Sunday

My brother towed cars for seven or eight years. He didn’t tow cars for hire - like if you broke down somewhere, and you wanted your car towed to a shop to be fixed because you wanted to eventually get the car back, nah - or if you owned a business and people parked in no parking zones outside of your business, and you needed somebody to come tow a car away, no - he only towed cars that people had given up on - cars they wanted to junk. He would actually buy the junk car, he’d give you twenty-five bucks, or so, and he’d tow it off of your yard. He’d tow it to the junk yard and sell it for scrap metal.

The person selling the car must have the title to the car. Sometimes people would try to sell other people’s cars to him. Do not try to fool the tow truck driver, and definitely do not try to rob the tow truck driver. He carried a gun. He had fools try to pull all kinds of stuff on him. When he would lie down and reach under a car, to hook up to the axle, he’d see feet running up on him. He popped up with gun drawn and smile glowing and eyes big, “What’s up? Huh? What’s up?”

Sometimes my brother would be on the road going to or coming from, and I’d be out driving around, and we’d see each other. I would park my car and get into his wrecker and roll with him for a while. We’d roll five or six hours getting smokey and listening to the radio. He’d point to the radio and say, “I bet you don’t even know who this is.” Sometimes he’d get a page to go tow a car, and I go with him. We would ride around way into the night, long after the calls for tows stopped coming in. He lived in that wrecker practically. It was cool to visit him.

3 comments:

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