The Ride

By Domenic Pugliares

Jake, Don and Shelly were inseparable friends. Jake and Don since preschool and Shelly from the moment she entered their lives as a sophomore in college. When Jake lost his dad unexpectedly all he had to remember him was his prized possession, a 1968 blue convertible Oldsmobile 442. That and a small inheritance burning a hole in Jake

• Language: English
• Publisher: Go To Publish
• Release date: Nov 17, 2021
• ISBN: 9781647494797

Domenic Pugliares

Domenic Pugliares is a serial entrepreneur. He built one of the largest commercial travel companies in the United States before selling it in the late 1990s. He then went on to start, build, buy, and sell a number of companies while accumulating commercial investment real estate. Currently, he is the owner of Dunegrass Country Club in Old Orchard Beach, Maine, where he is diligently working on his golf game, as well as his writing skills.

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The Ride

Copyright © 2021 by Domenic Pugliares

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher or author, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law.

Although every precaution has been taken to verify the accuracy of the information contained herein, the author and publisher assume no responsibility for any errors or omissions. No liability is assumed for damages that may result from the use of information contained within.

ISBN-ePub: 978-1-64749-479-7

Printed in the United States of America

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Contents

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

"To Serena my wife, my partner, my soulmate. Love you forever

Chapter 1

The three of them were driving down a quickly darkening long desert highway somewhere in Mexico. They had been driving all day long and getting tired and slap happy. The fact that Jake Watson, Don Williams, and Shelly Johansen were smoking some incredible pot might have something to do with it. They had bought the pot earlier in the day. They were having lunch at a small seaside cantina when the young waiter asked them if they were interested in some of the special marijuana that he grew himself. His approach was a matter of fact and without fear of reprisal. The three of them felt oddly comfortable ordering tacos and pot all at the same time.

His name was Julio. He wore dregs in his hair; flip flops on his feet and clothes old enough they could easily have passed for rags in the urban excesses of The United States of America. As comfortable as he was taking orders for tacos and pot at the same time, he was just as comfortable in the way he dressed and carried himself. When he asked if they wanted to buy some pot, Jake the more sensible and cautious of the group immediately put his defenses up. Hey isn’t that stuff against the law here like it is in parts of the states? The law, man that’s for people who live by the rules of the man. That’s what you gringo’s in the states deal with. Not here man, not me. You need to smoke this special stuff man. It will make you forget everything about the law. Don who was clearly the least responsible of the whole group jumped in before his best friend in the whole world screwed up what was definitely going to be a great score. Hey dude what did you say your name was? Julio Ok Julio what we talking about here? This some shitty backyard stuff or is it the real thing? I tell you what gringo; you take a hit and tell me. Julio reached into his pocket and magically pulled a pipe and small bag of what was clearly pot out of his baggy shorts. Julio put his small ordering pad of paper and pen on the table. Grabbed a Bic lighter out of his other pocket and lit his pipe and took a long hit out of it. He then handed it to Don. Jake could not believe what he was seeing. Are you fucking nuts Don? We are going to end up in a Mexican prison never to be seen again. Julio just looked up in the sky and blew out a long plume of smoke laughing the whole time. This made the smoke go up in the sky in hitches almost like smoke rings just not carefully formed. Man is your buddy always like this? I think I need to give you a little extra for free to chill him out. Yeah I’m used to it we’ve been best friends since we were kids. Let me take a hit and see what this shit is all about. Don took his lighter out of his pocket and lit the pipe again sucking a huge amount of smoke into his lungs. The smoke seemed smoother and sweeter than anything he had ever experienced in his life. This was not Don’s first rodeo smoking pot by far so that was saying a lot. He half expected it to be so harsh that he would be coughing for the next half hour. The opposite was happening, he was able to suck in copious amounts of smoke into his lungs and hold it there for what seemed like minutes. Actually by the time he finally decided to let the smoke slowly out of his lungs he was already high as a kite. He didn’t feel paranoid as pot almost always made him feel. Quite the opposite actually, he felt empowered and mellow all at the same time.

There were a few other patrons in the bar. Most of them looked like locals or at least people that have been there long enough they seemed like locals. None of them seemed to care or mind that the little cantina they were eating in now was engulfed in a low lying cloud of pot smoke. With the open-air format of the cantina, it would not last long in any case. This seemed to calm Jake down a little but with his eyes darting back and forth casing the joint it was clear he was still on edge. Don did not even ask Julio’s permission now that he felt more empowered than he did just a moment ago. Jake dude, you have got to try this. Come on there is at least another hit left. This is the best shit eva! Are you fucking crazy Don we are in the middle of a restaurant! Get that away from me, I ain’t ending up in some Mexican prison. He pushed the pipe away. Julio stood there waving his right index finger back and forth as if he was scolding Jake. You man … need this more than anyone. In this place, I am the boss. You are safe I promise. Jake was staring at Julio then shifting to Don and over to Shelly who just shrugged her shoulders. He knew he was going to lose this battle. Julio said. The tacos are almost as good as the pot man and if you don’t try my Ganga you can’t eat a taco. He had a sly smile on his face as he gave his pipe to Jake. Jake thought this was all too surreal but so was everything that ever happened when he was with Don and Shelly. He finally relented and took the pipe and lighter from Don. Julio and Don started clapping and then without any other encouragement so did the other patrons of the cantina. So if there was any doubt that everyone knew what was going on, that quickly went by the wayside.

