When Mr. Kamphone come out of his house one Sunday morning, he found the rubber groundsheet was off his car and this big old black guy was standing staring at the yella Citroen like he hadn't never seen one before. Khampone stood staring at Waldo. Waldo stood staring at the car.
It was uncanny. The only car him and Aretha'd ever owned was a yella Citroen. It was a hunk of shit but it was the only car they could afford. It took 'em three years to drive it to its grave but they did get a hell of a lot of good times out of it in them three years.
It being the size it was, and them being the sizes they was, they couldn't never sit together in the front seat. So Waldo sat in the front and Aretha sat in the back with her arms around his neck. Off they'd go in that little yella box of French rust, never knowing how far they was gonna get before the thing overheated. It always overheated.
That's why they called their Sunday car rides their 'adventure trips'. Wherever it was the car started to give off smoke signals, that's where they'd stop and have their picnic. It sounds kinda crazy but with the car playing such a big part in their adventures, it was like it was helping plan the trips. It was like it enjoyed 'em as much as they did.
Aretha stayed up most of Saturday nights putting the hamper together. Of course they didn’t always end up in some scenic spot. There was times they'd wind up having a picnic under a billboard on the highway, or in the parking lot of a diner. But that was the fun of it. They never knew.
They called the car Old Lemon, seeing as Citroen was almost French for lemon and that's what it was. And here it was. Not the same Old Lemon of course, but a passing copy. Waldo had saw it peeking out from under the rubber sheet and he couldn't resist having a look. All them happy days come flooding over him and he couldn't tear himself away.
Mr. Kamphone didn't know why this big guy was crying at the sight of his car and he couldn't ask him. For all their years of colonizing the country, the French didn't actually leave much of a legacy. They weren't much for roads and water systems and schools, and stuff like that. They left a lot of buildings that didn't match the local style at all, and wouldn't last long, and they taught a few maids how to cook frogs. But they sure left a lot of rusty old car bodies. Laos was a cemetery of dead French cars and them queer little mopeds.
Kamphone inherited this heap from his old boss. The man had fled the country when there was a chance he might get shot by the communists for making money from the down-trodden Lao peasants. He took with him the company parole and Kamphone's first wife. It was a fair swap in Kamphone's book and he looked after the car better than he ever looked after his wife. He couldn't afford to put gas in it no more so he kept it oiled and polished and free from dust under a rubber groundsheet.
It impressed him that this foreigner was so moved by his car. As he couldn't find out why, he went inside and come out with the key, and handed it over to Waldo. Waldo come over all mushy, and said a bunch of stuff. Then he hugged the poor little guy. That was more thanks than he needed and he started to wonder whether he'd just given his car away.
But Waldo pointed to his watch, hugged Kamphone again, and opened the car door real delicate-like. Kamphone hadn't never seen a man so happy to be having so much trouble getting in a car. When he was all in, he filled up the whole driver's side and half the passenger seat. The steering wheel was someplace under his left arm. It was like he was wearing the car.
But he sure knew where everything was and started it first time. Citroens sound like something cruel's going on under the hood even when they're new. But the screech was like music to Waldo. Him and Aretha used to cheer whenever Old Lemon was kind enough to start. So he cheered and found a suitable gear and edged gently out of Kamphone's yard. The Lao fella signaled to the gas tank and Waldo put up his thumb and away he went.
Kamphone wasn't too sure what he'd just done, or why. But the big guy sure did seem happy, and there wasn't that many happy looking people around in Laos in them days.
-o-
Nit and Pop was sitting out front of the auberge when this little yella car pulled up beside 'em and a sweating Waldo winded down the window. He smiled at 'em and said something in that language o' his and clicked open the back door. Every day with Waldo was a mystery. He called 'em in and in they got.
The kids was mighty impressed with the way old Waldo slid his way through the gears and glided smooth as syrup down the main street of Savannakhet. They didn't know where they was going and they didn't care much. If there'd been someone around who spoke English, and if he'd bothered to ask, that someone probably would of advised against his taking the road up to the north east of town. They probably would of told him there was a lot of trouble with PL up there and that it was the last place they'd send an American in a French car.
But there weren't no one around to give that advice, so Waldo drove north east. He spent most of the trip looking down the holes that appeared in front of them and trying to get around 'em. But when he did have a couple of yards of flat road, he took in the sights and the sounds and the smells.
