| Issue #27, September 29, 2006 |
HELP! ME & MY CAR ARE TRAPPED ON CTY. RD. 39
By Dan Rattiner
A diary was found between stalled cars on County Road 39 the other morning. If anyone knows who it belongs to, let me know. Here are the last entries dated Monday, September 25.
7a.m.
Me and Rob and Phil left Eastport in my truck and headed east out the Sunrise for the swimming pool job in Water Mill. Things went pretty smoothly and at 7:30 we got off the Sunrise and motored down to the Old Montauk Highway and stopped for coffee and a donut at the East Quogue Deli. Phil got a Newsday and Rob got one of those magazines where you put an ad in but you don’t pay for it unless you sell your boat. Rob has an 18-foot Bayliner he wants to get rid of. He didn’t even put it into the water this summer. So he’s wanting to see what the ads look like.
7:30 a.m.
We took a left at the diner in Hampton Bays where it is right across from Macy’s and we went up the ramp and out onto the Sunrise. Things are pretty backed up here. Lots of people heading east for work, and it’s about as jammed up as it gets. But we’ll get there.
8:30 a.m.
We’ve moved about fifty feet from the on-ramp. Not so good. Phil and Rob are playing cards. They yell at me when I stick this car into forward gear because it jerks forward and it knocks the cards onto the floor. I’ll have to get the tranny fixed soon. Some guy in a Ford 150 next to me for a good bit of this time, and I rolled down the window and we chatted a bit. We talked about the good old days, which was just three weeks ago, when the traffic eastbound just sped along at 55 after they decided to make the passing lane an eastbound lane every morning. Those were the days.
9 a.m.
Phil is asleep, snoring. Rob has the radio on as loud as it gets. Can’t understand how Phil can sleep through all that. “Must have been up late last night,” Rob says. We hear “Total Eclipse of the Heart” on WBAB. That was one of my favorite songs growing up. We haven’t moved at all since I last wrote an entry. But we’re trying.
9:30 a.m.
Gas is getting low. We moved another eighty feet since my last entry, so things are picking up. Phil says we’d just as well drink the beers because the ice is melting but I say no. He’s thirsty because he just woke up.
10 a.m.
We’re onto the Shinnecock Bridge now, so we can see the boats below going through the canal now. Pretty as a picture, let me tell you. Some old Stones on the radio. How do those guys do it?
10:30 a.m.
Still stuck on the Shinnecock Bridge but a few feet further east. Some guy jumped out of a plumber’s truck and screamed I can’t take it anymore, and he ran to the railing and jumped over. Made a big splash. But I think they pulled him out.
11 a.m.
Things started moving finally about ten minutes ago. We are now at what used to be called the North Road turnoff, but they’ve blocked it down at the bottom of the off-ramp and there’s this big sign says don’t even think about trying to take a shortcut. Less than a quarter tank of gas now. Phil has finished off an entire six pack. He has put on some stupid station on the radio that plays Mozart. I didn’t think that was even legal any more. We still have three six packs. I can’t drink and drive, so I’ll just write this here diary while the others do. Damn sacrifice if you ask me. We were supposed to have that all split up for lunch. Less than a quarter tank. I put on some suntan lotion on my window arm. Plenty of that left. Don’t want it to look too funny compared to the other one.
11:30 a.m
Phil banged on the door of this Toyota in the other lane and demanded their beer. I do not approve of this behavior. We are almost to the Texaco where the Sunrise ends. Anybody eat at the Lobster Inn? I sat on the hood for a while and shouted it out. Warmed my butt, then got back in. Phil and Rob are singing drinking songs. Anybody know “99 Bottles of Beer?” Rob says he wants to go out and get gas as we are almost out, but I tell him no, so he gets out anyway and runs away. Then he comes back because he forgot the gas can, but then he curls up in the bed in the back next to the can and falls asleep. I can see him in my mirror there.
12 noon
Got to the Texaco, but it wasn’t easy. We actually ran out of gas about fifty yards before it, and it’s uphill and all and I just had to keep my foot on the brake so I wouldn’t go backwards into this minivan behind me and I did that but it gave me a bad leg cramp. Woke up Rob and Phil because I wanted them to push and they said no way and fell onto the floor. I don’t know how they did that. There’s not much room there. No. There they are. The guy in the minivan pushed us up to the pump, cursing and spitting but he did it. Real big guy. Thanks bud. F—k —f, he says. So now we are out of our place in line.
12:30 p.m.
We’re back on the road, I guess five feet more now, but we didn’t have enough money between us for the gas, but they did take our last six pack for the last bit. So now it’s just us and the open road, ha, and the pool equipment and all the naked girls and hoodlie hoo and man, the sun is strong. I just need a nap.
1 p.m.
This may be my last entry. There’s a cop car three cars behind us trying to get up to me to take us in or something. He’s blocked though, so I don’t know how long this is going to take but I shouldn’t have shoved that guy from the highway department. I’m sorry about that. Rob is still here. Phil is gone. He bailed about fifteen minutes ago. Ran into a motel. Then I don’t know where he went. Shouldn’t of backed into that Hummer. But what the hell. War is war and all that. I’ll just duck down here under the driver’s seat, uh oh, must have lurched forward again. Chee. Here they come. No, officer. No, officer. Yes, officer. Who? Not me. Just going to work that’s what. We’ll get it right. Sure, I’ll get out of the car. I can walk that line, I can I can. How far ahead is that bagel place? Don’t know either, sir. Anybody reads this, call my wife, Amy, at 462-8111, tell her, tell her, oh I don’t know.
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