Monday, November 14, 2005

Pervert Alert!

Copyright 2000 By Alan Burkhart

This one may raise a few eyebrows. I don't recommend this story for children. The main reason I'm finally telling this story is that along with being one of the strangest events in my life, it's also one of the funniest. It wasn't funny when it happened, mind you. But, nowadays I can look back on this event and… well… chuckle nervously while shaking my head in disbelief.

It was late on a summer night in 1989. I was traveling south on Interstate 79, and had just passed out of Pennsylvania into West Virginia. As I recall, I was on my way to Charlotte, N.C. It was a cloudy night, although there was no rain. I passed a sign that stated that there was a parking area one mile ahead. I elected to pull in and answer nature's call, since the truck stops are generally pretty crowded at night.

The parking area had no lights. It wasn't even paved. It was just a rough gravel driveway that widened out to allow for parking, and then narrowed again as it returned to the interstate. As I rumbled down the ramp into the parking area, I noticed that there were three vehicles already parked inside. There were two 18-wheelers and a car. One of the trucks had its parking lights on. The other was dark. As I neared the car, I noticed that the dome light came on briefly, although it didn't stay on long enough for me to discern anything within the car.

It was right about then that the driver in the truck with its lights on spoke up on the CB radio: Hey, driver… will you help me with something?"

"Of course I will. What do ya need?" I replied.

"Well… there's something REALLY strange going on with that car, man. But I don't wanna check it out alone. I've been sittin' here half an hour waitin' for someone else to stop in."

My curiosity was instantly piqued, and I stopped the truck just ahead of the car, relieved my aching bladder (first things first!), then joined the other driver, who introduced himself as "Rick". Rick was a helluva specimen, about six feet three and built like Tarzan. He was carrying his "Tire Thumper", so I stopped in my tracks, turned back to my truck, and grabbed mine as well. If by chance you don't know what a tire thumper is, think of a miniature baseball bat. We use them to "thump" the tires to be sure they're not low on air. A tire thumper is also a very good "head thumper". Whatever Rick had seen or heard had evidently upset him pretty badly. If something was scaring this big guy, then I figured there was reason for concern.

As we approached the car, the left front door opened just a crack, and the dome light came on again. My heart almost popped out of my mouth. Kneeling in the backseat was a tall blonde woman; my guess age-wise would be mid-twenties. She was wearing only a pair of white cotton panties. Her hands were tied to the hangers that support the seatbelt shoulder straps, and there was a gag on her mouth. She had evidently nudged the door, which was ajar, just a bit with her fingertips to make the dome light come on. My first impulse was to yank the door open and "rescue" this damsel in distress. I can't stand to see anyone suffer. Rick laid a hand on my shoulder, and whispered, "Go slow."

We conferred for a quick moment, and determined that he would stay a few steps behind and cover my back while I freed this poor woman… if indeed she was actually a prisoner. We were concerned that the whole thing might be a trap of some kind. Don't call me paranoid… this has happened to truckers in the past. There could easily have been a couple of guys in the shadows waiting for someone to attempt to free her alone. We weren't taking any chances. As I approached the car again, I saw the look on her face. Her eyes were reminiscent of a frightened animal. I opened the door and was about to say something like "Don't worry, it's gonna be all right," when I noticed the first thing that didn't make sense.

There were hard-core porn magazines scattered all over the interior of the car. Most of them, I noticed, were of the "guys doing guys" variety. I carefully removed the gag from her face and asked her if she was okay. She said, "Yes, I think so," in a voice that just didn't sound at all feminine. Let me say here that she had pretty breasts. I'm not being rude or nasty here, okay? The simple fact was that they were very pretty breasts. And, they were obviously real, although I was beginning to suspect that they weren't original equipment.

"How did this happen?" I asked.

"I just stopped here for a minute and these guys rushed me from the woods."

"They tied you up?"


"Where'd the porn come from?"

At this point the story started to fall apart, so she started begging for me to release her. I motioned for Rick to come closer. He was a bit uncomfortable with the idea of looking in at the girl given her current state of undress, but I insisted.

"Listen." I said.

As he listened to her babbling about rapists and robbers, Rick's eyes widened noticeably. "Look!" he said, pointing downward.

"Her" cotton panties were beginning to have a difficult time containing whatever was in them, and by that time I was pretty sure as to what it was. That's when I noticed the feet. No woman EVER had feet this ugly.

"That sonofabitch!" Rick muttered, and actually pulled his pocketknife.

"WHOA!!!" I exclaimed, and pulled him away from the car.

"C'mon man," I said, "Let's just get the hell outta here."

We left in a heckuva hurry, and stopped at the next exit and found a department store parking lot we could fit our trucks into. I grabbed a pay phone and called the cops. The dispatcher laughed and said that yes, this little pervert was up there one or two times a week, and always left when he suspected trouble was afoot. He'd be gone before an officer could get there.

I was flabbergasted, to say the least. I turned to Rick and related to him what the police dispatcher had told me. He shook his head and stared off into space for a moment, then turned around and looked me in the eye.

"I'm glad you came along," he began, "because I'd have probably cut the little ##bleep## if I'd been alone."

We shook hands, and headed down the road. When we reached the junction with U.S. 19, he continued down I-79, while I jumped onto 19 and headed for Charlotte. I've never seen him again. As to the little pervert in the parking area, I've never seen him/she/it again either, and I hope I never do.

There's a lesson to be learned from this. In 21st century America, we are told to be tolerant of those who are different from us. I believe in this, and practice tolerance as a part of my own lifestyle. I have no real objections to homosexuality, pornography, etc, etc. But, if those who wish to practice what is considered by many to be deviant sexual behavior wish to be tolerated by the rest of us, they should have the common sense to act in a tolerable manner. I have several friends who are either gay or bisexual. Their bedroom preferences are not an issue for me. They are decent, everyday people who lead decent, everyday lives. You won't see them cross-dressing in an interstate parking area, and they have no desire to change their gender.

The little wacko in the parking area must have been in the final stages of a sex-change procedure. By now, he probably doesn't have that lump in his panties anymore. Hmm… that still bothers me when I think about it. I don't like the idea of a man getting a lump in his panties for me. If two guys can get it with each other, that's fine with me, as long as they don't expect me join in. I don't have a moral problem with it. It simply does not appeal to me, nor do I believe that it ever will.

The point is if he wants to be a woman, that's okay, he can be a woman. But the stunt he evidently pulled on a regular basis in that parking area goes well beyond tolerable. That's the kind of aberrant behavior that creates animosity between gays and straights. It doesn't faze me at all to see a gay or lesbian couple holding hands in the mall. But tying yourself up in your car, hoping to get raped is something else altogether! That guy (girl?) needs help in the worst way.

I asked a gay friend if he or his partner ever considered a sex change. He was shocked at the idea. He informed me in no uncertain terms that they liked men, and that a sex change by either of them would have destroyed their relationship. They have, by the way, been together for almost 20 years. A bi-lady I chat with on the net from time to time considered this tale for a day or so before replying to me. She said that the guy was probably in a state of confusion because of hormonal changes brought on by the on-going sex change. She was thinking that he'd be okay after he was finished. When asked if she thought this justified what he was doing, she replied with a hearty "HELL NO! That's too weird!" and we had a good laugh about it.

The bottom line: If you don't want to be treated like a freak, then DON'T BE A FREAK. Tolerance is a two-way street.

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