A Legend In His Own Mind - The Twilight Zone
December 16 2009
The following Sunday morning Sam and I climbed the steps of McDonald Baptist Church. Standing on the front porch was Dean Frye grinning like a opossum eating persimmons. “Good morning, Dean,” I said. Why are you grinning so?” I asked.
“Uncle Jack told me about outrunning you last week, “Dean proudly announced. “He has never lost a distance race. You should have known better,” chuckled Dean.
“Yeah, I should have known better,” I sarcastically replied. I giggled even with a grin larger than Dean’s.
“Ask your Uncle Jack again about the trip down Wiregrass,” Sam advised. “I appreciate a good joke. Jack was so fast that he could not get out of Bob’s way! He took his half of the road in the middle!”
While the pastor delivered the Gospel that morning, I reflected back on that faithful encounter with The Legend. How funny it seemed as the image of Sam tightening the seatbelt heads around his waist flashed through my mind. Technically speaking, Jack Jenkins did pass me and I never did pass him on our flight down Wiregrass even though I outran Jack the entire length. I felt like Jack’s time and reign was up. A baby-boomer from the ‘60s had laid a James Dean icon from the ‘50s to rest. Jack did not pass the baton to me on that date in history. In complete contrast, I simply jerked it right out of his hand! I beat Jack, The Legend, at his own game. Still, Jack refused to face reality. However, I decided to let a sleeping dog lie and allow Dean to believe his Uncle Jack was still the undefeated legend. On the day Sam and I made a simple drive down Wiregrass Road to double-date two college girls evolved into the day that Jack Jenkins became a legend in his own mind.
Even today, my mind flashes back to the confrontation with Jack, and I entered The Twilight Zone. You ask, “What is The Twilight Zone?” The Twilight Zone was a science fiction weekly television show that ran for five consecutive seasons in the late ‘50s and early ‘60s. Rod Serling was the creator, screenwriter, and producer of this popular program. He opened every show with a brief introduction of the show plot and a definition of The Twilight Zone. My recollection of Jack and his big Mercury has crossed me over into The Twilight Zone many times. The Twilight Zone is best defined by Rod’s opening monologue in his own words. “There is a fifth dimension beyond that which is known to man. It is a dimension as vast as space and as timeless as infinity. It is the middle between light and shadow, between science and superstition, and it lies between the pits of man’s fears and the summit of his knowledge. This is the dimension of imagination. It is an area we call The Twilight Zone.” Presently, I slip into The Twilight Zone several times each month as my mind rewinds to the day Sam and I ran the Wiregrass Marathon in my Duster. I travel down a Fayetteville city street every night on my way home from work. Two stoplights hang across the street that I must pass under before I turn left at the end of the street. The distance between stoplight one and stoplight two is about four tenths of a mile while the distance between stoplight two and the end of the street is three tenths. One of the two lights will turn red and stop me every night. Sitting still at the stoplight, I enter The Twilight Zone as I glance over and see a ’67 Grand Marquis in the lane beside me. Suddenly, my Wolfpack red F-150 V-8 truck becomes a green Duster 340. The door of reality no longer exists. Come on, baby-boomer, don’t snicker at me. You know what I am talking about. How many times has your mind flashed back in time when you are sitting at a traffic light? That mini-van you are driving suddenly, in your mind, becomes that ’65 Chevelle you drove in high school. Likewise, your mind has transformed the Kia two lanes over into that new ‘69 Mustang Mach I. In your flashback, the Food Lion parking lot you just pulled left was The Hub in Hamlet or Tom & Sarah’s Drive-In in Rockingham. The only explanation for this phenomenon is best described by Rod Serling himself. Rod says, “You unlock this door with the key of imagination. Beyond it is a dimension: a dimension of sound, a dimension of sight, a dimension of mind. You’re moving into a land of shadow and substance, of things and ideas; you’ve just crossed over into The Twilight Zone.” While in The Twilight Zone, I never gave the look to the vehicle beside me nor did he give me the nod. However, I have never lost the Fayetteville street run to the next light in The Twilight Zone. I hit top speeds of forty-two miles per hour in a thirty-five zone. Hopefully, my imagination will never run wild enough for a Fayetteville city policeman to slam the door of reality in my face with a speeding ticket.
A memory is a terrible thing to waste. The memories of a showdown with a legend will linger with me forever. To my knowledge, Jack, Dean, Sam, and I are the only ones who were aware of that fateful day. You ask, “What are Jack’s thoughts after making the Wiregrass Marathon run with me?” I am sure he carried the memories of passing my green Duster that day and God bless his soul, went to his grave with the memory of having never been beaten. Jack died a legend if only in his own mind. You can take the boy out of the hot-rod but you can not take the hot-rod out of the boy. Neither can you take away those precious memories of growing up in Rockingham, North Carolina – a small textile town in the South in the ‘50s & ‘60s.