Mater breaks down and needs a tow, but he's too embarrassed to call another tow truck for help. Humor. One-shot.
TOWED TRUCK
A loud pop, followed by a sizzle, should have been the first clue that something was amiss. A whining groan that grew steadily louder and higher-pitched as he drove should have definitely been cause for alarm. But Mater - dear, sweet, trusty, naïve-as-a-newborn-inbred-tractor-calf-in-hillbilly-hell Mater - simply whistled a happy tune and kept on going.
The sun was shining and the birds were singing and the Arizona desert was in full bloom on the loveliest of April days. Normally hostile-looking cacti were now covered with friendly pink blossoms. Wild mustard dotted the desert like drops of sunshine, and blue lupines pointed their spears straight up in rivalry toward the sapphire sky. Mater's engine positively flooded with joy at the sight. He took a deep breath that rattled his air filter, picking up on the potpourri of springtime and distinctive desert scents.
On any other occasion he would have stopped to smell the flowers literally, but today, he was a truck on a mission. Today, he prowled Route 66 in search of a far more elusive flower: the golden poppy. While these grew in abundance along the roadside every spring, Murphy's Law seemed to have recently decreed that the instant you needed something that was plentiful, it would immediately fall into short supply.
So far Mater had only been able to find six or seven poppy plants, the blossoms on most of these appearing small and malnourished. Fillmore had specifically requested at least two dozen plants.
"What fer?" Mater had asked him.
The bus's smile had faded at this question and he'd scuffed a tire in the dust as he looked away. "Oh, you know… hippie stuff." While the tow truck had been appeased by that answer, a certain squad car seemed unconvinced.
"You're not tryin' to harvest opium now, are you son?" demanded Sheriff.
More nervous shuffling. "Uhhh, no…"
"Mm-hm. And I suppose those cannabis plants you just happened to find up by the falls were all woven into welcome mats and not ingested in some way?"
Fillmore dismissed that with an uneasy laugh. "'Course not, Sheriff. What do you take me for? Hemp's got lots of legal uses, ya know. And the poppies - heck, I just want 'em for my yard. Their warm color will offset my lupines perfectly. Plus they'll toootally add ambiance to the town, once they start spreading.
"They're like weeds, ya know. Or wildfire. Or, like, wildfire on weeds. Yeahhh. Before ya know it, the whole town'll be blazin' with Mother Nature's little lovelies. It'll be awesome, man." The bus had a dreamy look on his face as he envisioned his ideal town. Mater had taken this as his cue to depart, for Fillmore quickly zoned out after that.
As the afternoon wore on, the rusty pickup pulled over in the dust beside the road for a much-needed break. It was unseasonably hot, and somewhat humid out. The transplanted poppies in his bed were beginning to wilt. "Dadgum," he breathed, looking around. "It's like someone already done came along an' grabbed up all the flowers!" While he rested, he considered his options.
"Ah jist cain't go back tuh Fillmore empty-bedded. No siree Bob!" he declared out loud. "If'n Ah gotta git out there and comb every last inch of that there desert, then so be it!" Turning away from the road, Mater gazed out across the gentle rise and fall of dunes that led to the foothills of Tailfin Pass. With a determined nod, he started his engine. Or tried to, anyway.
Ch-krr-rrr-rrr. Ch-krr-rrr-rrr-rrr.
"Galldangit!" he growled. "C'mon, me! Git goin'!"
Ch-krr-rrr-rrr-rrr. Ch-krr-rrr-rrr. Ch-krr-rrr-rrr-rrr-rrr-rrr-rrr-rrr-rrr…
No matter how many times he tried, he simply couldn't get his engine to turn over. He did, however, succeed in flooding it, and at that point he was forced to give up. With a huff, Mater turned on his CB radio and tuned it to a nearby frequency.
"Hey, uh - Sheriff? You there? Helloooooooo?"
Faint crackling preceded the squad car's answer. "What the flyin' Ford - Mater? Why ain't you using proper CB protocol?"
"Why ain't you?"
More crackling. "This better be good, boy."
"Aw, it ain't good at all, Sheriff. Ah done broke down an' Ah jist cain't seem tuh get mahself goin' again."
"What's your twenty?"
"Mah whut?"
"Your location!"
"Oh! Uhhh…" Mater looked around. "Well, Ah'm right off the right side of old sixty-six, jist sittin' here in the dirt with mah ignition on the fritz. Ah'm lookin' at a anthill with a buncha red ants comin' out. Ah kin feel 'em crawlin' up into mah -"
"Thank you, Mater," Sheriff cut in. "With those directions I'm sure I'll be able to find you in no time." His sarcastic tone was lost on the grateful truck. "Just sit tight and don't let them ants near your lug nuts. I'll be out there shortly." There was a final crackle on the airwaves, followed by silence.
"Well alrighty Sheriff. Ah promise Ah won't go nowhere, but what was that ya said about mah lug nuts?… Sheriff?"
