The magic trick:
A road trip story that never actually gets on the road
This is a very funny story. It made me laugh a lot. I’m glad it exists, and I’m glad I read it.
It starts with two men hatching a scheme to find a better life. One guy knows a woman making a bunch of money in Alaska. Sure, ok. The joke then is that as the narrator begins to outline the finer points of the scheme, there are a whole ton of crazy steps before the two ever even get to Alaska. The hypothetical scheme becomes so detailed it’s absurd. But the writing is so good – and so funny – the hypothetical becomes more vivid than anything described in the past tense.
It’s a great read.
And that’s quite a trick on Franklin’s part.
The selection:
At night we’d stop in dives, me in my dark glasses and Bruce in his eelskin cowboy boots. There’d be smoky harems of women interested in such eclectic guys, and they’d insist on buying us boilermakers. When I picked up a babe, I’d take the truck and leave Bruce arm-wrestling a drunk welder at the bar. Or if he got lucky and split with a startling honey, I’d amble to the jukebox and punch up John Prine and lure my dream girl away from the line-dancing bikers and cowboys. In the middle of the fight, I’d crawl bleeding out the back and sleep on a rock next to a cow skull and wait until the olive drab truck topped the hill in the morning.
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