Castoff

         Marvin Higgs, a retired glazier and long time resident of Astoria, Oregon, was traveling south on Highway 101 to visit friends living in Crescent City, California. It was nearing 11:00 at night when, just north of Otter Rock, the carefree traveler’s car headlights shone on a whitish-colored object lying off to the side of the road. Curious as to what the object was, Higgs stopped and with the aid of a flashlight, took a closer look.
         The object was the size and shape of a duffel bag that was snuggly wrapped with a coarse white linen bandage. The first thought coming to Higgs was that he came upon someone’s lost luggage. Surprised by its unexpected heft of more than ten pounds, Higgs lifted the bundle and tossed it in the backseat of his car. He figured he’d check it out and maybe be able to locate the owner after checking in at the Best Western in Newport where he plained to spend the night.
         Higgs hadn’t driven a mile when his curiosity got the best of him. He had to find out what the bundle contained. Stopping at an unpaved sightseers pull-out, Higgs lifted his roadside find from the backseat and plopped it on the ground. Catching sight of a frazzled end of the white linen bandage, the inquisitive traveler pulled on it. The more the bandage was pulled, the more the bundle unwound, bouncing as it spun about on the ground. Higgs’ imagination grew more wild. Cash from a bank heist crossed his mind as did the possibility of unwrapping the remains of someone’s dead pet.
         Hand over hand, Higgs pulled the white linen bandage until what was once a bundle of potential something became two hundred yards of definite nothing piled in a heap on the ground. Disappointed, but not surprised his bundle of riches turned out to be a dud, Higgs left his evaporated dream of fortune where it lay absorbing the coastal mist and returned to his car.
         Higgs was about to pull back onto the highway when he saw reflecting in his car’s rearview mirror flashing red and blue lights. Expecting to be hauled off to the hoosegow for some kind of major litter-bugging violation, Higgs was relieved when the cop pardoned him with a stern reprimand.
         “Pick it up! Put it in your car, and take it with you!”
         “Yes, Officer…,”
         “Felicione. Officer Felicione.”
         Higgs politely responded as he stuffed the jumbled linen into his car’s backseat. He thanked Officer Felicione for not writing a ticket and wished him a safe night. Then, slowly, thankful he got off as lightly as he did, Higgs pulled back onto the highway.
         After burning an hour with what turned into a frustrating fiasco, the weary traveler hadn’t driven more than fifteen minutes when, approaching Yaquina Bay Bridge in Newport, he felt something crawling on the back of his neck. Higgs slapped at it only to have his hand grabbed and held behind him. Higgs wheeled his head around to see that which could not be: one end of the white linen bandage was attacking him. Within seconds, more of it wrapped itself around his neck. Panicked and gasping to breathe, Higgs reached behind with his free arm, but it too was quickly constrained by the other end of the demonic bandage.
         Coil upon coil wrapped around Higgs’ neck and arms, each coil clenching tighter than the previous. Struggling to free himself Higgs’ right foot inadvertently pushed the accelerator to the floor. The car sped steer-less off the bridge at its majestic arch and plunged into the bay’s cold and still water.
         As soon the car hit the water, the white linen bandage’s deadly stranglehold relaxed allowing the dazed and shaken traveler to free himself and escape the sinking car through the opening left by the shattered and dislodged windshield. Higgs surfaced and was rescued by a couple in a boat who witnessed his car mysteriously fly over the bridge’s safety railing.
         The far-fetched explanation Higgs gave as to why he drove his car off a bridge and into the bay was twisted by authorities to a more logical drunk driving charge, but that too was discounted when blood work revealed there were no traces of drugs or alcohol present.
         Higgs was cited for wreckless driving and charged a hefty fine; an ever heftier bill was handed him to have his car removed from the bay. Higgs filed a claim with his insurance carrier, rented a car, and with a diminished level of curiosity, the lucky-to-be-alive retired glazier left Newport and continued his trek to Crescent City, albeit behind schedule.
         Higgs’ car, a 2012 Buick Regal, was towed to a salvage yard where, for two weeks, it remained drying out. Eventually, the drowned Buick became the property of Mac’s Bodyworks. In a matter of three grueling weeks, Mac and his army of repair specialists had the Buick looking and running like new. It was sold at auction to a local fisherman.
         The white linen bandage was offered to Barbara Lang. The fifty-six-year-old widow who operated a hobby and gift shop in Astoria, was in Newport for a crafts convention. Barbara crammed the bundle of castoff linen into a cardboard box and placed it on the backseat of her orange ‘71 Fiat 124 Spider she called Zucca. After idle conversation with conventioneers, Barbara hit the road around 5:30, heading north on Highway 101.
         At a gas station in Depoe Bay, She was topping off Zucca when she noticed the linen freebee given her in Newport was missing. The cardboard box was sitting where she left it, but the linen bandage was not inside it.
         “Such a pity,” Barbara mused aloud. “Darn thing must’ve blown out when I passed through that gust of wind at Otter Rock. Too bad. It would’ve made wonderful kite tails.”

WC: 974