The Open Road – Letter 5

Mr. Miller,

SEND HELP NOW!

After our night in Wichita, Kansas, I briefly thought that Dan was not that bad a guy. Watching Roadgames with him really put me in a good mood. I even called him “Danny” once. I figured if he was going to nag me about it the whole trip (and since his father could fire the hell out of me in a heartbeat) I’d give it a whirl. I cringed, but it went ok. And he smiled like a pig in shit.

Well, my mood changed when I woke up the next morning in the passenger seat of my truck. I had a throbbing headache, and both of my arms were handcuffed down by my side. Dan was nowhere to be found.

I was squirming and yelling for help in that truck for about two hours. All to no avail. Finally Dan arrived back with a portable DVD player and an entire bag full of movies. After screaming my head off at him for quite a while, I finally let him speak. He said that he walked a few miles to the nearest electronics store and bought all this crap for us to watch as we went on our “detour.”

After fantasizing aloud about murdering him, I sat back and accepted my fate for the time being. Dan said his plan was to take us to Hollywood so that we can star in our own buddy comedy about two truckers “from two different worlds who find it tough to see eye-to-eye” trucking across the country and becoming best friends. He said that he had drugged me in the middle of the night (hence the headache) and then dragged me to the truck. He said this would give our buddy comedy “a quirky moment.”

It was then that I reminded him

A. he’s not a trucker
B. I’m not his friend
C. This is now considered a hostage situation
D. Buddy comedies suck about 99% of the time

But it’s no use. He laughs at me like I’m joking around with him all the time and it just makes me want to beat him senseless all the more.

Since I never let him drive Barbara before, he continually stalled the truck and made her gears screech. Poor, poor Barbara. You’ll be back in my hands yet!

He gave me pen and paper for me to write to you, but I think he knows of my open-desires to punch him in the face because he did not remove my handcuffs. I am going to try hard to get my hands free and take over the truck once again. These 500 boxes of microwavable popcorn aren’t going to deliver themselves! And I’m determined to get us back on track and onward to Seattle.

I don’t know why I wrote “us,” since if I do get out of these cuffs I’m throwing him the hell out of Barbara and leaving him to fend for himself on the side of the road.

I sure as hell better think of a plan soon. Another 48 Hours is about to end and I don’t think I can sit through Twins. SEND HELP NOW!

– Eddie

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