Talking Sports: Shady circumstances

As I walked under the highway overpass I first noticed him. Scruffy looking with an unclean beard, unkempt appearance and tatoos all over his body. But that’s not why I came to dislike him so much.

We’re in between sports seasons now. Winter season is over and spring sports are just getting started. Maybe this space should be occupied by a “best of” or some kind of a rerun at these times of the year. Instead, I’ll just take a departure from sports for the day and recall that con man and a few other characters I met while hitchiking across the country once upon a time.

It was somewhere in Oklahoma when I encountered the con. I had been walking to a spot past the exit ramp onto I-40 where I thought it would be a good place to start sticking out my thumb.

To each his own, mind you. Whatever makes a person happy and doesn’t break the law or harm others is fine with me. But, when I say he had tatoos all over his body, I mean everywhere. At least as best as I could tell. Every parcel of skin visible outside the dirty shorts and cutoff shirt sleeves was covered in ink. A mole just behind his left ear was used as the center piece for a butterfly.

I’d been at it for a week or so. No particular hurry. I started the journey in Boston, where I crawled through a hole in the fence behind the School of Public Communication Building at Boston University. A little hop down from there and I was on the Massachusetts Turnpike with duffel and sleeping bag.

“Hello,” he said, or some such greeting.

He was all smiles and had a very positive way about him so I enjoyed his company at first. In fact, he was rather pleasant even after I decided I didn’t like him - which wasn’t long in coming. After sharing whatever pleasantries we could I revealed to him that I was hoping to get to Amarillo by sunset.

“You mean ‘Ama-rilla.’ That’s how they say it around here,’” he explained.

He actually had a very charming way about him. He was funny and friendly but somewhow I couldn’t help being wary of him. What the hell is he doing around here anyway? What’s with the “I haven’t showered in a week,” look all about? Why does someone that looks like that seem so happy? Soon enough he filled me in.

HIs “old lady” was at the truck stop just up the off ramp from where we stood. He was waiting for her return and she should be by in another 20 minutes or so. It’s hard to tell how long it woud take he said. She had their two kids with them. One was five years old and the other an infant. Both boys.

“If you want to hang here we’ll be happy to give you a ride to Ama-rilla,” he offered.

“Sure,” I said.

I’ve got to see this picture all the way through the 21-year-old me thought. Curiosity may end up killing more than the cat.

He went on to explain his old lady’s mission. She was up at the truck stop crying and carrying on about how her husband had left her and the two children out in the middle of nowhere with nothing. She’s almost out of gas, has no food, no money and hundreds of miles from her nearest relative. Even when she gets home her family has nothing.

I can’t remember how she explained that he left her with the car. Not that it was much of a car.

“Oh please, please help me,” I was told she would be wailing.

And all the while he was telling his story, his eyes lit up and he was beaming like a proud peacock. He seemed to be wondering why everybody didn’t live the way he did.

“She’s a damn good little actress,” he assured me with a huge smile.

He also assured me she would be back with food, gas and maybe even some money any minute now. This is a ruse they’ve run a at least a hundred times - or so it sounded. Seems like it had quite a track record for success too.

Sure enough here she came. In a beat up old wood-panelled station wagon she comes rambling down the on ramp to the main highway and pulls over. He takes over the wheel and his woman slides across the bench seat. I hop in the back where the five-year-old sits. Five going on 30 that is. The infant’s up front.

She looked like a female version of him except there weren’t quite as many tats. There was still some open canvass left on her.

After I’m given a quick introduction to those over three-months-old the con woman debriefs her man. She was roaring with laughter as she explained how stupid they were at the truck stop and how they’d handed over a full tank of gas, 50 bucks and two bags of groceries. She’d taken them in - as the cliche goes - hook, line and sinker. She couldn’t have been more proud of herself and less respectiful of her gullable benefactors.

But at the truck stop they didn’t have the proper food for an infant. Instead she shortly began to feed the infant powdered lemonade and potato chips.

While the parents continued to be pleasant - in manner though not in deed - and drove me the 400 or so miles to Amarillo, the kid was creepy. He gave me the once over as soon as I jumped in the car. I think he figured from the start I didn’t have a bit of use for him or his family beyond a ride and a satisfied curiosity. God only knows what prison cell or political office he occupies now.

Well, there’s more, but that’s about the size of it. Fortunately, my parents lessons of working hard and being honest in dealings with others weren’t affected that day. Maybe that’s why I enjoyed the ride from a van full of Baptist preachers from Tennessee a little more.