Jake had to smile as he took a long but not quite as long a toke on Julio’s pipe. The transformation on his face was immediate. If you were watching, which Shelly was, you could see the tension leave Jake’s shoulders and his facial muscles relax. Once Jake let go he could be as fun as the next guy it just took a little longer for him to get comfortable. He held the smoke in for as long as he could and as he slowly exhaled, the smile on his face got larger and larger. Wow, holy shit what the fuck is that? Shelly had enough, she ripped the pipe out of his hand. What do I look like chopped liver you assholes. Let me try that stuff! That got a chuckle from the patrons at table two over from them. Julio hadn’t stopped smiling since he took his hit off the pipe. Shelly took what was left in the pipe and fired it into her lungs. She had a similar effect. She could feel her whole body turning limp the longer she held the smoke in her lungs. She blew the smoke out quickly because she felt herself losing control of all her inhibitions commensurate with the length of time the smoke stayed in her body. Holy shit I ain’t never smoked anything like that! Julio just smiled. Let me go get those taco’s we take care of the Ganga later. Shelly stopped him. Hey, Julio what do you call that pot of yours? Colitis Mamacita. Colitis what does that mean? Little buds Mamacita that’s what makes it so special. Hey, Jake that’s going to be my new name for you. Jake was just swirling at this point. What, what’s going to be my new name? Colitis, fool, you’re my little bud you dope, with dope being the key word." The three of them burst into uncontrollable laughter. Some of the last real laughter they all ever had.

Muncie’s do not adequately describe what happened almost immediately after they all hit on Julio’s pipe. They ate the tacos they ordered then an order of Nachos followed by some more tacos. All for what it would have cost for one of them to go to McDonald’s back in the states. The pot was also cheap by US standards. It didn’t make a difference because as far as they were all concerned it could have cost ten times as much and it still would have been a bargain.

Jake was the first to speak as they started driving to their final destination of Puerto Vallarta which was still days away. Can you believe that dude Julio? How chill was he? Can you imagine? May I please help you? Tacos, Nachos, Enchiladas, and oh don’t let me forget the best fucking pot you ever smoked in your life, all for the cost of a movie and a bag of popcorn. This made Shelly laugh so hard she was snorting uncontrollably, which in turn made the boys laugh uncontrollably.

Don who was never cautious said. You think I overdid it when I bought two ounces? We get caught with that much in the states they figure you’re a dealer. Jake started laughing. Here they think you’re an underachiever if you have less than a pound on you! That got Shelly laughing and snorting again.

Chapter 2

They started driving down the endless strait highway heading in the direction of Puerto Vallarta which was south. They were hoping but not counting on ending up somewhere near Cabo San Lucas by nightfall. The unexpected long lunch, Julio’s special Colitis, and Corona’s put them behind their pseudo time frame. That didn’t make a difference for Jake. He was driving his late dad’s 1968 Oldsmobile convertible 442. The perfectly restored car was painted in its original silver blue with a blue interior and a contrasting black canvas top. That day or any time the sun was out nobody would know it was a black top because it was down anytime the rain was not falling. The car was his father’s pride and joy. He actually bought it for cash the week after he got home from Viet Nam. There was no doubt he was buying a 442 but this was not the car he had envisioned. As he was lying in wait in the pouring rain in the rice field and jungles of Viet Nam all he could dream of was getting back to Southern California and cruising the beaches in his new 442 with his high school sweetheart MaryAnn Wolinski riding shotgun as he cruised the boulevard looking f or a race.

Unlike most young men of the day who bought their first new car, beat it to death, and then sold it to forever regret their separation. Jake’s dad Joe bought his car and kept it forever or at least until his death. Even though that particular car was not the car he had exactly dreamed of owning. He had plans of buying a black Oldsmobile 442 with a big silver stripped down the middle of the car. He wanted black buckets with a console and the requisite four-speed in the console. He envisioned a stripped down hard top that was just enough plush to keep his heart throb happy but plenty of horsepower and torque to satisfy his lead foot. That was until he walked into Daly Oldsmobile in San Diego with MaryAnn his wife-to-be. He was so excited to have the salesman pull out the three-page order form so he could check off what he wanted and not check off what he didn’t feel he needed. That was where the dream ended for him. They walked into the dealership and there was Bessy or at least what the silver-blue 442 had from there and ever after had been known as in the Watson family.

There she was with the fluorescent lights shining on her new paint job. MaryAnn who was holding Joe’s hand when they walked in the dealership let it go and walked, actually almost ran to the passenger door. She opened it and sat in the seat, and that as they say is how the story goes. Joe really wanted that black and silver hard top Oldsmobile, but his resolve melted quickly as he saw the love of his life in what would become the second love of his life. There was no denying that the silver-blue 442 convertible was a sexy ride albeit slightly less menacing than a black and silver boulevard bruiser.

They bought the car that day and drove it off the lot the next. It became Joe and MaryAnn’s daily driver for many years. It was the car they used to go on their honeymoon a year later in the Redwood forest and their even more memorable stay in Mendocino on the beautiful Pacific coast highway. They had planned to have children shortly thereafter. Unfortunately, things did not work out the way they planned. After many years of trying and a dim outlook from their fertility doctor, they had all but given up. Their car Bessy and their two Bulldogs became their children. That was until MaryAnn became pregnant at the age of forty. She had so long ago given up on having children that when she missed her period