I hope everyone is having a perfectly hopeful Hump Day because as you know, hope springs eternal, there’s a new hope in Star Wars and…okay. I’ll stop now. In case I haven’t hammered it home yet, today’s #1lineWed theme is **HOPE**.
Today, mine are from the rough draft of Red Dirt Royalty #8, as yet unnamed, which is Tucker’s story. Tucker is in eastern Tennessee looking at some new talent for Bent Star Records. Here’s hoping he knows what he’s in for. 😉
Jerking the wheel, Tucker cursed and fought gravity but kept the T-bird between the lines. He blinked at the car that passed then pulled away from him. Was that a Trans Am? He laughed out loud. It was. It was a freaking Smokey and the Bandit Trans Am. Covered in paper flowers and trailing beers cans. Good grief. Then something white and filmy flew up through the open T-tops on the Trans Am. He watched, fascinated, as the backwash from the car sent the thing soaring. Tucker slowed and downshifted, paying more attention to the material sailing toward him than he was the road.
A truck hit its air horn, and for the second time, Tucker jerked his car back into the correct lane—just in time for the white material to snag on his radio antenna. He slowed further, reached over, and grabbed the lacy thing. It wasn’t until he had it in his hand that he realized it was a wedding veil. Complete with a sparkling, plastic tiara. Yeah, that gathering had definitely been a wedding and evidently the newlyweds were in a real hurry. He accelerated back to the speed limit and wondered if the groom had the bride in his lap while he was driving, then hoped they wouldn’t wreck.
Twenty minutes later, he spotted a cloud of smoke just over the crest of a hill. Crap. He hoped his wayward thoughts hadn’t jinxed the couple. Tucker slowed down as he hit the top. Halfway down, the Trans Am was pulled off to the side of the road. Oily black smoke poured from the exhaust pipes but he didn’t see any flames. The thing had probably blown its engine. As he edged his car closer, he caught sight of a woman wearing a white dress. She had the frothy skirt hiked up around her thighs as she kicked the car with her white western boots. She glanced up—briefly—then went back to kicking.
Tucker pulled over and parked in front of the Trans Am—out of the choking smoke. He looked around for the groom, but it appeared the bride was alone. Curious. He got out and as her curses washed over him, he approached with a bit of trepidation. Apparently, the woman was not happy with the entire male gender. Taking his life and manhood in his hands, he stopped out of kicking distance.
Go forth, find and share your hopeful words.