Red Neck / short story

RED NECK  

The new Dual cab Ute was impressive. Nine hundred dollars a month for four years, it would want to be?”

The drive into town was as much about reassurance as it was for the Fish and Chips.

It was the start of the ‘long weekend’ and a blow-in, driving a BMW was stealing the last parking spot outside the ‘Charcoal Chuck.’

I did a U-turn and parked outside the Pub.

“Who’s next?” The young girl behind the counter asked. Two pieces of crumbed fish and one lot of chips” I said, queue jumping a few tourists

Positioning myself to look out through the glass door and across the highway to the Ute, I felt reassuringly to my jacket pocket for the keys. ‘Try the trousers?’ Not there. ‘Do I run across and get the keys, or do I wait for my order?’ Fate would decide:

Climbing into my Ute was a city kid. No more than seventeen; his baseball cap on back to front and thief written all over him.

“Hey that’s my fucking Ute!” I shouted.

Every face in the store turned. I was heading out through the door with my mind exploding. –“Get a description of him… Call the police… Throw a brick,” and all the time he was driving off in my Ute.

I looked inside the first parked car and there was a dog on the passenger seat. The next car was locked. The last was the BMW, windows down, skis on the roof, keys in the ignition and the radio playing “see you later alligator.”

I did a U turn across the medium strip and accelerated back past the Charcoal Chuck. The traffic sign said sixty. I was doing eighty. Passing the golf club the sign said eighty. I was doing ninety. An oncoming car flashed me. Shit I had no lights on. A glance at the Speedo and I was doing one hundred in an eighty zone.

He had about two minutes start on me and I just knew he was heading for the Freeway and then onto the Western suburbs. A steady one twenty passes most traffic. Maybe that’s what he’s thinking?

“Think smart?” One thirty.

The approach to the Freeway was a blur. Be cool. Everything comes to he who waits.

“Bullshit…” I screamed.

“Why are we having this conversation? How fast can this car go?”

“To fast… Think rationally. Any way what will you do if you catch him?”

“What do you mean if? When I catch him, I’ll tear his fucking head off.”

The phone on the console was vibrating.

“Who is it?” I asked

“Bastard…Bastard…” he shouted down the phone

I threw it behind the seat.

My phone rang.

“Who is it?” I ask.

“It’s me Anne. Where are you love?”

“I’m on the Freeway. Someone’s stolen the Ute”

“I can’t hear you. Did you get my crumbed fish?”

Then nothing……….

I have to point out that Anne is my wife of thirty four years.

The sign read Western Suburbs straight ahead. At this point he could have taken the exit but he looked a Westie through and through.

I can’t believe it, he’s only three hundred meters ahead of me and I’m gaining on him. “Slow down. Don’t pass him. Phone the police. What a brilliant idea.”

 I dialled the number and after three rings I heard a recorded message.

“You have dialled emergency your call is being connected” Two more rings and a woman answered. “Emergency, Police, Fire, or Ambulance, which service do you require?”

“Police?”

“What state are you calling from?”

“New South Wales”

“What is the name of your nearest major town?”

“Campbletown”

“Connecting you now sir”

Three rings and a very soft male voice answered.

“Western Suburbs Police Station Constable Christian speaking, how can I help you?”

“Someone’s stolen my ute”

“When did you last see your vehicle sir?”

“I’m looking at it.”

“I thought you said it was stolen.”

“I did. I’m following it”

“Could I have the registration number of your vehicle sir?”

“I’m going to have to get a closer.”

“That’s ok sir. Can you give me the make and number of the vehicle you’re driving at the moment?”

“Err…”

“Are you still their Sir?”

 “Yes”

“Could you please give me the make and number of the vehicle your driving?”

“I don’t know the number. I borrowed it. It’s a dark blue BMW with skis on top. He’s taking the off ramp… He’s taking the off ramp…”

“Calm down sir.?”

“He’s turning right over the Freeway and down past the University.”

“I see you are familiar with the town. If you could remain calm, follow the vehicle at a safe distance, stay on the phone and I’ll link you with the Highway patrol?”

 “This is Sergeant Dobbs of the Western Suburbs Highway patrol. What is your speed and location?”

I don’t like the sound of him.

Realities check…Steeling a motor vehicle, speeding in a stolen motor vehicle and using a mobile phone while speeding in a stolen motor vehicle. I hung up.

“Ok, I’ve just given them my name address and the rego number, which means he knows where I live.

Besides the fines, what’s the worst that could happen to me? The thief pulls up outside a drug house. I follow him into the back yard and ask him politely to give me back the key’s, at which point four of his mates give me a kicking and throw me to the Rottweilers.

Just as that thought hit me, my phone rang again.

“This is Sergeant Dodd’s, are you their sir?”

“Yes Sergeant, we got cut off.” It was reassuring to hear his voice

“I’m following him towards the second set of lights and I think he’s turning left.”

“That’s fine, just call out as you go.”

“We have just turned left Sergeant and I’m passing a concrete supply place and car repair joint. Are you still there Sergeant?”

“Yes I’m here. You’re doing fine.”

 “Sergeant I’m heading under what looks like the Freeway and theirs a roundabout. He’s turning right and I’m behind him… Are you there Sergeant?”

Silence…

 “Sergeant, answer me, please. He’s indicating right and turning into a Cul-de-sac. The Cul-de-sac is full of cars and people”

“The Westies stopped behind a Volvo. He’s getting out and trying to make a run for it, I’m going after him.”

I was right behind him as he reached the Volvo. I spun him around. I was as mad as hell.

“What do you think you’re playing at?” I screamed. But before he could answer the Highway patrol pulled up behind us. Out jumped the Sergeant.

“Christopher” said the Sergeant, with an amazed look on his face.

“Dad” replied, the Westie with a relieved look on his face.

The Sergeant looked confused. The old man inside the Volvo looked terrified.

“Christopher” continued the sergeant, “I thought you were on your way to Christian College”.

“I was, but while I was taking a rest stop, I saw that old man steeling my Volvo. So I jumped in the first empty vehicle and I followed him.”

Sergeant Dobbs tapped on the Volvo driver’s window.

“Would you please step out of the vehicle sir?

A very nervous elderly gentleman opened the door and struggled to his feet.

“Sergeant” he said, his voice quivering.  “I know you may find this hard to believe but that blue Subaru Impressa in front of us is mine. It was a present from my wife for my eightieth birthday and the Priest, stole it.”

While sergeant Dobbs was radioing for assistance, my mobile phone rang.

“Hello it’s me Anne?” 

“Anne you’re not going to believe what’s happening. I’m in a Cul-de-sac with a Policeman, a Priest and a dozen stolen cars, and one of theme’s my Ute.”

“Your right; I’m not going to believe it. I’ve just had a phone call from the local Pub and your Ute is parked outside with the lights on and the keys in the ignition.

The end