Chapter 13

I hate Chapter 13. Chapter 13 always has something terrible happen ... usually to me ... but sometimes it’s to someone I know.

This 13 is no exception: She won. Not handily ... it was a photo finish. But first across the line is first place. Number two is first loser.

Now ... this might seem to be a joyous occasion. Might.

But. Not. This. Time.

The track announcer finished his normal Winner’s Circle chat ... that wasn’t bad. He presented her with a check that was bigger than she was.

She had all her talking points covered. Tires, Pit Crew, tool maker, car builder, the Driving School ... she thanked them all. Never mentioned me ... Why would she mention me ... I showed no interest ... I was just ner boss. No biggie. Thank God.

Then the Local Affiliate (telly) got her aside and did their own interview ... which went sorta like this:

TV: First female win in years. How does it feel?

Abbie: I knew it was coming ... I just had to get to the front and stay there.

TV: Yes ... you’ve had some collisions with lapped race cars.

Abbie: Not that I’m accusing any one ... but it seemed strange that it was always the same driver who wrecked me.

TV: Ah yes, Not to name names but that particular driver has always been very vocal about women drivers and their inappropriateness out of the kitchen.

Abbie had been scanning the spectators ... I watched her eyes pass over me and travel on ... and snap back.

UhOh ... eye contact. Fuck!

Abby stopped talking. She handed her helmet to the TV analyst, and took off for the gap in the fence at the flag stand. The flagman lifted her up and started shaking his finger at her. She bulled right by him and started jumping rows.

Fuck!

Fuckity Fuck!

Fuckity fuck fuck!

She was lit up like ... like ... she had just found ... THE ONE...

She leaped on my lap ... flung her arms around my neck and kissed me.

“Since the invention of the kiss there have been five kisses that were rated the most passionate, the most pure. This one left them all behind. The End.” The Princess Bride (1987) – Grandpa (Peter Falk)”

That kind of kiss. Moves mountains, drains lakes. Causes tents. The tsunami of kisses.

The NATIONAL NEWS that night ran the footage from the Local Affiliate ... whose cameraman had focused in on the entire scene ... closeup ... telephoto ... the wretch!

The Today show discussed the kisser and the recipient as if it were Parliamentary elections.

The kiss made CNN.

The question on everybody’s lips? Who is he?

Disaster!

My comfortable life was going belly up.

No more beer.

No more visits to the local.

No more prospecting.

No more secret lusting for a diminutive witch.

No more...

Just like the movie ... The End.

I hate Chapter 13s’.

But not the end of the story.