Nearly half an hour had passed by the time a very disturbed Mater heard the faint but unmistakable sound of an engine. Adjusting his left mirror, he spotted a shiny black speck in the distance behind him. A minute later Sheriff pulled up beside him.
"Dodge Ram it, son," he exclaimed. "Why you look as though you've seen the ghostlight! What's the matter with you?"
Mater ceased his moaning and convulsions just long enough to answer. "They found mah lug nuts, Sheriff."
The squad car rolled his eyes. "Well, maybe if you weren't standing right on top of a red anthill, you wouldn't be crawling with red ants."
"B-b-but Ah cain't move!" Mater replied. "Ah jist cain't! Ah done tried tuh, though. Tried 'n' tried till mah engine flooded an' mah back teeth started floatin.' Nothin'!" He stomped a front tire for emphasis. By doing this he accidentally flattened another anthill, causing a swarm of red ants to come charging out and cling to his tire like thousands of red sprinkles. Unable to move, Mater stomped his tire repeatedly to rid himself of the pests, but this only seemed to make them angrier.
Sheriff's grill quirked as he looked him over. "Well, I ain't no Doc, but I'm gonna go out on a limb and guess this was something that could have been prevented. Tell me, when was the last time you had an oil change?"
Mater blushed. "Ah refuse tuh answer that on the grounds that that there's a highly personal question!" he said defensively, jabbing an ant-encrusted tire at the car.
"Well then, there's nothing I can do for you," Sheriff said as he shook his hood. "Looks like you're gonna have to call a tow truck."
Mater blinked in confusion. "But Ah am a tow truck! Why would Ah wanna call mahself?"
Sheriff sighed. "Call another tow truck and ask him to come out here and tow you back to town."
"Why that's uh great idea! But Ah jist cain't do that."
"Why not?"
Mater blushed again. "Cuz Ah cain't. That's all."
"But why?"
"Cuz," he said with a shrug.
Sheriff growled. "Mater, that's not a reason. Look, just call someone from the nearest town and tell 'em where you are. On second thought, let me tell 'em. It was hard enough finding you myself."
Mater ground his tire into the dirt, burying it up to his hubcap to soothe the burning ant bites. "Ah cain't call 'em, Sheriff!" he insisted. "Mah, uh, mah radio don't work!"
"It was working just fine when you called me a half hour ago."
"Well it ain't now."
"Right. Then I guess we'll just have to use mine." Sheriff turned his radio on and started calling for a tow truck. Mater panicked when he heard a garbled reply. He reached a tire out to the squad car to try to stop him, but it was no use. With a slightly annoyed smirk, the cruiser simply scooted out of his reach while he explained the situation to the truck on the other end.
"Aw c'mon, Sheriff! Ah'm beggin' ya, please don't call another tow truck out here! Ah'd jist die of embarrassment. Purdy, purdy please!"
Sheriff stared at him in disbelief, then mumbled something and shut his radio off. He rolled toward Mater, his expression a mixture of curiosity and concern. "What's the big deal, son?" he asked gently. "Why are you so dang afraid of being towed?"
"Ah ain't afraid!" Mater declared loudly, then blushed and shrank away from the car. "Ah jist cain't allow another tow truck tuh tow me home. It ain't right."
"But sometimes it's necessary," Sheriff argued. "I mean, how else do you plan to get home?"
Mater shrugged. "Ah dunno. All Ah know is, a tow truck gettin' hisself towed is about the lowest thing there is."
"Oh, there are worse things than that, I can assure you," Sheriff said. "Much worse. As a cop, I've seen things you wouldn't believe."
Mater pricked his mirrors. "Like a cop gettin' arrested by another cop?"
Sheriff stared at him in surprise, then frowned. "Touché."
"An' even if Ah didn't die of embarrassment, Ah'd still die of embarrassment," Mater went on, "b'cuz Ah done went commando today." Sheriff raised a brow in question and Mater glanced around before lowering his voice. "Ah ain't wearin' a skid plate. See?" Without warning he tilted away from the squad car, lifting up his double rear tires to show him. Despite his argument, the tow truck appeared far too comfortable revealing this little secret to Sheriff.
The old cruiser's eyes nearly popped out of his windshield before he turned away with a grimace. "Aw jeez! Is there any part of you that ISN'T rusted over? Chrysler." Mater lowered himself, but not before an unfortunate female Cooper caught an eyeful of corroded undercarriage as she passed.
"If you ever do that again, I'll arrest you for public indecency," Sheriff warned. "Now I'm sure other tow trucks like yourself have seen a lot worse," he continued, grille wrinkling in disgust, "so you might as well just swallow your pride and call one out here."
"Nope!" Mater replied, turning his nose up stubbornly. "Ah done told ya, Sheriff. Ah cain't call on another tow truck, no matter whut."
The squad car growled heatedly. "Fine!" he snapped. "Sit out here and rust then! No, not rust. Rot! I'm sure you'll make those ants happy."
"Aw c'mon, Sheriff. Maybe if ya jist gave me a lil push -"
"Forget it! I ain't got time for your games! It's gettin' late, and Main Street ain't gonna patrol itself! I'll see you later, Mater. Or not," he added as he turned toward the road.
