65
120.
She always kept a picture of her grandpa over the speedometer in her grandpa's truck. It was a picture of him from the 1960's, he was playing with his band at an old bar. It was big enough to cover up the whole speedometer, which is why she got all those speeding tickets probably. She guessed she didn't need it, but the truth was she did. She was always speeding, going sometimes faster than a bullet.
"Why are you going so fast?" I would ask.
"I told you I have to meet my grandpa at the coffee shop."
She would keep the window cracked and sometimes the wind rushing outside would pick up the picture for a second and I could see how fast she was going.
Days like these she would be going 120.
Days like these I'd wonder if I'd make it home.
It's amazing she got that truck to go that fast, considering when she first got it they told her specificly to not go over 70 or it would break down. Of course, she did way more than 70 all the time and it hasn't broken down once yet. It's even more amazing considering where she goes.
She goes to Canton everyday saying she has to meet her grandpa.
At 120 mph everytime.
I don't know how she does it.
Everyday she'll pick me up to go meet our friends downtown and instead she'll take I-20 and headed in the opposite direction.
Headed towards Canton.
Towards the senoir apartments.
Towards apartment 15.
I don't know, I guess she went sort of crazy when her grandpa died.
She didn't use to be this way. She used to be sane. She used to not go to Canton everyday. And even now, she still the same. She's still the same girl who wasn't crazy thinking her grandpa was still alive. That is until she gets in the truck. She gets in the truck and it's like she has to be in Canton that second.
All of us think it's because she never said good-bye.
She waited too long.
Of course, we've all learned to accept it now. Everyone understands why we're an hour late because she drove to apartment 15 and remembered he isn't here anymore. That's why she has his truck. He left it to her.
We figure it's just her way of getting over it.
Today she is picking me up to go hang out with everyone at Starbucks.
I hop in the truck and her words were different today.
"I'm meeting my grandpa at the cemetery." She says.
The cemetery is in Bogata, a small town in East Texas. It's in Red River County. She says he's down there making sure he still has four plots. She says after they'll stop by Aunt Elvis' and say hello.
Bogata is three hours away.
Today we'll be three hours late.
We drive all the way there. The sun is setting. By the time we get back Starbucks will be closed and everyone will be at home. She pulls into the gate outside the cemetery. No one is there, not a soul. She gets out and stops by to pick up some wild daisies. I'm confused, what was she doing? By now she would've been heading back.
I get out and follow her because I'm worried. Maybe she has really lost it this time. Maybe she really has gone crazy.
She walks up to this grave and stops. Bending down she puts flowers on top. "Hi grandpa..." She says.
And then it hits me. This is where he's buried.
I take a closer look at his headstone. It read:
Lewis Phillip Gee
December 30, 1926-March 2, 2007
I took my cell out of my pocket to see what day it was. Today is March 2, 2010. Today is the three year anniversary of his death.
She stayed silent and got up, walking to her truck. Silently we both got in and drove off.
We didn't stop by Aunt Elvis'.
We just drove.
When we got to the highway, the wind picked up the picture.
She was driving 65.
"Why are you going so fast?" I would ask.
"I told you I have to meet my grandpa at the coffee shop."
She would keep the window cracked and sometimes the wind rushing outside would pick up the picture for a second and I could see how fast she was going.
Days like these she would be going 120.
Days like these I'd wonder if I'd make it home.
It's amazing she got that truck to go that fast, considering when she first got it they told her specificly to not go over 70 or it would break down. Of course, she did way more than 70 all the time and it hasn't broken down once yet. It's even more amazing considering where she goes.
She goes to Canton everyday saying she has to meet her grandpa.
At 120 mph everytime.
I don't know how she does it.
Everyday she'll pick me up to go meet our friends downtown and instead she'll take I-20 and headed in the opposite direction.
Headed towards Canton.
Towards the senoir apartments.
Towards apartment 15.
I don't know, I guess she went sort of crazy when her grandpa died.
She didn't use to be this way. She used to be sane. She used to not go to Canton everyday. And even now, she still the same. She's still the same girl who wasn't crazy thinking her grandpa was still alive. That is until she gets in the truck. She gets in the truck and it's like she has to be in Canton that second.
All of us think it's because she never said good-bye.
She waited too long.
Of course, we've all learned to accept it now. Everyone understands why we're an hour late because she drove to apartment 15 and remembered he isn't here anymore. That's why she has his truck. He left it to her.
We figure it's just her way of getting over it.
Today she is picking me up to go hang out with everyone at Starbucks.
I hop in the truck and her words were different today.
"I'm meeting my grandpa at the cemetery." She says.
The cemetery is in Bogata, a small town in East Texas. It's in Red River County. She says he's down there making sure he still has four plots. She says after they'll stop by Aunt Elvis' and say hello.
Bogata is three hours away.
Today we'll be three hours late.
We drive all the way there. The sun is setting. By the time we get back Starbucks will be closed and everyone will be at home. She pulls into the gate outside the cemetery. No one is there, not a soul. She gets out and stops by to pick up some wild daisies. I'm confused, what was she doing? By now she would've been heading back.
I get out and follow her because I'm worried. Maybe she has really lost it this time. Maybe she really has gone crazy.
She walks up to this grave and stops. Bending down she puts flowers on top. "Hi grandpa..." She says.
And then it hits me. This is where he's buried.
I take a closer look at his headstone. It read:
Lewis Phillip Gee
December 30, 1926-March 2, 2007
I took my cell out of my pocket to see what day it was. Today is March 2, 2010. Today is the three year anniversary of his death.
She stayed silent and got up, walking to her truck. Silently we both got in and drove off.
We didn't stop by Aunt Elvis'.
We just drove.
When we got to the highway, the wind picked up the picture.
She was driving 65.