Mango Bob (13 page)

It wasn't bad at first, but as soon as we crossed the Mississippi river bridge, traffic started building and I-20 deteriorated into a roller coaster ride. Long slow ripples in the road causing cars and trucks to bounce up and down violently.

The locals were used to it. They still drove at seventy miles per hour. But not me. I had to slow down to fifty to keep the coach under control.

The rolling roads roads woke Bob, and he joined me up front. He took the passenger seat and spoke about his concerns. Then he settled down for a nap.

Half way through Jackson, the GPS told me my exit onto forty nine south was approaching. I followed the instructions and weaved my way through new construction onto forty nine.

It was a better road, newer pavement. But no longer a highway. More like a main street through the south side of Jackson. A lot of stop and go traffic. But manageable.

Bob must have approved. He continued to nap in the passenger seat. The sun streaming through the window warming his fur covered body.

According to the route Jack had shown me, I'd want to get fuel soon. Richland, Mississippi. Ten miles ahead.

Since leaving this morning, I'd driven three hundred miles and used a little more than half a tank of fuel. A quick calculation showed I was averaging about ten miles a gallon. About half of what my Toyota pickup would have gotten.

I stopped at the U-Save gas station in Richland and filled up. Took 29 gallons, cost $131.17. I paid with my credit card.

Before I got back into the coach, I checked the passenger window for Bob. He was asleep in the seat.

I snuck around to the driver's door and hopped in. Bob didn't even try to get out.

I checked on Maybelle. She was asleep in the bed on the back.

Back on the road again. Down highway 49 through Hattiesburg, and then 98 to Mobile.

These stretches of road were mostly four lane blacktop. Not interstate. Just rolling country roads, bordered by farms and forests.

The posted speed limit was sixty five. Most everyone else was doing seventy or more. I stuck with my plan. Sixty five and safe.

I didn't make any friends doing this. Cars pulled up going too fast behind me, slowed down, and then whipped around at the first chance they got.

Many drivers signaled their displeasure. But I wasn't going to risk wrecking the Love Bus by going too fast on these roads just to keep them happy.

One car seemed to follow closely for several miles, then pulled up beside me and rolled down the window.

As I looked over, the passenger was pointing frantically toward the back end of the Love Bus.

I rolled my window down and heard the passenger shout, “Flat tire! Flat Tire!”

30

The steering didn't feel like I had a flat, but with six tires, who knew what a flat might feel like. So I slowed down, and pulled over into the nearest spot I could find, a vacant gas station.

The car that had alerted me to the problem also pulled over, parking in front of me.

I removed the keys from the ignition, got out and stretched. The driver and passenger of the other car got out and walked toward me. I figured they were going to help.

But I was wrong. The taller of the two men pulled a gun and said, “We're taking the motorhome. You're not coming with us.”

“What do you mean you're taking the motorhome?”

“Look mister, we don't want to shoot you. Just give us the keys and you won't get hurt.”

The tall man holding the gun waved me to the passenger side of the coach, putting us out of sight of traffic on the road.

The shorter man spoke, “Slowly reach in your pocket and give me the keys.”

“I don't have the keys. They're in the ignition.”

I was looking for a way to separate the two men. To give me a chance to disarm the one with the gun.

I'm no hero. Didn't want to get shot. But Maybelle was in the back. And so was Bob. I couldn't risk either one of them getting hurt.

“Give me the keys!”

“I don't have them. They're in the ignition. Go look for yourself.”

The shorter man took the gun, told his partner to go look.

I was hoping I'd get my chance. One on one was easier. But not when one had a gun.

When the taller man opened the driver's door to look for the keys, I heard a hum, then a loud crack.

The tall man immediately crumbled to the ground shaking as if he were having a seizure.

The short man looked over to see what was happening, and when he did I short punched him in the kidney, then quick kicked him between the legs.

He dropped the gun and fell to the ground.

I picked up the gun and ran to the driver's side to see what had happened to the tall man.

Maybelle was standing behind the driver seat cackling with laughter, while holding up a police taser gun.

“This thing works a lot better than I thought it would.”

“Maybelle, where'd you get that?”

“Walker, you don't think my family would let me ride with a stranger without me carrying a little protection?

“I've had this all the time. Just in case you turned out to be an axe murder.”

“Now quit wasting time. We need to do something with these two guys and get on our way. My family is waiting in Lucedale.”

Maybelle continued, “I say, use that gun you took from them. Shoot 'em both. The world would be better off.”

“Maybelle, we can't do that. How about I just put them both in the trunk of their car, and we call the police?”

“I vote for shooting them. But you can put them in the trunk if you want.”

I fished the car keys out of the tall man's pockets, opened the trunk of the car, and shoved him in.

The shorter man was still on the ground, groaning and holding his privates.

Maybelle suggested I give him a taste of the taser. Make it easier to get him in the trunk.

I asked the man if he would like to get in the trunk on his own or be tased.

“Don't tase me. I'll get in.”

Maybelle tased him anyway.

After he quit twitching, I put him in the trunk and shut it.

In their car I found a cell phone and used it to call 9-1-1 to report a car jacking on Hiway 49, near Collins Mississippi.

I gave them a description of the carjacker's vehicle along with the license plate number, and said the two assailants could be found in the trunk.

When the operator asked me to identify myself, I ended the call and turned the phone off.

It was time to get back on the road.

31

“Walker you dropped that man with one punch. Not bad.”