I guess Waldo was expecting the car to overheat, cause he just kept on going. With the state of the road they hadn't gone more than ten miles in the first hour. But that was far enough to get 'em to the new administration zone that was controlled by the PL; the same PL that was shooting down American planes and sabotaging American concerns around the country.
Waldo was singing; 'Row, Row Row your Boat,' and the kids'd heard it so many times, they was singing it too. But they couldn't understand why he kept stopping and starting again in the wrong places. So they kept stopping and starting too. Waldo seemed to think this was real hilarious so they kept doing it. They loved to watch him laugh. It was the first time Nit really come out of her shell. They was all in a great mood when they reached the road block and the AK47's come poking in through the windows.
Waldo wasn't too worried about the war. He figured as he was living with PL and he was a close friend of the CIA, he had both sides covered. But them young soldiers in their new uniforms, they didn't know nothing about Waldo's contacts. They was fresh off the propaganda farm. They'd spent the last six months with a wise Vietnamese corporal who taught 'em just how cruel, sneaky and two-faced the American imperialists was.
They'd seen actual photographs of what the American imperialist lackeys was capable of doing. They'd seen entire red Indian tribes wiped out and scalped. They'd seen poor people froze to death on the streets of New York, and slaves hung by the neck from trees like apples in an orchard. They'd seen television pornography that even young children could watch while they was having dinner. They'd seen this guy John Wayne butcher a whole regiment of Asians while people in the cinema cheered and whistled.
And here at their barricade, terror had stepped out of the classroom and confronted them on their first day of active duty. Not one thing the American imperialist lackey said could be believed. Nothing he appeared to be could be trusted.
What evil trick was them Americans playing here?
They couldn't work out why he was being so cool about having a machine gun in his nose. The kids in the back seat figured Waldo knew something they didn't, so they relaxed too.
The young guards was wired but they still played it by the book. No. 1. Get the enemy out of his vehicle. No. 2. Disarm and incapacitate the enemy. Now in the book that was OK. But in real life Waldo had swelled up some since they took off from Savannaket. There didn’t seem no way they was gonna get him out. They got them other two imperial lackey collaborators out and was searching them. But they didn't seem too concerned about things, neither.
The guards decided if they couldn't get the big guy out, they'd just have to go in and search him where he sat. But there was one last trick in his box of mind warfare. They didn’t know it, but Waldo had been ticklish since he was a littlun. He couldn't stand no one touching him. So when the young PL guys started prodding and poking him, he pee'd himself laughing. That got the kids in a giggle-fit no one could stop.
The guards kinda stood back and watched. They was scratching their brains and looking at each other blank as suet. This weren't what they imagined conflict to be like. This was much worse.
They huddled together.
"What do we do?"
"They're technically prisoners of war. We should take 'em to the commander."
"Right."
"You think he …?"
"What?"
"You think he might be pissed that we didn't follow instructions?"
The kids was back in the Citroen having a fit. The car was vibrating like a spin drier.
"You mean …?"
"I mean, No. 2. Disarm and incapacitate the enemy. No. 3. Extract
basic information. No. 4. Shoot if they resist.
"You think we should?"
"Should?"
"Shoot 'em."
"Look, I …"
"Go on. Say it."
"Nothing they taught us at orientation covered this. I think we have
to use our initiative."
"I don’t know. That doesn't sound very …"
"Very what?"
"Very communistic."
"Right. You're right. What would Ho Chi Min do?"
"Good point. What would Brother Ho do?"
"In this situation?"
"Yeah."
"No fucking idea."
"Me neither."
The old yella car was rocking and rolling around like some ride at a fun fair. All three of the invading army inside was laughing so bad it really hurt. Nit thought she was gonna burst open.
"Or we could …"
"Let 'em go."
"Pretend we never saw 'em."
"It'd make our lives easier."
"I ain't too sure I'm cut out for this work."
-o-
Three hours later, Nit Pop, Waldo and the funny wagon arrived back in Savannakhet. They'd stopped at some scenic spots, caught toads, and fixed a flat tire. The kids was sure they'd never have so much fun again in their lives.
Waldo filled up the tank with premium, and got the tire fixed before he took the car back to Mr. Kamphone. He seemed surprised to see it. Waldo give him $20 rental. Kamphone give it back. He figured he'd made up enough good karma that day already he didn't want to get greedy. He had a feeling it was his day. On an urge, he took the last ferry across the river, met a woman, and, as far as we know, lived a happy life. Weird how life works out, ain't it?