Bad News Bob and The Mean Machine

Chapter 29

                     "Boy, that was a close one!" I said aloud after all the excitement had died down.  We were finally on the off ramp of the interstate heading back to the safety of our town.  Maybe now we would be able to go to the police station and clear up this ugly mess.  But what would become of Buster?  The dork was traveling with the jewel thieves that were trying to catch us.  And not only could we identify those two, but now Buster could do the same.  So he was in just as much hot water as we were, and that poor dope didn't have any idea that he was out with the bad guys. 

            Any intelligent person would have figured out that he was on the wrong side by now, but not Buster. Did he actually think we were a gang wanted by the police, and my mother was the ringleader?  He wasn't known for having any common sense and anyone who spent the last three years in sixth grade couldn't be putting his brains (if he had any) to good use. I really didn't like Buster that much, but I couldn't help feeling sorry for him because of the danger he now faced.  Perhaps he had already become another notch on Gus's gun.  I actually began to feel sorry for that jerk.  Everybody knew he only bothered people to get attention.  I guess he just figured any attention, even bad, is better than none.  But Mr. D. always said that Buster should realize that kindness and consideration get attention too - the right kind of attention.

           However, something happened that changed my mind from feeling sorry for Buster and brought it back to feeling sorry for the people in the Mustang.  Right in front of us, about a block away from the exit ramp, and in perfect view of the freeway, were railroad tracks.  And traveling on those tracks, going about as slow as a snail, was one of the longest freight trains I had ever seen. 

            We slowed down and stopped before the blinking lights and crossing gates and watched this never-ending line of boxcars stretch forever in each direction.  Usually, I would enjoy watching a train and counting the cars, but being stopped in plain sight of the traffic on the interstate above us, made my stomach start to churn. 

            The feeling of being safe quickly left, as my eyes played a ping-pong match, bouncing back and forth looking from the train to the interstate.  Back and forth - back and forth, I waited for something to happen...  Back and forth - back and forth, I hoped that the train would end...  Back and forth - back and forth,  until we spotted the convertible...  Back and forth - back and forth, or until they spotted us. 

            My friends were also uneasy.  Kelli started to dig her nails into my arm again, and Bob began to whistle.  I always knew he was nervous when he whistled.  And Mom didn't take her eyes off of the rear view mirror as she chewed nervously on her lip. 

            Once again, the tension started to build and it would only be a matter of minutes before something happened.  It looked as though our old friend "bad news" would be joining us soon... very soon.    

Answer the following questions.

1.  What kind of road was the mustang driving on?

2.  Why did Marty feel sorry for Buster?

3.  What "Bad News" happened after turning off onto the exit ramp?  Why was this bad?

4.  What was the right kind of attention Buster should try to get, according to Mr. D.?

5.  What do you think will happen next?  Why?