***Out In The 1950s Rockabilly Night –With Bill Riley And The Little Green Men's MyGirl Is Red-Hot In Mind

From The Pen Of Frank Jackman

No question Eddie Jackson was vain. No, not about his personal aspect, not at all, for such considerations were beneath the dignity of a newly minted hot-rod king of the night who had just converted his first Hudson no account car into a souped-up dandy that had blown Slim Jacob’s Packard sedan off the “chicken run”road out on Highway 61 on the outskirts of Memphis one sultry summer night a few weeks back. He rated, to the extent that it mattered, that he was only average for looks, a little too thin and wiry for he-man appearances and a funny gait too although he, as was the uniform of the times, decked himself out in the apparel of the hot-rod night white tee- shirt, denim jeans, wide black buckled belt (which doubled as a convenient weapon when unexpected trouble reared its head) and thick engineer boot, buckled as well, topped off by an ever dangling cigarette, a Camel, unfiltered, just barely hanging from the corner of his mouth. He knew, moreover, that his looks did not matter as long as he was the walking daddy of the hot-rod night for the girls would practically take of their underpants, and maybe more, just for the chance to sit in that Hudson front with him. And he had the scratches on his back to prove that statement.

No Eddie was vain about the appearance of his girlfriend of the time (not to be confused with that horde one or more who might have produced those scratches on Eddie’s back). The one who sat next to him at Jimmy Jack’s Shack, the local drive-in restaurant where he hung out waiting for the night to develop and, more importantly, the one who would ride with him down that lonely stretch of Highway 61 heading south on a “chicken run” when some goof who hadn’t heard he was the king of the walking daddy night and ill-advisedly threw down some god forsaken challenge. His last girl, Wanda, no question and all around agreed even some of the married guys, or maybe especially the married guys, was a fox, all slinky, all curvy and full of bumps in the right places, in her Capris and cashmere sweater, long and blonde (real or not he did not ask, no guy did and just assumed not in those Marilyn-etched years). But she had moved away to Chi town and the big lights and he had been left alone.

Alone except for those sweaty women ready to take off undergarments just to ride with him. And that is where his problem came in. He got interested in one of them, Sheila (although she had not, strictly speaking, been one of the offerees but had been standing outside Jimmy Jack’s Shack eying his vehicle and had badgered him into letting her take a ride with him), who he had figured for nothing but a one night stand, maybe two and then flee. She was funny and made him laugh and told him some stuff about the old days and that (old Pharaoh times and Babylonians and Cretans and stuff which she found interesting and that made him think she was screwy at first but which kind of grew on him although don’t tell her that, either about the screwy or kind of grew on him part). See she was a senior in high school who was going to college at Memphis State in the fall and while she had been just as clawing as any not going to college girl looking to ride with Eddie she was different and he liked that, liked that a lot. Plus she had a few things, a few hot sexual things, different, that she had read about, read about in a book called the Kama Sutra whatever that was, that she would do for him when they were over at Lookout Peak, the local lovers’ lane.

(Sheila had made him laugh once when they had done one of the positions illustrated in the book in the backseat and afterward she said that if he was still pining for Wanda she, all bumps and curves, would not have been able to do what they had just done so chalk one up for skinny no breast girls. She also said don’t be fooled by smart girls like her and girls from good homes too who liked sex just as much, maybe more, that those hot Wanda girls, except they kept it under the sheets and didn’t spread it around town. And he had to privately agree, having had to endure many a Wanda headache night, or not into it night, or it hurts too much night. Still Wanda was a fox and looked good, real good in that front seat and that meant a lot.)

What Sheila was not though was beautiful, foxy, hot, and certainly not red hot. And that bothered him, or rather it bothered him that the guys over at Jimmy Jack’s Shack would make a point out of teasing him about her, about his plain jane girlfriend when their honeys were almost uniformly hot, and where Wanda’s essence was still felt around the joint. Yah, it bothered him, bothered him that even a king of the hot-rod night needed to keep up appearances, needed to have fox in that front seat when the deal went down. Bothered him that he was going to have to ditch Sheila sometime despite the fact that she made him laugh, and read all that stuff that got him hot. See, yah, he was starting to figure that she was red-hot in her own way whatever the guys said. Just then he thought maybe she would ditch him come fall when she went off to college and found some joe really interested in Pharaoh times and stuff like that and that would be the end of it. Till then he figured she could ride with him, ride with him just fine…