"Wait! Ya cain't jist leave me out here!" Mater pleaded. "It's gettin' dark! W-what if the g-g-ghost light comes fer mah h-h-hood?"
"You ain't got a hood, remember?"
"But Sheriff -"
"No! You can tow yourself home for all I care!" the cruiser shouted back at him. Without another word, he accelerated and sped off down the road, leaving Mater alone in the desert as the sun sank behind the hills. The hapless pickup watched him go, as he grew smaller and smaller and finally vanished in the distance.
"Tow mahself home… that's genius!" he shouted out into the descending dusk. "Why didn't Ah think o' that?" Letting out a moderate length of cable, he proceeded to swing his towing boom around in a vertical circle. The cable began to hum as it picked up speed, slicing the cool air with an insect-like buzz. He then cast it upward like a fishing line aiming for heaven. It sailed over his cab and landed with a clink against a small stone. Mater crawled forward until his front end was directly over the hook, then started to reel it in.
He felt it snag the underside of his bumper just a moment before the line went taut. Giving it an experimental tug, he laughed triumphantly, then pulled. His front end lifted up, just a fraction of an inch, while his towing boom complained with creaks and groans. "C'mon, Mater. You kin do it!" he growled through gritted teeth, grunting and snorting like a mad bull tractor.
Summoning up all of his strength, he gave the cable a violent yank. In a split second, a dozen things seemed to happen. First, there was an odd noise, like a CRACK-wizz-WHACK, then searing pain, as stars exploded before Mater's eyes. And then the line went slack. When he recovered, he started to reel it in. "What the -?" Hanging from the hook was his own front fender."Aw crud," he mumbled, dangling the thing in front of his face. "Ah gotta lay off the Ho Ho's."
It was late. Very, very late. The stars themselves would have to burn out in order for the night to get any darker than it already was. In fact, it was so dark out that Mater had kept his eyes shut for the entire evening, having long since discovered that the darkness behind his eyelids was not nearly as severe. He had just begun to doze off when a low voice spoke directly in front of him.
"Wake up."
"Huh whuh -?" Mater yawned, squinting against Sheriff's low beams.
The squad car gave him a fatherly smile. "Time to go home, son."
Mater grinned. "Well trash mah bed an' call me a dump truck! Ya came to push me back tuh town!"
"Not exactly," Sheriff murmured. He moved aside to reveal a large yellow truck. Mater stared up at him, puzzled.
"Well howdy there!" the big truck greeted him cheerfully. "It's not every day I'm called out to assist another tow truck, but hey, these things happen!" He rolled toward Mater with a far-too-pleasant smile. "Now let's see about getting you hooked up -"
Mater practically tripped over his own tires as he scrambled to back away. "Oh no! Don't need no help here! No siree! So you kin jist take yer tow hook and shove it -"
"Mater!" Sheriff barked, getting right in his face and blinding him with his high beams and searchlights combined. He looked positively livid. "You're gettin' towed whether you like it or not!"
The poor truck shriveled up under his glare. "Y-yes sir," he squeaked. As the other tow truck moved toward him, Mater swallowed a large lump in his throat - a lump that consisted mainly of pride - and looked up at him warily. "If ya gotta do it, then take me by mah front end. Ah don't want no total strangers playin' grab-ass with me." One of his front tires brushed against something on the ground. His fender. He looked down at it and sighed.
"Oh. Right." With a blush, Mater hung his front end in defeat. He closed his eyes tight as the truck moved behind him. "Grab away," he murmured, raising his rear. Something smooth and cool, and noticeably free of rust, slipped underneath him, and then gently, oh so gently, started to lift his back end up. The soft whirring sound of a motorized winch helped to soothe his nerves.
So this is what it's like, he mused, bein' on the other end of a towin'. Why, this ain't nearly as bad as Ah thought! In fact, it's kinda nice…He felt his back end settle to the ground again as the whirring ceased.
"You all secure back there?" asked the truck. Mater's eyes snapped open and he suddenly found himself standing on a platform of some sort, roughly five or six feet above the ground.
"What in the name of the Almighty Ford am Ah doin' up here?" he demanded as Sheriff appeared directly in front of (and below) him. His grille curved in a smile.
"You're ridin' in style, son - on the back of a flatbed truck!"
Mater's jaw dropped. His combined shock, relief and joy were so great that he found himself trembling like Lizzie caught in an earthquake with a caffeine rush. Sheriff chuckled.
Minutes later the sound of cheers shattered the silent night and echoed throughout the desert. "YAHOOOOOOOO!!" Mater shouted at the top of his voice, as the crisp night wind whistled past his mirrors. "AH'M KING O' THE WORLD!!" With a deep rumble the flatbed revved his engine, bearing away a VERY happy tow truck down Route 66.
THE END
Please, please, please R & R & R! And don't ask me what the third R is for. And thanks to Dodgesuperbee for the "grab-ass" joke!