes later.

Try it now! he said loudly.

The engine roared to life. Looks like that did it! he exclaimed, walking around to the front of the car and slamming the hood shut.

Free witnessed as the woman stuck a twenty-dollar bill out of the cracked window, waved her hand and quickly sped off.

Yeah, same to you, bitch! Ty said, wiping the sweat from his brow as he walked back to the van, folding the twenty and putting it into his pocket.

Excuse me, Free protested, as Ty climbed into the van, "you didn't think you were gonna get to keep it all did you?"

"Yeah, I earned it kissing up to that bitch out there! What?"

First of all, you have to pay me for the coolant, Free said holding out his hand.

Sorry, I don't have change.

No problem, Free said, smiling. I have plenty!

Hesitantly, Ty handed over the bill.

Second of all, we don't leave trash on the side of the road, so you need to go get that empty plastic bottle you left out there.

Leaving the van door open, Ty got out without a word and retrieved the bottle. After tossing it into the back of the van, he slammed the side door shut before climbing back in.

Free just sat there shaking his head, as he handed Ty a ten-dollar bill.

Hey! Is that all I get?

You'da only got five dollars if she’da given you fifteen. But you did good out there, Free said, trying to sound pleased.

The bitch was lucky I needed the money, Ty said, pushing the ten into his pocket.

And that's another thing, why is she a bitch? Is it because she feared for the life of her child, when some young gang-lookin' punk with an earring in his ear struts up to her stranded car in the middle of the desert? She did exactly what I would want my wife to do.

"She just acted like that because I was Black. You know that, so don't try to play it off like you don't know!"

What was she supposed to act like? She didn't know you or what you wanted. Besides, she tipped you an extra five and even waved goodbye. You just cain't expect more than that! I give her a ‘Standing O’! I think she was a real lady. Too bad you cain't see that too.

You ain’t got a clue. I've had to put up with that bullshit all my life, Ty said quietly.

You get what you give. You pimped your ass over there like you owned the street, and she locked her doors. I would have too. Is your leg hurt or somethin'?

No, that's just the way I walk!

Well, you just might want to learn how to walk like a proud man instead of some swaggering street punk! Free said, pointing at Ty.

You don't get that finger out of my face I'm gonna…

You're gonna do what? Free broke in. Cry like you was cryin' when I picked your sorry ass up?

I wasn't crying!

Yes you were, Ty. Your eyes were all red and I could hear it in your voice. There ain't no need to lie about it. I know what I saw.

"Whatever, Ty said, as he looked out of the passenger-side window and pretended to watch the scenery go by, when in truth he was missing his mother and trying to hold back the new tears that were fighting their way to the surface. I don't want to talk about it," he said, his voice betraying him as it cracked.

Maybe you should though… Free said, leaving it at that.

The next twenty minutes of silence were interrupted only by an occasional sniffle, which Ty had made up his mind he'd blame on the cold he didn't have.

Suddenly, Free began braking and turning Gus onto the unpaved area between the eastbound and westbound lanes of traffic, cautiously getting back onto the highway heading west.

What's wrong now? You forget something back there? You're not taking me back are you?

Why does everything have to be about you? Free asked, sounding a little bothered. You're just a headache I'm waitin' to get over. And with any luck, it won't last much longer, he added as he pulled up behind a faded blue sedan with an older man on his knees trying to look at something beneath the car.

Wait here in the van, Free said with a glance, as