Big Iron

Big Iron Part I: Introduction

          Three lifelong friends, Matt, Mae, and Ewan, had bonded over their love of cowboys back when they were in middle school. I mean, everybody loved cowboys when they were young, right? Well for this trio, that infatuation with the Old West had never died down. Well into their twenties now, they weren't able to count how many times they had movie nights where they would just hang out and watch the old classic spaghetti westerns from the 60s. A week ago they had decided to go on a road trip down to Texas. It would be the first time any of them would be outside of their home state. This story starts with Mae, Matt, and Ewan on the road, a few days away from Austin, Texas. 

The ever-radiant sun of the Southern United States was beaming down on the three friends while they were sitting stagnant, baking in the hot leather seats of their well-worn Jeep. "Mae, don't you have a tarp or something? Matt whined. He was lying down in the back seat, fanning his face with a vintage copy of Western Story Magazine. 

"I told you already dude, I've like, never drove this before so I didn't think about getting a tarp or whatever. Maybe I would have if I knew it would shut your dumb ass up." Mae yelled from the driver's seat. 

"God, you don't have to be a dick about it" Matt ribbed back. "Fine, I'll just suffer here in the back seat then..." Matt continued to fan his face, and let out a deep, long sigh in the process.

"Please suffer quieter, if you insist." Mae jested. Matt let out a grumble of annoyance. Mae turned her attention back to focus on the highway. Her shoulders raised and quickly shot back down as she sighed with relief. Ewan, not wanting to participate in the argument between the other two, had been resting his elbow on the car door, holding his head up in his hand. He was absent-mindedly staring out into the vast expanse of the Mojave Desert, spotting a few cacti here and there. He shifted in his seat to address Matt, and in the process unsticking his sweat-soaked jeans and olive green henley from the leather seat of the Jeep. 

"You know, it WAS your idea to take a detour through the fuckin' Mojave. 'Oooh, it'll enhance the EXPERIENCE' you said." Ewan teased. Matt flipped the bird at Ewan without so much as opening his eyes. 

"Alright I've heard enough bickering for one day, don't know about you guys." Mae said. "We still got a long trip ahead of us to the next rest stop. How 'bout we put on some music, eh? I bet my Dad still has some old cassette tapes in the armrest." Mae opens up the center console with one hand while continuing to drive with the other.

"Man, cassette tapes? I haven't used a cassette in like... forever." Ewan mumbled half to himself, and half to the others. Mae continued rifling through her Dad's old cassette tapes until she reached a familiar name. 

"Marty Robbins... wow. Dad really DID love the classics after all." Mae spoke to herself. She took the cassette case out of the console and read the front cover art. It read Gunfighter Ballads and Trail Songs and featured a picture of a man dressed in black unholstering a revolver. "I think this shit's from the 60s." The number caught the attention of Matt, who quickly perked up and demanded Mae to let him see the tape.

"Hold up a sec, lemme see that.

"Here." She handed the tape to him. Matt studied the back for a moment.

"Ah, that's what I thought." He said while reaching over from the backseat, displaying the back of the cassette tape case. He pointed to a small number written on the bottom. Mae glanced at the spot on the tip of Matt's finger, before reverting her attention to the road. "1959." He remarked.

"Christ, that's a relic!" Mae exclaimed, surprised. "I thought cassettes came out in the 60s?" 

"Just because they came out after the album did doesn't mean that it was never released on a cassette." Ewan chimed in.

"I was just asking a question, dick" Mae punched Ewan in the shoulder. Ewan chuckled.

"Just put in it, I'm bored, and hot and sweaty and shit."

"That's what she said" Mae and Ewan resounded in unison. 

"Oh, screw you, just play the song." Matt said with aggravation, while Mae and Ewan gave each other a fist bump.

"As you wish, sir" Mae responded with a terrible attempt at a posh British accent. She popped open the case to the tape, gave it a quick once over, and inserted it into the cassette with a click. The opening guitar chord to Big Iron plays, as the group of friends drive off into the distance through the scorching Mojave heat.