Payment Rendered

"Son of a--" a rather grizzled looking man with silver hair exclaimed as he feverishly worked the steering wheel and throttle. He gritted his teeth and cursed again under his breath as his eyes shot from the mirror on the drivers side door to the rearview, a quick cursory glance at the gauges then back to the road. He downshifted hard and expertly worked the steering wheel and throttle as he made the big truck dance around a gooey dirt road corner. Mud splashes as the big tires empty a puddle from the rain earlier in the day.

"Not today you mother fuggers," he said in a low breath as he eyed two trucks in his side view mirror losing traction on the curve he just expertly negotiated. He feathered the accelerator and upshifted as the big beast growled it's approval at being pushed hard. A Hula girl positioned on the dash dubbed Lilo shook uncontrollably as she was forced to earn her money today. "Hang in there girl," he said to her as he released the accelerator and let the engine do the braking before the next turn.

He downshifted, released the clutch and turned the wheel again feathering the throttle as the big truck glided around another muddy corner. Once straight again the war cry of the big motor echoed through the trees as he accelerated and upshifted again, kicking a stream of loose dirt and mud from all four corners of the truck. Checking his mirrors he didn't see any threats behind him before he took the next turn. "Doing good baby, doing good," he said to the truck.

The bench seat was torn and faded. The floor was mostly bare metal because the carpet that was in it years ago had been worn thru. The dash was cracked in several places and there was silver duct tape on the rear window passenger side keeping a crack from growing. Outside it was dented and had surface rust everywhere. The big fenders had seen better days as had the bumpers. The rims were rusty and mismatched but the tires were good and the motor was apparently running like 'a cheetah on cocaine' as he liked to describe it.

He upshifted on a long straightaway and as his custom he checked his mirrors again. A white blob appears far behind him and he does a double take. "Where the hell did you come from?" he asks aloud. He decides to run the speed up a bit higher than normal as he heads into a wide, sweeping turn to the right. Just before entering the curve he releases the accelerator, begins working the wheel and rolls back into the throttle, finding a sweet spot and feathering it all the way thru. He had never negotiated that curve without downshifting before and he was impressed with himself as he hammered down coming out of the curve.

Just before he has to cut speed hard before a sharp left hand turn he checks his mirrors again. The white blob is bigger now. "I see you, fugger," he mutters as he slides around the turn before rolling back into the throttle. He really pushes the old truck harder now. Harder in the turns, coming out of the turns and on the straightaways. The truck doesn't complain much but he is keeping an eye on the temperature that has climbed just a bit, even in the chilly mountain air. He pats the dash with his right hand between shifts and whispers "Good girl, good girl."

Lilo looks to be on fast forward as this last leg of the race is mostly curvy switchbacks, hill climbs and drop offs. The big truck's suspension squeaks its disapproval of life in general but the big, coiled shocks soak up the violence of the course decent enough. He can't help but grin at how much he loves his old truck. The grin fades quickly as a white car on big tires appears in his mirrors. "How in THE HELL-" he exclaims as he maneuvers thru the course. "No way you got up here without taking a fire break you sonuva-" he yells at the mirror but stops because he missed a braking point to minimize the dip he should've slowed down for but didn't. The big truck groans it's displeasure as the suspension compresses to it's maximum then rebounds with force launching all four tires in the air on the upside of the hill. He downshifts but lost momentum and struggles to get it back.

It was enough for the white car to cut his lead in half. A flurry of four letter words fills the cabin as he curses himself. "I'm sorry girl, I'm sorry that's on me!" He exclaims as he turns his attention back to the road. He crests the hill and usually he launches over the crest and glides down the back side picking up incredible speed. But this time he had to reign the truck in a bit to keep the suspension from hopping since he lost momentum, forcing him into a soft upshift causing him to lose even more ground.

He launches down the slope towards a wash and hopes he has enough speed built up to help launch him up the opposite hill. He winces as he feels the front suspension bottom out but slams the accelerator to the floor nevertheless in hopes to use the momentum and the released built up energy of the suspension to accel him forward. It works as he launches up the hill at an incredible pace. He thinks they may even be going faster than when he negotiates the wash in his normal manner. He glides over the soft crest of the hill and he is surprised at how fast they are moving now. He thinks she's mad too because it never should've come to this.