“Maybelle, what I did was nothing compared to what you did. How'd you get a police taser and where'd you learn to use it?”

“Walker, remember my son, Earle Tyler? The man you met back in Lake Village?”

“He's a deputy sheriff there. And after I got into a little trouble with my 32 pistol, he took it away and gave me the taser. Showed me how to use it too.”

“When I saw that guy pull a gun on you, I got my taser out and was hoping to get a shot. When the guy opened the door, I was so close, I couldn't miss.

“Did you see how he twitched and wet his pants when I hit him? Funniest thing I've seen in a long time.

“Walker, this has been my best trip ever.”

“Maybelle, I'm glad you were here. I don't think those guys were kidding around. You saved the day.

“Do you think we should call your son Earle, and let him know what happened? Him being a deputy and all?”

“Heavens no! We don't want to let Earle know about this. He worries enough as it is. And if he finds out I tased two people and then locked them in a car trunk, he might put us both in jail.”

“So Walker. We keep this to ourselves.”

“That's fine with me. I don't want to get mixed up with the law in Mississippi.”

We traveled in silence for the next thirty miles, then Maybelle said, “Lucedale is just five miles ahead. Take a right at the next flashing yellow light.”

I followed Maybelle's directions until we reached an older home with a large porch with three kids on a swing.

As I pulled in, all the kids jumped up and started yelling, “Grandma's here!”.

Maybelle turned to me, “Walker, you're invited to come in and have supper if you like. Even camp out here for the night.”

“Maybelle, I appreciate the offer. But I'm on a mission to get to Mobile tonight. So I'm going to keep going.”

She took my hand, “Remember our little secret. Don't call Earle and tell him anything about today. I'll call him in a few minutes and let him know I made it home.”

“And Walker, now that you know where I live, feel free to drop in next time you come through this way. Maybe we'll go out and get a few more bad guys.”

I laughed, then helped Maybelle get her poke and get out the door. We hugged, and I got back in the Love Bus.

Before I drove off, I checked on Bob. He was back in the bed, asleep.

32

The GPS showed that from Maybelle's home in Lucedale to the Bass Pro shop was just 48 miles. Should be an easy drive.

But it wasn't. The closer I got to Mobile, the more traffic I ran into. Lots of stop lights. Lots of impatient drivers who didn't want to be stuck behind a motorhome.

When I finally reached Mobile, I took I-10 east toward the Mobile tunnel and Mobile bay. It was hard to tell whether rush hour was just getting started or just ending. Traffic was heavy, but not crazy. The roads were surprisingly good.

I'd already driven twelve hours. With just two stops - one of which included a little gun play.

The sun was setting and I needed to take a bathroom break. But first, I had to get through the Mobile bay tunnel.

Approaching the tunnel in a motorhome is a real adventure. You go from being on the flat interstate traveling in heavy traffic, then down a steep grade into a tunnel that travels under Mobile bay for a couple of miles.

Warning lights on the sharp curve leading into the tunnel flash if you are approaching at a hazardous speed. Since almost everyone is speeding, the lights flash non stop. Then a flurry of brake lights as cars attempt to slow to enter the tunnel.

Once in the tunnel, traffic speeds back up as it races to the daylight at the other end, where the road rises steeply up from the ocean floor, onto the Mobile bay causeway.

As I drive up out of the tunnel, I'm awed. Water stretches out on both sides of me. The smell of salty sea air is strong. The road is surrounded by ship yards, an aircraft carrier, even a submarine.

But there's no time to look around. I'm driving a six ton rig across a narrow strip of concrete surrounded on both sides by water. A wrong move by me or any of the thousands of other vehicles crossing the causeway could be disastrous.

So I'm not taking chances. Sixty is the posted limit and that's all I'm doing. Maybe a little less.

According to the route Jack showed me the night before, I take the Spanish Fort exit, the first exit beyond the causeway. Then cross over the interstate to the Bass Pro parking lot.

I see the exit, and the Bass Pro store. It's hard to miss. The store is a one hundred forty thousand square feet log cabin sitting on a hill above the interstate.

I take the exit, turn left. Bass Pro is straight ahead.

33

Pulling into the huge Bass Pro parking lot, I follow the arrows to the RV parking area.

Not many motorhomes here this late in the day, so it's easy to find Jack and Jean's rig. I park next to it.

Turning off the motor, I tell Bob we're in for the evening. I don't know if he hears me or not. I haven't seen him in a while.

As I get up to go back to the bathroom, Bob hops off the bed and starts talking. Telling me I'm his buddy. I rub him around his ears and he purrs.

In the bathroom I take care of business, and then check Bob's food and water. Still good.

According to the Bass Pro sign, there's a restaurant inside. I tell Bob I'm leaving and advise him not to try to sneak out when I get back. He has his plans. I have mine.

As I leave the Love Bus, I notice the lights in Jack and Jean's coach are not on. Either they're already in bed, or in Bass Pro.

Not wanting to disturb them if they are sleeping, I head across the parking lot to the main entrance of Bass Pro.

I walk in and am amazed. Over one hundred and forty thousand square feet of retail shopping space. Everything you can imagine for outdoor fun. Hiking, camping, boating, hunting, fishing. You name it, they have it.

I could spend a few days here and not see it all. But right now, I want food.

I locate the Fish Country restaurant. There's not a line. Good. As I'm looking for the greeter, my phone chimes.

It's Jack. He and Jean are already in the restaurant. They saw me pull in. Want to know if I want to join them for dinner.