"Oh, dammit all to hell!" The old man could not get the old car to start no matter what he did. He turned to Hank and said, "You're goin' to have to get out and give me a push. Get me goin' fast enough, I can pop the clutch." Hank figured he couldn't argue with a man who was packing heat, so he shrugged and got out of the car. Going around to the back, he tried, to no avail, to find a spot to put his hands that wasn't totally covered by road grime. Finding none, he went ahead and put his shoulder into it anyway. The street had a slight downslope, so it wasn't too difficult for him to get the Pinto going at a pretty good clip. The old man popped the clutch, and the old car roared to smoky life. He then jerkily stopped the car and waved for Hank to get back in.
Out of breath and feeling a bit faint, Hank went ahead and got back into the car, and they were soon motoring their way north on an expressway out of the city. When his head cleared up a bit, Hank asked where he was being taken. "That's for me to know and you to find out, son," replied his abductor, rather harshly. They drove on in silence for about another minute, with the old man occasionally sneaking glances at Hank, who was watching the city go by. Then he softened his tone a bit and said, "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to say it that way, or hurt your feelin's none. What I meant was, I know a place that serves a good cup of joe that don't cost no stinkin' five bucks, and I was thinkin' we could stop there and have us a little chat. And then I'll tell you what the hell's goin' on."
After taking the next exit ramp, the old man made a quick, blinkerless turn into a shabby-looking strip mall (causing the driver of the car behind them to lay on the horn good and hard), and they came to another jerky stop in front of a Super Donut shop. "They make a pretty mean chocolate nutty here," the old man said as he shut off the engine. "C'mon in with me. My treat." Hank looked at him with a quizzical look on his face for a few seconds, then shrugged his shoulders again and got out. "Don't forget to let me out!" shouted the old man after him. Hank walked around the car and opened the driver's side door. "Thank-you kindly, son," the old man grunted as he stood up. "Now, let's go wet our whistles!"
Hank was curious to know why he was being abducted, and he had never turned down an offer of a free donut before in his life, so he followed the old man into the shop. They made their selections, and as the clerk filled their coffee cups, the old man reached into his back pocket. After multiple, frustrating yanks and tugs, he finally managed to extract the fattest-looking wallet Hank had ever seen. He fished around in it for awhile before pulling out a few wrinkled one-dollar bills, and Hank couldn't help but notice that it wasn't a big wad of money that made the wallet bulge. Instead, it was a myriad of miscellaneous pieces of paper of all sorts and sizes, a bunch of business cards, and even what looked like a collection of travel brochures, many faded with age. The clerk counted out his change and gave him a receipt, which the old man carefully folded and added to (what could only be described as) his portable leather filing cabinet before jamming it back into his pocket, and Hank figured there would have to be a good sized dent in the old man's right buttock to comfortably accommodate such a monstrous thing.
The old man selected a table by the window for the two of them to sit at, saying he wanted to keep an eye on his car. "Everything I own is in that little beauty, and I'd be in a world of hurt if somebody stole her." Hank nodded his head as he chewed on his chocolate nutty. The old man blew on his drink a few times, then took a big swig. "Damn, that's hot!" he gasped. "Why do they always have to make it so hot?' He got up out of his seat and walked to the counter. A moment later, he came back with a cup of ice, and he promptly dropped a couple of cubes into his coffee. Hank had been watching him intently as he did this, all the while wondering where he had seen this man before. But try as he might, he just couldn't place him. Finally, he couldn't take it anymore.
"Who are you?"
The old man put his donut down and stared intently at Hank. "You really don't know who I am, do you son? Y'know, you and me used to be pretty tight."
"You look awful familiar to me, and I swear I know you from somewhere," said Hank. Then he added, "But I'm recovering from a head injury, and I lost a lot of my memory. You're just going to have to tell me, sir."
"All right. Fair enough. And I'll forgive you for not actin' happier to see me, since it's been quite a spell since we were last together," the old man replied, a huge smile lighting up his eyes. "It's me, Hank! Your DAD! Le'von Wendt himself! Right here in the flesh!"
Now there isn't one word in the entire English language to describe the feeling that jolted through Hank's mind and body just then. It was a mulligan stew of surprise, joy, shock, consternation, awe, confusion, stupefaction, bewilderment, astonishment, and wonderment all at once, and it was enough to make him start choking. After about a two-minute coughing fit that finally dislodged the tiny bit of nut that had gone down the wrong pipe, Hank looked up at the old man with eyes full of tears. "Dad? My dad?
The old man was standing up with both arms outstretched. "Yep. It's me, Hank. Your dear old dad!" The two men embraced, and they held each other so tightly and so long that the other patrons in the donut shop started feeling a bit uncomfortable. Eventually, they let each other go and sat back down at the table, tears streaming down both their cheeks. They used up great handfuls of napkins just to wipe their faces, and after a few minutes Hank felt he was composed enough to ask a few questions.
"Dad, where have you been all this time? Why did you go and leave us? Why haven't you called or written a letter or something? The questions tumbled out of Hank's mouth so fast the old man wasn't able to get a word in edgewise. Finally, he raised his hand to stop the interrogation and said, "I know, I know. I messed up. Jeeezzz. Give me a chance to speak, willya?" He then looked down at his empty coffee cup and frowned. "I've only had one cup. Let me go get one of them free refills first, and then I'll tell you everything you want to know.
(Next time: Oh, Montana! continues as Le'von tells his story... and drinks a lot of coffee, too.)
