Driving lessons

Dr. Benjamin drives a rust-colored 1961 Chevy step-side pickup. His elbows poke out when he steers the wheel.
He likes the Las Vegas desert, it is the ideal city where men become gods, gods become
rich; and everyone loves a winner.
After a time he speaks: "I need to check out an old television."
Dr. Benjamin takes a left on the old highway, there are sand berms, buried tires, debris from a former war,
it is a dumping ground.
His Chevy step-side has a bench seat that smells like
wd40. He turns off the truck and turns to the rider. "Why don't you show me something beautiful?"
The student squirms in all shyness, and moves far away from the driver. The old man's eyes gleam, a
reincarnation of possibility for young cotton and the smell of shampooed hair.
The windows are open for the passing dust swirls.
Dr. Benjamin doesnt like the radio. He stretches his right arm across the bench seat, shuts the music off, props himself up,
then falls over everything as he tries to undo a zipper.
There is no radio and so Dr Benjamin will sing the words in his head,
"Holy Jesus, why do you smell so sweetly?"
The real-life sounds are only grunts, too low to describe the old man's passion. He never takes off his pants, but the shirt comes untucked in the slow thrusting.
Dr. Benjamin's potbelly is cold. Hes in a hurry, pushing so fast between thighs that he forgets to command directions.
The voice of the teacher hisses sharply between gritted teeth he shakes the sweat halo all over the bench before the student finally pushes away.
As an eight-year-old boy, I told Dr. Benjamin that I had to go pee very badly. I told him that I couldn't pee in the truck because,
"Its not very ster-ile. He would have to continue his lessons later.
There was relief in getting out of that truck, even though I had nowhere to run, no one to yell for. The runaway was stopped. Only five miles outside of the city limits of Vegas and there's not a damn thing to hold you except a cactus. After staring at the desert till the sun made three yawns, I returned to the philosopher king and his Chevy.
"Guess Im done." I kicked a blue pebble.
Back in the truck, Dr. Benjamin reminded me that I wanted to hitch with him all the way to california and find my father. It was important for me to do this, He said, "The heart has its yearnings."
An hour before I tried to lean west, now I couldn't. The longing was over. Dr. Benjamin drove back to town, too proud to say that he wanted to shoot a load over my face. The cabin was quiet until we came to a 7-11.
I pointed in a hurry at the 7-11, saying that the throat was dry. Then I gagged to form a guttural sound. The teacher licked his lips and pulled right over.
After pulling a wedding ring, lint, and several bullets out of his pocket, Dr. Benjamin handed money so I could buy two Slurpees. I filled the cups with blue ice and sugar, trembling. I had just given the clerk a hard earned dollar as the fucker drove away.






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