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NOW OPEN! q-q WEEKDAYS 6 SATURDAY i2 -6suNDAY wE BUY AND SELL DA I Ly/ OPENING ON OP ABOUT JAN. 16 AUSTIN PRICE RECORDS e llAGAZOMS AT 15111 LAVACA4714-5204 DURING this interesting stalemate, a tactical plan of escape is hatched out of my keenness for stock-car racing and excess of adrenalin. These necks just might be mad enough to take us out in the spectacular manner and let some survivor try to prove it later in court. But, I figure, they probably don’t want to complicate things by mangling some other motorists in the process. Too many witnesses, victims, and risks to themselves. This would explain why they occasionally execute a nicely coordinated shift into the left-hand lane, where we are, and let a bunch of cars zip by on the right. So, I explain to Gerry, what we gotta do is this: next time the cars are passing and we see more than a 10-foot gap, you plug this here little BMW right into that there hole and pretend like you’re A.J. Foyt. You just whip out there with your foot through the floor, climb right up somebody’s tailpipe, and hang in there till we get past old Drive Friendly. I don’t think he’s willing to take more than one car out of action, and if we get by we make a run for it. Now Gerry’s not what you’d call the destruction-derby type, but he allowed as how he’d rather do a little fancy driving than tangle with two antagonized redneck truck drivers. I probably should also say that he’s not the A. J. Foyt type, either. Crouched over that wheel, with his eyes fairly wide, he looked more like Clyde Barrow fixing to run his first country roadblock. I got into my tail-gunner position, trying to spot an opening in the passing traffic. Meanwhile, Gerry’s charming wife, in her lilting south of England accent, is saying, “My, I must say that I do find this all rather frightening. Does this happen often in Texas? I really don’t think we should stop and talk to those men in the trucks. It would seem to me that this is rather dangerous. I do’ wish there were a police officer here.” Chris, of course, did not quite understand. During the 15 or 20 minutes our one-sided cat-and-mouse game had been going on neither Gerry nor I had raised our voices or displayed fear \(truckers appreciate what was going on inside the minds of two strong, stoic, grim-faced men who had no need to speak as they walked shoulder-to-shoulder down the empty main street of Tombstone toward the OK Corral, about to pee in their pants. The maneuver worked, and our apologies to the family in the cream-colored station wagon who thought they were routinely passing two slow-moving semis and were surprised when a little sports sedan appeared out of nowhere, sniffing their back bumper. Thanks to those good people, who quickly speeded up, and the motorist behind us, who hit his brakes, we extricated ourselves from between a rock and hard place. Then we took off. And so did the trucks, which apparently exited at the first opportunity and went into hiding. I tried to spot them out the back window all the way to the Texas Department of Public Safety headquarters on the outskirts of Houston, but they were scarce as cops. Since we were now out of danger and already composing letters to the transport company, the I.C.C., and the F.C.C. \(which already has received a thousand complaints organizations that either regulate or lobby for the trucking industry, we didn’t expect too much from the Texas highway patrol. Which was good, because the D.P.S. seems to close on weekends. Once we found a door that anyone would answer we did talk to a very courteous officer in mufti who, understandably, would rather catch a criminal in the act than concern himself about reckless driving complaints and things that might have happened. He did, however, appreciate the wonders of two-way radio. As we left he said, “Yessir, those boys are really eating us up with CB. They all got ’em now, by the thousands. Wisht I’d bought stock in some of those radio _companies a few years back.” As we left the state police headquarters I thought of the words uttered by young Winston Churchill many years ago: “The most exhilarating thing in life is to be shot at, without result.” The next day Chris Goldstein broke out in a rash. The only response to any of our letters was from the I.C.C., which explained it had no jurisdiction and was forwarding our complaint to the D.O.T. January 17, 19 75 15 The Outpost Austin’:s Best Barbecue 11:30-7:30 Daily, Except Sunday David and Marion Moss 345-9045, Highway 183 North Bob and Sara Roebuck Anchor National Financial Services 1524 E. Anderson Lane, Austin bonds stocks insurance mutual funds optional retirement program ak . et. *Oe**.t*In *0***r!****vs** , *.*, “*S.***Okin*,,,A1