{"id":2249,"date":"2007-10-14T21:40:04","date_gmt":"2007-10-14T21:40:04","guid":{"rendered":"http:\/\/www.3ammagazine.com\/3am\/beep-beep\/"},"modified":"2007-10-14T21:40:04","modified_gmt":"2007-10-14T21:40:04","slug":"beep-beep","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/www.3ammagazine.com\/3am\/beep-beep\/","title":{"rendered":"Beep Beep"},"content":{"rendered":"

By Amanda Pampuro.<\/p>\n

When the first flakes fell, I was watching. \u00a0 Like down after a pillow fight, the clumps drifted, piled, moved. \u00a0 It was as cold as Scrooge and I as bitter as my coffee. \u00a0 Within twenty minutes the road would be ice, not that that could stop me. \u00a0 To leave would be suicide, but to stay just felt wrong. \u00a0 I did not have a response to \u201cwhy” then, and I don’t have one now. \u00a0 It was a felling: get out. \u00a0 Now or never.
\n \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0
\nMy desk was piled high with a week’s chaos and as I threw things on the floor, breaking layers, digging for my keys, the phone rang. \u00a0 No one I would actually want to talk to would call now, so I ignored it. \u00a0 Like an omen, it kept on until I was safely on the frosted side of the glass window panes. \u00a0
\n \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0
\nPretending to be sick, the rusty car engine coughed before rrrving. \u00a0 More beautiful than silence, is the sound of grinding gears and gasoline when you are in a hurry. \u00a0 The radio static fought between Christmas Carols and \u201cWelcome to the Jungle,” briefly I wondered if this is how bad rap remixes start.
\n \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0
\nOn road trips, as kids, my brother and I would sit patiently in the car, coloring books closed, and zip lock baggies of animal crackers shut. \u00a0 Once the car turned onto the highway and merged into traffic, we went wild trying to fight boredom. \u00a0 Three years old, not even knowing what the highway was, I waited for my brother’s cue that we were there and it was good. \u00a0 Now on the highway, I breathed a sigh of relief. \u00a0 This is the no Uie zone, the point of no return. \u00a0 The heat kicked in and made my frigid nose prickle. \u00a0 The bipolar radio calmed down on a power ballad. \u00a0 The snow, though still raging, appeared serine. \u00a0 Except for a dark figure up ahead, the road stretched empty. \u00a0
\n \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0
\nDrawing closer to the shadow, I saw it come to life, and raise an arm. \u00a0 It waved. \u00a0 I slowed. \u00a0 Voices flooded my head, the CT drivers manual, \u201cpeople have been shot, beaten, and stabbed,” my mother, \u201cit’s not you I worry about, its other people,” the evening news \u201cthe body of Carol was finally found in a river,” and of my boss, \u201coh yeah I picked up this hitchhiker once, he was acting real funny. \u00a0 Later, I met him again on the beach, and tipped a cop off about him; turned out he was armed, dangerous, and on the run from the law.” \u00a0 I know there is never stories about a perfect four point oh GPA standing on the side of the road, and then buying the driver a new car as thanks or whatever. \u00a0 Nevertheless, each memory made me smile. \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0
\n \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0
\nI leaned, and cranked the window a little bit, \u201cEvening stranger.” \u00a0 The great overcoat bent down to the crack. \u00a0 \u201cWhere you heading?” \u00a0
\n \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0
\nThere is only one way to beat stereotypes–dramatic demonstration; however that is irrelevant to why I stopped. \u00a0 I could come up with a deep reason, like I felt bad and wanted to give my good dead of the day, or I saw a beacon of light, or that I was lonely and needed someone to drive with– but it is actually very simple. \u00a0 I just needed a destination.
\n \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0
\nThis was the trifecta of luck: a car saw me, the car stopped, and the driver was a chick. \u00a0 I don’t know how long I was walking before the snow, much less in it. \u00a0 You’d be surprised how many people are actually out driving in raging storms; unsurprising is the amount of jerks who just drove on by. \u00a0 Not that I blame them, me walking on the side of the road, I must have looked like a homicidal maniac. \u00a0
\n \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0
\nI know this looks bad. \u00a0 Really bad. \u00a0 Now, how did I even get here? \u00a0 One week ago, I was at fricking Yale. \u00a0 Not to visit. \u00a0 That was my school, I dormed on Yale campus, I ate in the Yale cafeteria, I have used the Yale urinals. \u00a0 To go from there to here, and of all things be hitchhiking, yeah it is quite the downer. \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0
\n \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0
\nLet’s try to stick to the short version, okay? \u00a0 I’ll admit it. I did not make the best of choices. \u00a0 It started out with a bunch of the guys being stupid, and next thing you know one of us is all like, \u201cdude, I have never robbed a bank before!” \u00a0 Next thing you know, the rest of us are all like, \u201cdude you are so right, man. \u00a0 Hey dude, dude, dude we should totally try it. \u00a0 We’re Yale dudes, dude, we could so do it. \u00a0 Dude.” \u00a0 Sadly I am not exaggerating on the primitive language. \u00a0 The night we came up with the plan, we were obviously all sloshed. \u00a0 The next night, however we weren’t, and we devised a slick agenda. \u00a0
\n \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0
\nI do not think discussing the details would be smart right now, but the scary thing is I think it would have worked. \u00a0 We talked about it like an innocent prank. \u00a0 It’s terrifying what intelligence in numbers aimed at the wrong cause can do. \u00a0 But hey, if you were in my place, you would have done the same too, right? \u00a0 Yeah didn’t think so. \u00a0
\n \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0
\nAnyway, the plan leaked. \u00a0 I swear it was Ned, he would do anything to get Donna to talk to him. \u00a0 She is the uptight Ivy League type chick. \u00a0 I can picture that slime ball, \u201cOh Donna, I’m so a man, do you know what this ski mask is for\u2026.” \u00a0 Within two days, the cops were investigating, and I did what any other bright young chap would do. \u00a0 I ran for it. \u00a0 The funny thing about being a freshman is you are banned from having an on-campus car. \u00a0It’s even funnier when your parents temporarily disown you for becoming a criminal, and you are afraid to call a cab because technically, you are on the run from the law. \u00a0 Take my advice kids, don’t try this at home. \u00a0
\n \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0
\nI’m not a bad kid. \u00a0 Four point oh GPA, okay not really but, NHS, FHS, HR, NHL fan club, all those fun acronyms. \u00a0 I figured if I was not at school, then I could not be tried and kicked out. \u00a0 Bad logic, but what do you want, I’m a PoliSci major for a reason. \u00a0 Though I knew I was not going home, and I was not going to school, I did not have so much as a direction to wander in. \u00a0 So far, I had been on a Casino Bound Bus, a horse and carriage and for a little while the bed of a redneck’s truck. \u00a0 It was awkward when he noticed I was there. \u00a0 Remember that old expression, \u201cat least it’s not raining,” well next on my list is to shoot the guy who first said it. \u00a0 I did, and boom I got snow. \u00a0
\n \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0
\nShe leaned, and cranked the window a little bit, \u201cEvening stranger. \u00a0 Where are you heading?” \u00a0 I lowered my icicled beard to speak to the crack, \u201cThat way sounds good,” I pointed up the road.
\n \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0
\nDespite my rant, I put all of this in the past, I swear, the second the car stopped. \u00a0 That was all I needed. \u00a0 I could lie and say I was lonely, or wanted to be able to prove that all drivers were not jerks or I wanted to head back and make things right or something deep. \u00a0 Truth be told, I just needed a destination. \u00a0 \u00a0<\/p>\n

