Roadside Bodhisattva by Paul Di Filippo Read Free Book Online

ourselves a little ready cash, we signed on. Can’t say we’ll be staying very long—itchy feet, you know—but as long as we are here, we aim to do a good job. Now the first task on the docket is to turn this jungle around us into something resembling a lawn. For that, we need some gas.”
    Sid held up the gas can at eye level. Angie contemplated the container like he had never seen such a thing, or more like it held scorpions. Man, was this guy suspicious! But in the end, after chewing over Sid’s speech, he took the can and turned to the pump without saying anything one way or another about us now being part of the Deer Park scene.
    As Angie filled the can I waited nervously, spooked that something might still set the burly guy off. But Sid showed no such concern. Humming some hokey old tune, he moved casually off to inspect the small station, with its single bay and tiny office. Alongside the building a car stood, covered with a tarp. Sid lifted a corner of the blue plastic and let out a sharp whistle.
    “Angie pal, is this a ’fifty-nine T-bird?”
    Angie screwed the cap back onto the can before he replied. “That’s what it is all right. It’s mine. I’m restoring it in my spare time.”
    Sid returned to the pump. “Sweet, sweet car. First one I ever owned, back in ‘sixty-five. Well, hell, man, you need some help with this honey, you just call on me. I doubt I got half your chops with cars, but I can weld a little. And maybe I can even show you a trick or two Big Daddy Roth taught me about saving old vinyl.”
    Angie got an interested look on his face at the mention of this last name, which I didn’t reconize. But he still didn’t smile. “Are you shitting me? You knew Roth?”
    “Grew up right next door to him, didn’t I? Worked with him every summer from the time I was thirteen till eighteen.”
    Angie nodded solemnly. “Well, maybe I could use your help at some point.” But then his face went back to being grim. “Where are you two staying?”
    I figured Angie was worried Ann was putting us up in her own apartment. But Sid managed to sidestep that issue.
    “Miz Danielson was kind enough to offer us the old trailer. It’s not the Waldorf, but we’re grateful, right, Kid? Just look for us there with the racoons and skunks. Say, Angie, what are you doing about lunch?”
    “I usually close the garage at two for half an hour and they send me something over from the diner.”
    “Great! I’ll try to finish the mowing by then and we can chow down together and talk Detroit iron. I’ll carry our grub over.”
    Angie paused to consider this offer for a while, before he said, “Okay.”
    “C’mon, Kid, let’s get a move on.”
    I picked up the container of gas and we headed back. Out on Route 1 cars and trucks zipped past us like all the drivers had the most important appointment in the world to keep. Someone threw an empty paper cup from his car, and I noticed how much roadside trash had drifted onto Ann’s property. A lone shoe, a burger carton, a weathered porn magazine, a bucket smeared with dried red paint. Picking up that crap, now there was a chore that needed doing.
    I was feeling kinda unsettled after our meeting with Angie, and I knew it had something to do with Sid, but I couldn’t say why or what, so I trudged on in silence. There was stray sheet of junk metal in one lane of the highway, and the cars in that lane kept running over it with a loud whump. The sound was annoying, and I started to get irrationally angry about it, until I finally realized what had pissed me off about Sid’s actions.
    Once we had walked far enough away that Angie couldn’t hear us, I said to Sid, “You’re a liar and a hypocrite.”
    Surprisingly, Sid did not get pissed off, but instead smiled broadly and said, “How’s that, Kid?”
    “First off you insult a guy by using a jerky nickname behind his back. Then to his face you’re all respectful and feeding him ‘I’m your best friend’ stuff. Then