Vagabonds: Anthology of the Mad Ones Vagabonds Vol. 3 | Page 53

I grab the case with both hands, tell him to have a good night, and head for
the exit.
I walk out of the distributor and find the halter-top girl and her
boyfriend are long gone. The distributor is in a small strip mall that
includes a sandwich shop and an auto parts store. If you take a left out of
the parking lot and drive south you find yourself on a winding road that
takes you past car dealership after car dealership. Unlike in the suburbs,
where car dealerships and retail outlets tend to amass along flat stretches
of land with straight roads, the stores and dealerships in this part of town
are situated among the glacially formed hills of southwestern
Pennsylvania. Directly across the highway from the distributor, a tree
covered hill occupied by billboards for cell-phone providers and insurance
companies juts several hundred feet in the air. A half-mile north of the
distributor, the Liberty tunnel burrows underneath a part of town called
Mt. Washington. A half-mile south of the distributor, the road splits into
three different routes, each heading off into the hills at slightly different
grades.
The sandwich shop next to the distributor is a franchise restaurant.
I look inside as I walk by and notice a mother sitting with her son by the
window. The boy looks like he's in first grade. He looks up at his mother
as he swallows a chunk of sandwich. No one in the restaurant notices me.
I place my case of beer in the trunk and head for the driver's seat.
Before I sit down I take a look around. You can't see it, because the hills
are blocking out the horizon, but the sun is starting to set. The thin, patchy
cirrus clouds overhead are orange on one side and grey on the other. The
air is finally starting to turn warm after a long winter. I get into the car and
maneuver it from the parking lot out onto a four lane highway (five if you
count the bus in the middle of the road). I head north toward the Liberty
Tunnel and drive between a bronzeworks and a ramp that leads up to the
busway. At the mouth of the Liberty Tunnel, you have to wait at a
stoplight underneath an overpass. Pidgeons camp out in the support beams
of the road overhead and either side of the underpass is covered in a thick
layer of pidgeon shit.
At the light I have two options. I can go straight or I can turn left.
Going straight will take me north on I-79. This will lead me back to my
parent's house where, at this hour, I know they will be making their after
dinner coffee and watching the news. Mom will be dialing in a station
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