Josh later told me that, at this time, he didn't believe we were going to make it, and indeed, our situation did look precarious. Ten hours before a 350-mile trip, yet we had no mode of transportation, and apparently no hope of finding any.

I trudged down the stairs again and knocked on the door of Tyler Rinker, in the basement, thinking that perhaps Gregg Lytle or Jeremy Wilton might be there. It was an unlikely shot, to be sure. Tyler came to the door, and I asked for Gregg, but no one else was there. I turned to go, but before I could, Tyler said, "Hey - I haven't wrestled you yet!" I looked confused, and he exclaimed, "I've wrestled almost everyone in the dorm, but not you! Let's go!"

So we did, right there in the hallway, until the guy next door asked us to move to the lounge. So we did, and continued to, attracting an audience. I was performing fairly well for a novice wrestler, pinning him several times, until he got me in a headlock I got stuck in, ending the match. A giant rug burn on his leg was reopened, causing him to bleed quite profusely.

The man who lives above the basement lounge is RDA Josh Tate, and he had already told me he was staying up all night to study for his test. He came down after hearing the ruckus, but wasn't angry at the activity. It wasn't very loud; only he could hear it. So Tyler got up after losing to Mark Kaltenbaugh, and he, Josh, and I sat down in front of some SportsCenter.

I sighed deeply. Josh took this as a cue, bless his heart. "So you haven't found anyone yet?"
"Nope, nothing. We're stuck."
"What's going on?", Tyler wanted to know.
"They need to-", Josh started, but I interrupted, with the whole story of how there were poor, innocent children in New Jersey who needed chaperones to take them to a 76ers game, and that Jenny's transmission had died, and that we just needed the services of a car for the weekend, and were more than happy to fill it up with gas or repaint it.
"Okay, here's the deal," Tyler said, proving that sometimes even good news can be introduced awkwardly. "My keys are in my truck. But you've got to promise me that when you come back, you stop at the BP, and you fill that tank on there right up to the very top with gas. As long as you do that, you can take it. And go easy on her." He resumed watching television.

I had been burned before. "Are you serious?" Nod. "We can use your truck?" Nod. "Do you want any money for it?" Shake of head - "Just fill it up with gas."

And the kicker - I knew it was an automatic.

"Thank you so much," I screamed, making an effort to hug him before running up the six flights of stairs to the third floor in 3 seconds. Josh needed to know that we had a truck.

-TO BE CONTINUED- 

Part Six

NHS Speech

"My View" Editorial

The October Surprise
|  Round 1 |  2  |  3  |  4  |  5  |
|   6  |  7  |  8  |  9  |  10  |
|  11  |  12  |  Final Bell  |

Journey to Jersey II
|  Intro  |  1  |  2  |  3  |  4  |  5  |
|   6  |  7  |  8  |  9  |  10  |  11  |
|  12  |  13  |  14  |  15  |

Journey to Jersey I
|  1  |  2  |  3  |  4  |  5  |   6  |  7  |  8  |
|  9  |  10  |  11  |  12  |  13  |  14  |
|  15  |  16  |  17  |  18  |  19  |  20  |

An Epic Saga
|  Act  1  |  2  |  3  |  4  |  5  |
|   6  |  7  |  8  |  9  |  10  |  11  |
|  12  |  13  |  14  |  15  |  16  |

Christian Rock Email

Freshman Room Draw
|  Part One  |  Two  |
|  Three  |  Four  |  Five  |