“I know that now, thanks,” I said, pushing the brake before putting the truck in reverse.
“You might wanna put it back in park,” Roscoe said. “You forgot to adjust yer mirrors first.”
“Oh, you’ll have to excuse me. I don’t know what the hell I’m doing and you are stressing me out more!”
Roscoe shuffled uncomfortably in his seat.
“Please, go to the bathroom. I can’t deal with this and drive at the same time.”
“I told ya. You gotta find me a suitable tree outside of town.”
“Hopefully, I find one with a thick enough branch to hang you from.”
“You might wanna hurry but stay calm.”
“You are so lucky I’m not a werewolf.” My hands trembled as I adjusted the rearview mirror so I could see behind me. Then I moved the little knob for the side mirrors.
“Make sure you move them so that you can see behind, but you can’t see none of the truck. It’ll help with the blind spots.”
I did as he said and quickly shifted the truck in reverse, this time able to see behind me.
“Slowly take yer foot off the brake and back out of the yard. Don’t need to hit the gas, just keep yer foot close to the brake.”
The truck slowly moved out of the yard, and I turned the wheel enough that I was able to get it all the way onto the asphalt. I wasn’t paying attention, and my foot hit the gas.
“Whoa!” Roscoe shouted as I slammed on the brake, the force pushing us back against the seats.
The scent of pee caught my nose, and I looked over. “Roscoe.”
“That scared me a little.”
“This is only going to get worse. Please, I’m begging you.”
“I guess you better drive more carefully then.” He gave another sharp grin. “Think of me as a box of unprotected wine glasses. If you slam on the brakes, turn too hard, hit the gas unexpectedly—there’s gonna be a mess.”
“You’ve made your point. Come on, man. Don’t do this to me.”
He shuffled in his seat some more. “I shouldn’t have had all that coffee.”
“Fuck,” I said, putting the car in drive.
“Just tap the gas a bit, no need to floor it. Try to stay in the middle of the road.”
“I hate you so much.”
We made it five miles outside of town, and luckily there were hardly any cars on the road, which made an already harrowing situation a little less so. The longer I drove, the easier the truck was to handle, but Roscoe swayed faster in his seat.
“All right. This is good,” he said, holding his crotch. “That’s a nice tree over there. Go ahead and pull over.”
I did as he said, and before the car could come to a complete stop, he leaped out and ran into the woods. With a steady exhale, I shifted the vehicle into park and turned it off, my legs still shaking from the adrenaline. This was the first time I’d ever driven anything, and I had to admit, it was a little more fun than I thought.
After what seemed like five minutes, Roscoe strode up to the truck and playfully hopped back into the passenger’s seat.
“Muuuch better,” he said, patting me on the back. “Perfect tree. Not bad, kiddo.”
“Don’t ever call me that.” I smiled at him. “And I still hate you.”
“These are the best years of yer life. We don’t stay young forever—well, I mean, I guess we kinda do, but still. Bein’ young means you get to try new shit and fuck up, and then try more shit and fuck that up, too.” He rested his padded hand on my leg. “I kinda wish I could do it again, but I know too much now.”
