1. Friendly Neighbor


    Date: 10/10/2014, Categories: Wife Lovers, Author: BradCarpenter, Rating: 10, Source: LushStories

    It was February 1976. Cindy and I were charging down I-75 escaping an Indianapolis winter for a week of warmth and distraction in Orlando. Two years earlier the government had chopped the speed limit from 70 MPH down to 55, the dreaded double nickel. We were working our Fuzzbuster and CB radio to avoid Smokey and shave as much time as we could off the trip. I was one of the otherwise law abiding citizens who were rebelling against the stupidity of that ridiculous speed limit. There were so many of us, that auto drivers outnumbered truckers on the trucker channel. "Hey, ten-four good buddy, we got the front door for a while. Enjoy that rockin’ chair. Rainmaker out, southbound, and down." I hung the CB microphone back on the dash of my five year old Dodge Demon, when the cheap speaker on the forty-channel Cobra crackled back at me. "Breaker for the Rainmaker, Friendly Neighbor here." "Go ahead, Friendly Neighbor." "Where you headed?" "We’re out of Circle City this morning, trying to get to Mickey town tomorrow. How about you?" "We left the Twin Cities yesterday for a couple-a-days in Miami, then down to the Keys." A great thing about the CB culture was that there always was someone to talk to, even if keying the mike knocked fifty points off your IQ. Friendly Neighbor and I were running at about the same speed and had spent several hours in our own mini convoy taking turns running the riskier front door (the lead position) and the rockin’ chair (tucked safely in behind). From ...
    time to time someone would hook up with us for a while and with a third car, someone could ride the back porch, or last position in the convoy, watching for a Smokey (most state’s troupers wore the same kind of hat as Smokey the Bear) sneaking up from behind. We talked mile after mile about this and that and everything and nothing. About his farm south of Minneapolis, about me studying engineering in night school, about neither of us having kids yet, destinations in Florida, about the wives’ jobs, CB tech-talk, and of course sports. Here was a guy who I had never seen and had talked to for a few hours and I felt like I had known him for years. Back in open country after shooting through Atlanta, Friendly Neighbor asked, "Rainmaker, the XYL is talking about food. How far are you planning to go tonight?" In radio talk, any single woman regardless of age was a Young Lady (YL) and became an XYL when she married. "We were planning to find a motel around Macon, but we’ve been making such good time that I think we’ll try for Valdosta. How about you?" "Ten-four on that, Rainmaker. We need some go juice and a bio break and we can make Valdosta." "Roger on the ten-one-hundred. Let’s do a full pit stop and then roll south." I was using a Shell credit card and Friendly Neighbor fueled his burgundy GTO across the street at the Texaco, so our contact was limited to just a wave before we were rolling south again. I did not get a good look at his wife other than to see that she was blond, but ...
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