Train wrecks I've known

My old friend Traci. Sociopathic Traci. Stole-Alice's-Grandmother's-diamond-ring-and-helped-her-look-for-it Traci. Yes, that train wreck.

Traci and Tim were a match made in hell. He was from a long line of ignorant, bigoted white trash fishermen and was as dumb as they came. Oddly, I liked the guy. Traci was the chick who would fuck over her own friends, and then turn on the water works and somehow make you feel guilty for being so angry with her. Even though she'd just fucked you over, could care less, and would do it again in a heartbeat.

So, Tim got "settlement." Notice how many individuals in a certain demographic receive "settlements?" To be fair, I recieved a settlement once. $3125.58 to be exact. Bought my first RX-7. It was nice...silver over black '82 S Coupe, 58k miles, 1 owner, gleamed like new. It was a year after the train wreck I'm about to tell you about occurred. But I digress...in the year nineteen-hundred and eighty-nine, Tim recieved the princely sum of THIRTY (something) THOUSAND DOLLARS. I think that's about 60 grand in today's money. Or something like that.

So, I knew Tim had the money. I wondered what he'd do with it. I'd watched his friends, one by one get settlements. I think they all had the same attorney. A string of broken down cars, mobile homes, boats...and of course the all important "party." Tim wasn't smart enough to buy a broken down car.

I got the call, "come party with us, we're at the Marriott in Long Beach." So I went. I knew what they were up to-they were higher than fuck on cocaine. I arrived and Tim was nowhere in sight. Traci was furiously sewing the bottom of her huge purse.
"What are you doing?" I asked.
"I sewed $17,000 into the lining of my purse."
"What happened to the rest?"
In their bland, overpriced hotel room, she relayed the previous week's events. Tim had blown just about half his money on cocaine, booze, hotel rooms and limos.
"You mean he hasn't bought ANYTHING?" I asked in amazement.
"Just some khaki pants and dress shirts. He doesn't even like khaki pants, but the lady said..."
I guess a woman at the Welfare Division of White Trash Services informed him he'd be a salesman and gave him a shopping list.

Tim never became a salesman. By the end of the next week, the money was gone. I think it was $34,000. Money that could have changed his life...totally wasted, on the stuff white trash dreams are made of. I may sound harsh because I saw this story with people I went to high school over and over. The son he and Traci had was raised in squalor. I showed up for his birth. Like I said, I liked Tim. His family, who were so stupid that they couldn't grasp the concept of a man and a woman being friends, were another story.

Sadly, their love did not endure. I don't know what happened to Tim, but I do know he never rose above where he was. Traci and I parted ways after she'd robbed me and my friends one too many times. I tried to help her, but ultimately...became another casualty of the train wreck. Funny...my 3 grand got me more than the princely sum of more than ten times that...I know Tim regretted that for a long time. This was so difficult to watch. I wanted to rob the money and hide it until they came down. But it wasn't mine to hide. There were others...Janette, Kathy...I could go on. Same story, same ending. Maybe I'm just envious because I never got a big settlement.