Kid, You Got Moxie: Part I
I was told many times that it’s not safe to hitchhike. I see advice as a challenge. This advice has triggered my inner defiant curiosity. I decided that I was going to hitchhike from New York to Chicago.
Many streaks of electricity danced through the late-night sky, and thunder rumbled strong enough that I could feel the earth tremble. I was drenched and decided a ride couldn’t be worse than this weather.
A two-tone green and black 341A 1928 Cadillac Town Sedan stands beside me. My dad was a vintage car enthusiast, and he had me memorize his three favorite cars: a 1928 Cadillac Town Sedan, a 1920 Rolls Royce Phantom Limousine, and a 1928 Falcon Knight Roadster. The driver rolls down the window, “Hey, do you need a ride?”
A blessing in the darkness. It’s a miracle he showed up — I haven’t seen a car for miles. I replied, “Yes” to the ride of my life.
My father would be so jealous that I am riding in a showroom mint condition car of his dreams. He’d also be pissed that I got in a car with a stranger.
I extended my hand to the driver, “Hi, I am Catherine; my friends call me Cat. Thanks for the ride.”
The starch young man with slicked hair replied, “Yeah, I am Al. Where are you heading, kid?”
I ignored his jab at my age; he may be just about four or five years older than me, “I am aiming for Chicago.”
With a deep Brooklyn accident, “Yeah, me too.”
We discussed where we came from: “I am a bored Hudson Valley college gal looking for adventure. New York isn’t the glamorous state as many outsiders care to believe. It’s nothing to me.”
Al shrugged, “College, huh? Are you smart? You got moxie. I flunked out of school in the sixth grade. My education was on the streets. I learned more from the street crowd in a year than six years of school.”
I couldn’t judge a dropout who drives such a rare and valuable car, “I hear you, Al, same shit, different day to earn a paper that gets you nowhere. I hope to find my life in Chicago.”
He pulled a cigar from a wooden case and huffed, “Life in Chicago, maybe. Kid, life is wherever you choose to leave a legacy.” He lit the cigar. A smell that will forever haunt me.
We drove in silence while he enjoyed his cigar. “Kid, sorry,” he rolled down his window and blew the smoke out. The smoke disappeared into the dense fog.
I will always look up to Mr. Compone. He is the power, strength, and confidence that I still need to improve. Under his watchful eye, I, too, will be worthy of the title Kingpin — you will see.
My eyes slowly flutter open, just a dream. A heartbreaking dream of someone I am not. Someone I hope to be. Thankfully, I have many dream-filled nights visiting Mr. Compone in Chicago.
My usual day started and ended with the typical things that go on daily. Once in bed, I fell asleep only to continue this dream of Mr. Compone. I am now in Chicago and searching for Mr.Compone. I find his office and look him up. I have no problem meeting with him. Mr. Compone asked how I liked Chicago. I replied, saying it’s ok, but I’m missing home. Mr. Compone said girl, could you come to work for me? I was astonished he even asked. Before I replied, “Yes, I would love to,” I woke up. I must finish this dream. I must.
The end, for now.
Mojha R. MacDowell
2023
