Dewitt and T. P. wait in front of a small commercial airport out West, their luggage beside them. A taxi pulls up and slows, but T. P. motions it on. A limo pulls up but T. P. motions it along also. Then there comes an unmistakable engine sound that causes Dewitt to look to his left, his eyes widening in disbelief and terror: Willie is driving up on a huge black Harley-Davidson motorcycle, complete with sidecar and a pull-along trailer at the back!
Shortly thereafter, with luggage and wheelchair neatly tucked into the trailer and Dewitt safely ensconced in the sidecar, Willie pulls onto an Interstate highway as T. P. sits behind him holding on, as seems usual, for dear life.
On a high desert highway, with the Rocky Mountains stretching magnificently in the distance, and having driven for some time with no other vehicles in sight, Willie slows the big “hog” and steers it to the side of the road. He looks over at Dewitt, who mouths a “Now what?” as the engine dies.
“I’m sorry, Colonel. We’re about to get to places which you may later recognize, so we are going to have to put you ‘out’ for awhile.”
Dewitt looks over at T. P. who shrugs “Sorry”, holds up a filled syringe and needle, then hands it to Willie.
“Oh, come on,” sighs Dewitt. “You know I can’t let you do that. Who knows what’s in that thing. I mean, I really gotta fight you on this one.”
T. P. and Willie reach over for Dewitt’s arm. The three struggle and the two Indians finally capture and lock Dewitt’s forearm. Willie thrusts the needle – but it happens to find T. P.’s forearm instead.
“Ouch!” cries T. P.
The struggle ends. Everyone becomes gentlemanly again.
“Willie,” says T. P., rather groggily, “I’m getting very, very slee-“
He slumps against the sidecar. Willie looks over at Dewitt who just assumes a “Hey, these things happen” pose.
He says, “Just drop him on my lap, Willie. I’ll take good care of him.”
“You know,” Willie says to Dewitt, “nothing else could possibly go wrong with my day.”
“Oh, yeah?” asks Dewitt. “Wellll, ‘Just as you thought it was safe to go back in the water.’”
“Hey, that’s from ‘Jaws 2,” isn’t it?” notes Willie.
“Uh-huh.”
“Good movie. I like movies. You like movies, Colonel?”
“Yes I do, Mister Motorcycle,” says Dewitt, laughing. “But, you know, about there not being anything else that could go wrong?”
“Uh-huh.”
Taking a deep breath, Dewitt begins to inform Willie, “Well, I’ve got something to tell you that just may not ‘make your day,’ so to speak.”
“Yeah? Clint Eastwood. Good movie. – Uh, what sort of thing, Colonel?”
“Well, first of all, you’re going to have to stop calling me ‘Colonel,’ I’m afraid.”
As Dewitt explains, Willie motors along, a little swerve of the motorcycle the only indication that the message has been delivered: Willie and T. P. have captured the wrong man.