“Hey, you Al? I’m Jimmy,” Before
Al could get up from the bench the young man was right in front of him. “I’m
Jimmy, from Salmon Stream Crossing; you gotta be Al, right, nobody else around
here.” Al replied, “Yea, I’m Al and I bet your first name must be Jimmy.” Al
held his hand out and his first introduction to Salmon Stream Crossing grabbed
his extended hand and shook it with gusto.
A torrent of
words spilled out of Jimmy’s mouth, “Well I’ll be, face to face with a real-life
hero and newspaper reporter. The folks up home are really looking forward to
meeting you.” Al stood there trying to take in this first impression. Jimmy seemed
to know only one speed, fast and somewhat reckless. In an instant he had
grabbed Al’s bag and tossed it on the first bench seat. In one motion he had
the front passenger door open and was swinging his arm, like he was trying to
sweep Al into the van.
Al got
in the front seat and fastened his seat belt. Jimmy looked at Al and said, “You
big city fellers wear them seat belts. I don’t ever wear em, I want to be able
to jump out if I have to.” Bouncing his rear on the driver’s seat, with one
fluid move of his right arm he shifted the van into drive and hit the gas.
“Man, I can’t believe it! You are really coming to the Crossing. Are you going
to live in town? Where ya gonna stay? I know a place, rents cheap. O’man I
still can’t believe it. Ray has been talking about you.”
Al’s head was shaking as Jimmy finished. Turning
just a bit in his seat, he looked at Jimmy, already liking the kid, “Jimmy,” he
said, “Do you always talk as fast as you drive? Do you have only one speed,
that is, pedal down and hang on?” Jimmy
snapped his head around so fast it startled Al. “Awe man, I’m sorry, I did it
again, Ray warned me, that I better get control of myself before I met you,
forgive me man, I didn’t mean no harm.”
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