They were traveling down a two-lane highway somewhere in between Long Beach and LA, and at 70 mph, in a convertible and no hairband, Taylor’s hair was just one big tangle. Of course, if you have long hair (like all three of the Hanson brothers do,) the worst place in a convertible to sit is the backseat. Taylor was living proof of that. He leaned in between Ike and Zac (who was in the passenger’s seat) to provide a little shelter from the wind. He glanced at the clock on the dashboard. It read 9:18. “Whoa! Ike, dude, your clock is way off!”
Issac couldn’t hear him very well because of all the wind noise. “What?” He yelled back at Taylor.
“Ike,” he yelled as loud as he could while trying to preserve his vocal chords. “man, your clock’s off!” He looked at his own watch. It read 7:59, 23 minutes after they’d left the house.
Issac looked at the clock on the dashboard. His Corvette was a 1979 classic car. It was irreplaceable. Inotherwords, if Issac ever got in a wreck and lost, say, a taillight, or a side mirror, he couldn’t get a replacement for it. The other thing about his car is that the clock on the dashboard wasn’t digital. It was the kind with a clock face and a minute hand and an hour hand. Which made it more than likely for the time to be off on it.
“Taylor, don’t yell! You’ll wreck your vocal chords!” Zac yelled.
“Zac,” Taylor could not get around yelling, not in a convertible. “You’re yelling too!”
“Hey!” Issac yelled. “Are you two crazy? Geezus! We’re recording tomorrow!”
“Issac! Pull over! Put the top up!” Taylor reasoned.
“Good plan!” Issac put on his right blinker and pulled over to the side of the road. He flipped the “top switch” and Taylor heard the electronic whirr of the convertible top going up. Issac was going to say something, until he saw Tay’s hair. He burst out laughing. “Taylor! Why didn’t you tell me you didn’t have a hair band? I’ve got tons in the glove compartment!” He handed Taylor a hair band and a brush and Taylor tried the best he could to work through the mess of tangles. “Now what were you saying, Tay?”
“I was,” he paused to give another yank at the hair brush. “saying that.. ow! That hurt!”
“Yes, yes, go on.” Zac prodded. Taylor cast him a dirty look. “What?” Zac asked innocently enough. Tay rolled his eyes.
Taylor put the hair brush down. “I was saying, Issac, that your clock is way off.”
Issac glanced at Taylor in the rear-view. “How do you mean?”
“My watch has 8:01. Your clock has 9:20. It’s a bit off.” Taylor said curtly.
“No, I’m afraid that your watch is what’s off.”
A car went by them and the wind from that car rocked the ‘vet so much it felt like it was going to tip over.
“Issac, let’s go. I-I don’t c-care what time it is.” Zac said. He was obviously shaken-up over the near-tip-over experience.
“What a rush!” Issac said jokingly as he put his left blinker on to get back on the road.
They traveled with the top down. Taylor was still trying to pull the brush through his tangled hair. He gave up and hastily put in the hairband. He couldn’t believe their mom was actually making them go out at 8:00 or what ever time it was, to pick up plywood. Then he remembered. “Oh shit! Issac!”
Issac whipped his head around. “Taylor, what’s wrong?”
“We’re supposed to pick up plywood!”
“So?” Issac obviously didn’t get it.
“So, we’re in a Corvette. A little one.”
“Oh, shit!” Issac realized it now too. “How are we going to get the plywood home?”
“Good question, Einstein.” Taylor said sarcastically. “But I think a better question would be where are we gonna get it, not how are we gonna get it home. Thankyouverymuch.”
“Very true.” Issac sighed. They were coming into a little town. They passed a grocery store, a gas station, a music store, insurance offices, dentist, and finally! A lumberyard!
“Hey, Issac,” Zac started, “How ‘bout there?”
“Good enough.” Issac pulled the car into the mini-parking lot and turned off the car. “Well, we still have a problem, guys.”
“Okay, well, you two work it out. I’m gonna go over to that little hippie store over there, okay?” Taylor half-asked/half told Issac.
“Sure, just take me with you.” Issac joked. He really didn’t care for hippie stuff like blacklights and lava lamps, so he very rarely sets foot into a hippie store. That was Taylor’s thing.
Taylor looked at Ike suspiciously so he said, “I’m kidding! Go ahead on over. We’ll be over in a few minutes.” Taylor nodded his agreement. Issac turned towards the lumberyard office.
“Uh, excuse me, we?” Zac questioned. “I don’t think so Ike. I’m goin with Tay.”
“Okay, Zac, whatever.” Issac walked into the office.
Taylor turned to Zac. “Hey, race ya!”
