I was awoken by the jostling motion of the end of my truck, slowly rising off the ground. My head pounded, and before I did anything, I located my purse from underneath my seat and took two Aspirins. It would take about twenty minutes for them to take full effect, but it was always better than nothing.
I shook off the crogginess left over from my nap, and stuck my head out of the window, and into the still strong downpour. The rain soaked my hair, changing the colour from golden blonde to a darker shade of brown. I remember when I was about 11, I always wanted my hair to remain that shade of gold, even when it wasn't wet. Now, I'm glad it remains blonde after it dries. The dark goldy-brown makes me look a lot paler than I truly am.
I glared through the thick droplets of water to see a small tow truck with the logo, "Buddy's Tow" , directly behind my own vehicle. On the side of the white truck, the slogan "You stow 'em we tow 'em" was painted about three inches below the main logo in a dark green.
Cheesy I smirked to myself.
I watched the driver get out of the truck and double check that the hook that was hooked under my back bumper was secure. The driver was a short bald man who had a long whipsy red beard with strands that were crimped and scattered in every direction. He wore a red plaid shirt that was buttoned up just enough to show a patch of curly white hairs that sprouted from his chest. The red plaid coverd just below the bottom of his beer belly, and below that he wore a pair of faded, torn up blue jeans and old brown and black runners. I wasn't sure if the brown on his shoes were part of the design, or just trails of mud left behind from crappy nights on the job.
He hobbled along, back inside the truck, and pulled a red lever. I groaned with my truck as I felt the hook pull upward once more, and I was forced forward by the motion, almost slamming my forhead into the bottom of the window frame. The man must not have seen me in the car before because I had dozed off. Now, I was about to be towed. Great.
I ducked my head back inside my truck and layed back down on the seat. My head was still spinning, and I was still exhausted from crying myslef asleep. I should really get out of the car and notify the owner of the tow truck that I was indeed still inside the car, but I somehow couldn't move. It felt like the right thing to do, just lay there while my car was being towed, myself still inside.
The car jolted as we took off, the opposite direction of where I wanted to go. Home. I sighed once more and braced myself for the moment the startled tow truck driver would realize I was still in the vehicle. I grinned at the thought of supprise that would be painted on the mans face as I climbed out or the driver's side, all smug, and thanked him for the lift. I fantasized about different possible statements I could make to the poor old man the whole way.
