Goat Man

Take the Long Way Home

The BMW picked up speed as Tye merged onto the Expressway. An angry 18-wheeler blew past him with a long blast from his air horn. The sudden sound was enough to make Tye stiffen and grimace in pain. White splotches of light appeared before his eyes, a sure sign that his searing headache was only going to get worse.

“Prick,” said Tye, barely audible. He wanted to blow his own feeble horn and scream at the top of his lungs, but experience had taught him that this only fueled a stress-driven headache. To make matters worse, the sun had dropped right in his range of sight.

He slowed the car and pulled onto the brim of the road. Rolling to a stop and placing the gearshift to park, he reached into the glove box and retrieved two prescription bottles. Big smooth hands, tanned from a recent trip to Jamaica, carefully opened one bottle and removed a single pill. After washing it down with a bottle of lukewarm water, he repeated this action with the second bottle. Carefully replacing the two bottles back to their special spot, Tye sat silent, wondering if this ritual would ever change.

He closed his eyes and waited for the drugs to kick in. Thank God it hadn’t been rush hour or he would have been forced to wait for his exit some 18 miles away before stopping. As the steady traffic cruised by, Tye tried to guide his mind to nothingness, as he had been taught by his newest self-help tape. He wondered if anyone had ever reached that moment of peace, as promised by the sensuous hypnotic voice; that day when a surreal contentment would overflow into his screaming mind. Suddenly, a vision of perky cheerleaders started to materialize.

“Give me an E for extra, an N for numb, and a D for drugs,” they chanted with their broad smiles and perfect white teeth.

Tye chuckled at the surprising sight. Screw the tapes. Dr. Volay had all the answers Tye needed, wrapped up neatly in tiny white pills. He could always count on that pleasing moment when the mind-altering drugs took effect and he was presented with just the right thought to wash away the gloom. It was amazing what the mind could conjure up when called upon for help. Only once had Tye experienced a bad scene and that was due to having pneumonia. As his headache subsided, Tye turned on the radio to an oldies, but goodies, station and pulled onto the highway.

Super Tramp pounded a classic from the days when dreams were an ugly trick to get you to study. A future of fast cars, faster women and loads of money had made the journey seem worthwhile. In reality, it was all a miserable sham. There never seemed to be enough money to reach that ultimate goal of tranquility that his dreams had portrayed. You work, you buy, you die. When did that great feeling of gratitude begin to kick in?

Tye could still remember his best friend, Dave, as they sat in the parking lot of Miller’s Body Shop, after it was closed up tight for the day. It was a favorite hang-out for the high school kids and offered a perfect view of cars, packed with other kids, cruising the small town of Peabody.

“Give me another 25 years and I will be a millionaire,” Dave would say, grinning, while chugging a beer.

Tye always smiled back, sucking in the happiness that surrounded his buddy, even though he knew that Dave had little chance of reaching his goal. If he didn’t lay off the booze, his brain would be mush in half that time. Not far off the mark, it only took 10 years for Dave to end up dead in a wrecked hot rod, the car reeking of whiskey. The news had stung, but it also gave Tye the incentive to stay away from the deadly brew. Alcohol had never been Tye’s drug of choice and although he had missed out on a few college parties, he had never been able to acquire a taste for the stuff. A blessing, indeed.

The silver BMW 4 Series 428i Convertible glided down the highway, the engine purring like a kitten. Although it was less than a year old, Tye had become bored with its sleek lines and good performance. Gary, a co-worker, had just purchased a Toyota Lexus IS C that was drawing much more attention. Despite the recalls and negative attention of the Japanese-based corporation, Toyota always seemed to come out a winner. Seldom did Toyota’s ups and downs ever persuade anyone to jump ship on their market shares. Seemingly a good investment, plus the positive talk around the shop, was enough for Tye to make a mental note to visit a Toyota dealer this weekend.

It was the thought of buying a new car, or vacationing in Ochoa Rios, that made Tye’s job bearable. Working for a brokerage firm had not been his original goal in life, but after trying to make it on the salary of a teacher, trading stock seemed the only way to go. Yes, he had loved teaching middle-school students, but living in a 1,000 square-foot apartment had not been part of his plan in life. If you couldn’t move up the ladder and reap in the dough, what was the point? As they say, money makes the world go round. In another 10 years, Tye saw himself retiring and living on easy street.

With the lights of the windy city barely visible in his rear view mirror, Tye recognized his exit and slowed for the ramp. It was a long way home, about 70 miles from downtown Chicago, but the change in atmosphere made the extra time well worth it. Occasionally, he would hit the back roads, making the trip even longer, but far more refreshing. Even though the sun was tucked neatly out of sight until morning, Tye thought of the peaceful feeling that swept over him while traveling the dusty back roads. Lined with pastures, fields, and the sweet smell of new spring growth, something told him that this was the route to take tonight.