1. To move in a clumsy manner or with a heavy tread.
The truck rocked back and forth as we went over another deep pothole, and Gary only mildly swerved to miss it. It felt almost simultaneous as I squooshed and scraped my shoulder against the door handle and window, as my butt left the seat, the skin of my thighs feeling as if they were being ripped from the faux-leather seats; it was so hot, they wanted to stay stuck to the vinyl.
"What the hell, Gary. Jeez," I'd say, as I set myself right again, trying not to recreate that peeling feeling between my legs and the seat. I hated those seats. Too hot in the summer and too cold in the winter, but Gary just loved them. He thought the whole vehicle was top notch. It was vintage Chevrolet and red and in just about mint condition. Only the bench-style seat needed to be reupholstered and leave it to Gary to pick the ugliest, banana-yellowist, most uncomfortable fabric ever.
"Oh calm down now over there. Quit your fussin'. You're the one that asked for the ride, so I don't wanna hear it."
That was true. I did ask. I was working on getting my permit, but couldn't get anyone to agree to teach me. I guess I asked too many questions. He was wrong about one thing though. I hadn't asked for a ride. I had asked for a lesson, and so I said as much:
"I thought I was going to be drivin', not ridin'."
"I know. I know. I know. But what or who made you think that I would let you drive Julianne?"
"Julianne? Julianne! You named your truck after your ex-girlfriend? Are you crazy?! Oh my god, you are crazy. I see it now. I really and truly see it...let me out of this vehicle..." I make sure the door is locked and then I start pulling at the handle, like I'm trying to escape, as we're speeding down the road. I wasn't laughing for long before Gary slams on the breaks and swerves to the side of the road, bringing us to an abrupt stopped position and again my upper body flies dangerously close to the windshield. I notice outside the windows the clouds of upset dust and dirt swirling and aiming to settle back down to the earth. I'm stilling bracing myself, hands against the glove box.
"Is this how you think you're going to get me to let you drive my truck??" Gary howls.
I'm still recovering from the sudden shift in movement, so I don't answer him right away.
"Huh, Gracie? Is that what you're thinking? Because pissing me off is going to get you nothing of what you want. I'll tell you that."
He's sitting facing me now with his left arm slung over the steering wheel; his right knee bent at an acute angle and propped up on the seat, pointing in my direction. Even though his words are tough, his tone gets softer as he says the last few words.
I look up over at him and say, "Well it got you to pull over, didn't it? Now come on. Let's switch seats, huh?"
He just looks at me and starts to laugh, a deep chuckle. He slaps the back of the seat about halfway between our bodies. I jump a little, but I'm not scared. Laughing means I'm about to get what I want.
"Come on, Gare. Just let me try. Yeah?"
He slaps the seat again in the same spot.
"Well goshdarnit Gracie. Why didn't you just ask nicely in the first place? Come on. Crawl over." He puts his right foot back on the truck floor, clicks open the door and slides out all in three quick movements. As I slide over, the door knocks shut and I can barely believe it worked. I'm settling, nervously, into the seat curiously setting my feet on the pedals and fingering all the bells and whistles when Gary plops himself down on the passenger side. I feel like I'm in heaven, but I have this feeling that Gary, my guide, is about to show me that heaven ain't all it's cracked up to be.
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