I was tired beyond being tired. The hum of the road conspired to close my eyes despite all the trouble I took to keep them open. I had been driving for the past twelve hours with short stops for food and gasoline and I still had quite a ways to drive yet, but my new 2015 VW Beetle was chewing up the miles and spitting them back out. Still, I was tired beyond being tired.
My name is James Ross and I was twenty- five and single when I started this trip from my native New Hampshire to spend the days driving out to see my girlfriend who had moved to a small town in Southern California after our graduation from grad school. Rhianna was also twenty-five and had the most fantastic body I had ever seen. Red haired and slim with small, tight breasts and hips just made to fuck. Her pussy was as tight as a virgin pussy—in fact; I was the one who took it from her back in high school when we were both eighteen. We both ate right and worked out at least three times a week with long runs on the off days. If Rhianna weighed more than 105 pounds spread over her 5 foot 2 inch frame, I would have been very, very surprised. I was six inches taller and about 40 pounds heavier than Rhianna. My hair is as red as flame, and my eyes a steely blue unless I'm angry and then they are a battleship gray.
This was my fourth day of hard solo driving and I was halfway across Texas on I-20 and had been making damn good time until the fog had rolled in from nowhere. I literally could not see ten feet in front of me and I slowed down from the 75 MPH that I had been driving on the interstate. Then something happened that I cannot explain. I seemed to have fallen asleep at the wheel and when I awoke, the pavement under my wheels was not as smooth as before and my car looked and handled differently. When the fog lifted, I found myself on an unmarked road with a small town up ahead. Then I started seeing some rather nice old antique cars, but somehow they looked brand new and my VW looked to be from the same general era. Now, I am not much of an old car buff, but these cars looked to be 1930s vintage and were in mint condition. There was still something in the back of my brain that told me something else was a little bit off.
I looked at the crazy gas gauge in my car and saw that the arrow was pointing to empty in a rather threatening way. I saw a gas station up ahead and pulled in to the single pump. An attendant came out and opened the trunk in the front of the car only to find my suitcase and a spare tire and jack in there. He looked puzzled and I told him the engine was in back. He opened my trunk and found the old air-cooled engine. The attendant then checked the oil and the belts. Then he asked if I wanted to fill her up. The gas pump read a mere ten cents a gallon and I said sure.
"What kind of car is this mister?" a fellow standing near the door to the garage asked.
"It's a VW."
"What's that?"
"It's a Volkswagen."
"Hey that sounds like one of them Kraut cars," came from the guy standing next to the original talker.
"Yes, it's a German car."
"Now why would a young feller like you be driving some goddamn German car when we are at war with the bastards?"
"At war?"
"Yeah, at war. Where you been? A couple of days after those damn Japs bombed Pearl Harbor, the Germans declared war on us. Course it was all FDR's fault, him giving war materials to England in return for a lease on some English bases close to us. I don't know who is worse, FDR or Hitler. Both of them got a mean streak in them."
"What the hell are you talking about? That war was over..." Then something clicked in my brain. Somehow, I had entered a time warp and was back in the early 1940's. "Ah, I'm thinking of the wrong war. How much for the gas?"
"A buck twenty-five. You must've been riding on fumes." I handed over a dollar twenty-five without thinking about it and the attendant took it without looking at it.
"Say, where can a feller get something to eat?"
"Best—and only—place in town to eat is over at Penelope's Restaurant. And, she's also got a couple of rooms to rent if you're ready to call it a day. Isn't much more around here for a long ways and it's almost dark. Just tell her Ronnie sent ya."
"I sure will." I pulled the car to the curb right in front of the restaurant and went inside.
The restaurant reminded me of the way my grandmother's kitchen used to smell when she was alive. The smell of several different meats cooking spiced up with the tang of spices and a trace of alcohol and tobacco—of course my grandmother never let alcohol or tobacco come into her house, never mind her dining room or kitchen.
I sat down at a corner table where I could watch everything going on in the room. My daddy who fought in the Gulf War way back in 1991 told me that by keeping people in front of you like that you avoided anybody sneaking up behind you. It made sense to me so I followed his advice in the choice of seats whenever and wherever I could.
A pretty young girl came over to the table and asked what I would like for supper? I pretended to look around for a menu while I was really checking her out. Penelope had smallish breasts that still stretched her tight shirt out and the prettiest blue eyes I think I have ever seen.
"Well, if you have a menu that I could look at, I might be able to decide."
"Don't have no menu except what's written on the board. What's your name any way?"
"Oh, I see. Uh, my name's Jim. You have a Diet Coke?"
"What kind of Coke? What the blue blazes is a 'diet' coke? I have never in my born days heard of a diet anything."
"I'm just pulling your knee, sweetheart. I'll have some unsweet ice tea."
"Listen here Mister Jim. Penelope is not your sweetheart and Penelope Kincaid don't know what you mean by diet coke and all our tea has got lot of sugar in it! Take it or leave it, 'less you want something a bit harder than that. I got some 200 proof ever clear that'll put the hair on your chest. I just can't serve it if the sheriff is around, if you get my drift."
"I see. With a choice like that, I guess it'll be ice tea with sugar then."
"Now we got that settled, Jim, what do you want to eat? I suggest the beef brisket with smashed up potatoes and greens. Mighty fine eating. 'Less you want fried chicken with the same fixings. But, I wouldn't want it because it's leftovers from the parson's visit last Sunday."
"OK, Miss Penelope. I won't give you any more of a hard time. I'll have the brisket with the fixings." As I looked around, I saw a half dozen people in the restaurant watching the two of us spar over what I was going to have to eat and drink for dinner. They were almost all smiling at me and a couple of the men lifted their glasses to me in a silent toast. A few of the others shook their heads sadly as if to say that Penelope had got the best of another man. My eyes went straight to her ass as she turned around to get my meal and drink. Such a pretty ass to match such a beautiful bosom. I sighed and waited for my food.
A boy brought my tea to me and set it down with a wink. "Guess you got the best o' my sister Penelope, huh, mister?"
"I'm not sure who got the best of whom."
