At that time, I owned two vehicles, one was an all-electric local commuter that I used around the Tillamook, Oregon where I kept a home and then my special play toy: a candy apple red 1968 Shelby GT500 Mustang which is what I drove to Sacramento that memorable day that I met Anise Rollins. Yes, just changing the spark plugs in that 428 CID monster under the hood created challenges for many a mechanic, but what a kick in ass to drive. Most of the time, I flew commercial to various destinations that I had business connections and then rented cars locally but I couldn’t resist running the Mustang, with her customized tuned suspension, through the high speed curves of I-5 from Medford down to Redding on my way to Sacramento. I had a customized light-weight flywheel that was even drilled out so that there was just enough metal to support the starter motor. The high compression pop-up pistons and customized heads caused the RPMs to rapidly decelerate with each shift as guttural growls screamed from the duel exhaust system before roaring up again as the Mustang accelerated. I bought the classic at a customized car show. The original engine had been upgraded to a dynamometer tested 425 bhp. The hood had been modified to fit the new high compression heads and the ram-air to the big 4-barrel Holly carburetor. It was an expensive but primitive beast that lived in my garage most of the time.

As I opened the door for Ann to get in, I took in her look of amazement and gazed at her appreciatively as she guided her gorgeous ass into the custom bucket seat. I got in and gave her a kiss and said “Strap-in tight” and then I eased out of the parking lot trying not to break rubber. The Mustang was “camy” because of the eccentrically high cam lobes and she growled and jerked at low RPM as though she wanted to run for the open road, which is where we were headed. The Mustang galloped as we hit I-5 south and Ann was talkative. She was an intelligent woman, though obviously under educated, but her curiosity led us to chat about a wide variety of subjects often as an offshoot to my answering some question that she had. She was easy to converse with and time went by swiftly as the Mustang ate up the highway. I asked her if she was in a hurry to get to Disneyland and she asked me if I had something else in mind and then I described the Monterrey Bay Aquarium to her. She responded enthusiastically so we took the HWY-152 exit to Monterrey.

We had breakfast before we got out of Sacramento with me having fruit and oatmeal with blueberries while Ann continued her low fiber high fat diet that was going to eventually cause her grief. I knew, however, it was way too soon for me to start the level of counseling that it was going to take to get her on a healthy path. I had my system back to relatively normal but I was not aware that Ann had a BM since the night that I had overheard her expelling her enema. As the Mustang charged Hwy-152 like a warhorse, Ann kept her hand on mine as I shifted the Mustang through her paces. As I slowed down to take in a vista overlook, an actual off-ramp offered itself and I took it to take a rest stop. “Here’s a restroom, honey. Then we can stretch our legs a bit” I said. Ann sighed “Ah, I hope I can go” she said hopefully, as I got out and opened the door for her. She seemed in some distress, but I just smiled and took her in hand as we walked to the facilities. After relieving myself I strode out into the sun and over to a bench then sat at the vista overlook admiring the view. Ann took quite a while and finally emerged as I called to her. As she approached, I could see something was bothering her but I said “Hey baby, have a look at this” and I handed her a pair of binoculars that I retrieved from the trunk while I was waiting for her.

I got behind Ann and put my arms around her, as she peered through the binoculars, and ask her how she was feeling. “I’m kind’a bloated and my lower back is sore” she whined. I asked her if the seat was uncomfortable and she said “No that’s not the problem”. I thought ‘I know what your problem is sweetheart’ but I said “Well let’s get back on the road, we’re about an hour and half away”. As we got going again, Ann suddenly seemed a little distant and contemplative. After a relatively long period of silence other than the Mustang’s subtle thunder, Ann looked over at me a said in a nervously hopeful voice “I’m so happy I met you Jim; I feel we can talk about anything”. I feel the same way, sweetheart, you seem…well…you seem like a soul-mate” I said in a warm sincerity and she beamed back “ya that’s how I feel, like you’re my sole-mate” and she put both hands over my shift hand as I palmed the big Muncie shift lever. She smiled at me hopefully for several moments and took one hand away while leaving one over mine, as she went silent and contemplative again. After another long silence Ann looked up and in another burst of nervous energy blurted “Have you ever had an enema?” ‘well-well, the opening gambit’, I thought. I glanced at her, trying to demure and said “ya?” She instantly inquired “How was it?” I paused and asked “Do you mean what where the circumstances Ann?” “Ya that’s what I mean” she quipped.