He sees the finish line just ahead, a big banner hung between two telephone poles. People line both sides of the muddy dirt road that serves as the main road in and out of town. He sees the white car launch over the hill behind him and he downshifts and hammers the accelerator down. "Nuh uh, not happening," he growls. The white car begins to inch closer and closer, closing the gap until he reaches maximum rpm's and upshifts. The white car's hood is even with his trucks passenger window. It inches painfully forward, wanting to overtake him but just can't close the deal. They cross the finish line at incredible speed, faster than any finish in the history of the 'Deluth Dirt Get Down'.

He begins downshifting to burn off speed because his brakes would overheat and glaze over before they were able to stop him. He finally slows enough to turn around and the white car is several car lengths behind him already turning around. He grunts in appreciation of their high end brakes. "Just gimme mah prize moan-eyyy!" he sings as he approaches the finish line.

He jumps from his truck to cheers from the townsfolk and visitors that come to see the annual race. He gives a cursory nod to the crowd as he looks back at the white car with nobody in it and he walks up the steps of the stage set up for the winner's announcement. "Ladies and Gentlemen, the seventh time champion of the Annual Deluth Dirt Get Down..." the mayor begins as he walks up, shakes the mayors hand, smiles at the newspaper photographer until he sees a flash, takes the prize money from his hand and hands it to the priest standing on the mayors other side. He then walks down the steps on the opposite side of the stage and walks briskly towards the diner. "Well, a man of few words obviously. Padre would you-?" The mayor says into the microphone. The priest takes the podium and he can't hear them anymore as he steps inside the diner, inhaling deeply.

He exhales with a deep "Ahhhhh" as he stands inside the door. An attractive and somewhat plump woman with rosy cheeks smiles a toothy smile and walks to him arms out. "Another one down, huh shoog?" She asks in a thick country accent as she hugs his neck tightly. She releases him and he slaps his hands together and rubs them vigorously, his eyes glazing over in anticipation. She nods her head and chuckles as she glides her finger under her lapel seductively, "You ready for your reward, shoog?" She holds his hand and he follows her to the counter, excited. He is giddy with anticipation and she releases his hand as she steps thru the walkway.

He follows her and she playfully slaps at his hands, "Getchyore ass from behind my counter!" He chuckles and takes a seat on a stool rubbing his hands vigorously. She disappears into the kitchen for a moment and everyone in the diner smiles as they wait in anticipation. She emerges from the back and walks towards him holding a large plate with a napkin draped over it. He inhales deeply and smiles as he watches her walk towards him. She almost sets the plate down and he uttered an "Uh uh uhh!"

She smiles and lifts the plate up and pauses as she looks around the diner. "The absolute last piece, until the Spring when the trail thaws, of Titi's famous, homemade, heavenly devilish chocolate cake. Made especially for the Deluth Dirt Get Down but lovingly," she announced, and placed her elbows on the counter holding the plate up in front of him. "and caringly, saved for the winner of the race," she finished as she carefully laid the plate on the counter. She slowly lifted the napkin and revealed the dark brown, glistening confectionary work of art.

The layers of homemade whipped icing were perfectly thick and spaced evenly. The chocolate glistened with a perfect ratio of moistness and spongy awesomeness. The scent was like the perfume of a Greek goddess. That loved baking. He stared at the chocolate marvel in front of him and exhaled audibly. Titi had her chin propped up on her wrist as she gazed at him lovingly. "I wish I had the same effect on men my cake has on you, shoog," she said standing upright.

He lifted what looked like a brand new fork, shiny and so amazingly clean. It was incredibly well balanced and felt good in his hand. He slowly rotated the amazingly white plate with decorative blue ivy design that followed the rim, so he could make the perfect cut off of the pointed wedge. The weight of the fork carried the prongs down in a pure vertical trajectory, whispering a slight clink as it made contact with the china. He could hear the sponginess whisper its delight as he carefully manipulated the wedge onto the fork and raised it to his face. It glistened as if the light of a thousand angels were shining down upon it. It was beautiful. He slowly deposited it ever so gently on his tongue and removed the fork.

He grunted heavily as he closed his eyes and enjoyed the chocolate ecstasy that danced on his tongue. He chewed ever so slowly, savoring every crumb, every nuance of the delicate frostings ripple. It melted in his mouth and danced down his throat like a spongy Russian ballerina. He savored every second of the experience and finally opened his eyes. The diner was silent as they awaited his annually traditional response. "Oh yeah," he whispered and smiled and the diner clapped in celebration.