Velociworld

The Senator and the Purse Snatch

Once upon a time, when I was still viable (call it the late 70's) I went to the drive-in with my oldest sister and two brothers. The Montgomery Drive-In. There to watch Grizzly, as I recall.

We ranged in age I suppose from 18 to 26. Just happened to all be in town at the same time, had had enough of the parents, and needed some smoke time.

So there we were, stoned, watching an enormous ursine creature slap the fucking arm off a chick. Not that we cared. It was merely escape entertainment.

At some point my sister and I caught the munchies, and went into the drive-in commissary for delectables. Poccern slathered in lard, Raisenets, Dots. The usual. I was paying, so my sister left her purse in the front seat. My brothers were in the back seat (playing grabass, no doubt). As it was a sweltering summer night the windows were down, and so these marauding colored kids reached in and grabbed the purse. It was a sweet, textbook snatch. No problem there. Had it coming, we did. Damned near dared the poor lads to take it. It couldn't be holped.

Our buzz was killed, though, and we went home muttering about what we wudda shudda done to them darkies. The fucking nerve, we said.

I forgot about it in an hour or two, it not being my credit cards, cash, and driver's license. The Senator, however, did not.

He got his dander up. The next morning he took his Ruger Blackhawk .357 magnum and his 1972 Lincoln Continental Mark IV and went a hunting for scofflaw Negroes. Here the car:

Except it was ice white, with a baby blue landau top.

Sweet, eh? Anyhows, the Senator proceeded to cruise the black neighborhood behind the Drive-in, stopping, getting out, interrogating the locals, trying to figure out 'Where that purse?' 'Who saw it?' 'Who are those boys?'

Jesus. That crowd had circled the wagons. They weren't sharing shit with the Senator, I don't care how often he slammed the Ruger on the roof of the Lincoln.

What the hell was he thinking?

I guess he was old school. Thought those nigras would drop a dime on a homey for a get out of jail free card. I don't know. I DO know this:

No way in hell would I have worked that neighborhood. That was rough shit. I'm not even sure, to this day, the Senator understood what kind of Injun Territory he was in.

He didn't find that purse, but he was probably whistling a country and western tune when he drove away. Big shit eating grin on his face.