# # # # #<\/p>\n

AP: This is the story of people who need to get away from something. \u00a0 There is this line in a Rise Against song, “destination anywhere, but here,” that might have gone through my head when this was written, but I don’t really remember. \u00a0<\/p>\n

\"ap.jpg\"<\/div>\n

ABOUT THE AUTHOR
\n<\/strong>Amanda rhymes with panda, she finds it difficult to write about herself and enjoys stories that begin with a \u2018once upon a…’ She has lived everywhere from California to Maine and currently resides in Guam where she is attending college to get the wonderfully useful English degree. Until that graduation thing, there is no life plan– maybe some midnight pancakes, maybe some knitting, maybe some car crashes. \u00a0
\n \u00a0<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

\"ap.jpg\"On road trips, as kids, my brother and I would sit patiently in the car, coloring books closed, and zip lock baggies of animal crackers shut. Once the car turned onto the highway and merged into traffic, we went wild trying to fight boredom. Three years old, not even knowing what the highway was, I waited for my brother’s cue that we were there and it was good. Now on the highway, I breathed a sigh of relief. This is the no Uie zone, the point of no return. The heat kicked in and made my frigid nose prickle. The bipolar radio calmed down on a power ballad. The snow, though still raging, appeared serine. Except for a dark figure up ahead, the road stretched empty.<\/p>\n

\nBy Amanda Pampuro.<\/b><\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":119,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"closed","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"ngg_post_thumbnail":0,"footnotes":""},"categories":[5],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-2249","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-fiction"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.3ammagazine.com\/3am\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/2249","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.3ammagazine.com\/3am\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.3ammagazine.com\/3am\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.3ammagazine.com\/3am\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/119"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.3ammagazine.com\/3am\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=2249"}],"version-history":[{"count":0,"href":"https:\/\/www.3ammagazine.com\/3am\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/2249\/revisions"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.3ammagazine.com\/3am\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=2249"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.3ammagazine.com\/3am\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=2249"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.3ammagazine.com\/3am\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=2249"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}