It was eight that Saturday morning across Arkansas.
Clark drove his Ford pickup east on Interstate 30 at eighty miles per hour.
He got off Interstate 30 and headed north on route 167.
A little while later he pulled off Exit 140 and headed into downtown Little Rock.
He headed a little way into town then pulled into the parking lot of the Super 8 in Little Rock.
Twenty minutes had passed, and Clark had a room for the night.
Clark looked at his watch. "It's too soon," he said then yawned.
He walked over to the bed and set the alarm clock radio. He lay on the bed and closed his eyes for some much-needed sleep.
Noon arrived, and Clark woke up from his morning nap.
He got off the bed and headed into the bathroom to take a shower to freshen up for his adventure.
A little while later, Clark dressed back in his black shirt, black pants and black Fedora hat. He drove his hot rod through the streets Little Rock.
He pulled into the parking lot of a small museum. This was called the Last Stand of Dirk Beaumont Museum.
Clark got out of his Ford and went inside the museum and paid the eight dollar admission fee.
Clark stood in awe at the sight of the museum.
He looked around at the place that was once the Sanders Motel in the 1930s.
This was the actual hotel where famed outlaw Dirk Beaumont was shot and killed by agents of the Bureau of Investigation and Little Rock police officers.
Clark headed over to the original front desk in the main room.
On the top of the desk encased in Plexiglas was the original guest book from that day on April 3, 1940, when Dirk Beaumont signed in as Robert Caldwell.
After Clark stared at the guest book, he went into the room that once was the hotel's dining room. This was now converted into a room with memorabilia of the life and criminal adventures of Dirk Beaumont.
The items included was a picture of his farmhouse in Austin, Texas, mug shots, and lots of known pictures taken while Dirk was on the run with his gang.
He also saw a picture of the Eastham prison farm that housed Dirk.
He saw more pictures of the members of his gang and the love of Dirk's life the beautiful Margret "Marge" Levitt. Most of these pictures were donated from the Beaumont family and were also in that book written by Dudley Cooper.
After Clark checked out all the memorabilia, he headed upstairs to the room where the actual shoot out with law officials occurred.
The entrance to that room was blocked by transparent Plexiglas to prevent tourists from contaminating this historic site. The only visible sights from that day were the bullet holes still scattered in the plaster walls.
While Clark stared at the bullet holes in the walls, the room felt so surreal.
He could actually visualize the sights of the federal agents and cops busting down the room door and the sounds of machine-gun fire that ended the life of Dirk Beaumont.
"The tales he could have told," Clark muttered to himself while he glanced at the room.
Clark walked away and headed down the hallway.
He went back downstairs and looked at the memorabilia again.
He went back upstairs to look at Dirk's death room again.
An hour had passed, and Clark left the museum.
He drove back to his room at the Super 8.
When he got back in his room, Clark unzipped his backpack and removed his Dirk Beaumont book.
He relaxed on his bed then opened to the last chapter of that book. It was the chapter that told the story of Dirk's last day on Earth.
After Clark ate some dinner at the International House of Pancakes (IHOP) next to the Super 8, he drove his hot rod around Little Rock.
A little while later, Clark found an old theater that was showing that The Life and Times of Dirk Beaumont movie. Even though he watched it last night at home, Clark decided to watch it on the big screen.
He went inside, bought a ticket, some popcorn, and Coke.
He was one of the ten other viewers of tonight's showing.
After the movie, Clark headed back to the Super 8 and went inside his room.
He lay in bed and watched the TV.
He was soon asleep.
It was not long before Clark had started a dream.
In Clark's dream, it was 1931 in Texas.
Clark was behind the wheel racing a 1932 Ford Coupe with V8 engine down a country dirt road.
Gunfire was heard from the rear seat of that Ford.
Clark turned around and glanced at the back seat. He saw three thugs in suits wearing Fedora hats firing Thompson sub-machine guns out the shattered rear window.
Clark turned back around and looked out the front windshield. All of a sudden he saw twenty Federal agents blocking the road with Thompson sub-machine guns in hand and ready for a fight.
The agents fired their Thompson's, and that sound sounded so real in Clark's dream.
Back in reality, Clark bolted up from his dream, and that machine gun sound still filled the room. He looked around the room then realized his TV was left on and a movie played where gangsters were having a shootout in 1920s Chicago.
Clark was relieved then got up out of bed.
He walked over and turned off the TV.
He walked back to the bed and went back to sleep.
Sunday morning arrived.
Clark rolled out of bed around nine that morning.
After he shaved and showered, he checked out of his room and headed over to the IHOP for breakfast.
After a bacon and cheese omelet breakfast, three cups of coffee, Clark headed west on Interstate 30.
After ten minutes on the Interstate, Clark passed a red Peterbilt semi-truck with white enclosed trailer driving five miles under the speed limit.
During the entire drive west on Interstate 30, all Clark could think about was his visit at the Dirk Beaumont museum.
A little while later, Clark drove his hot rod into the western area of Dallas.
He drove west down Singleton Boulevard. He pulled over to his right and into the empty lot with a small building that was once the Star Service Station that was owned by Henry Barrow. This was the childhood home of Clyde Barrow.
Clark turned off the engine of his Ford.
He got out and stared at the old former home of Clyde Barrow. He expected to have a déjà vu feeling once he saw the place, but did not. So this again confirmed that he was not Clyde Barrow from a previous life.
He got back in his hot rod and drove off, heading east on Singleton.
Ten minutes later and Clark was headed south on Interstate 35. While he drove down the highway at seventy-five miles per hour, he started to think about that leather notebook he found in Wallace's Cadillac and his notes on time travel.
Later that evening, Clark drove down Hampton Avenue.
He drove by the Thompson house and saw a 2010 Cadillac SRX backed in the driveway.
Then he saw that the lights were on inside the living room and the garage door was opened.
"Someone moving in?" he said while he stopped his car in his driveway.
He pressed his garage door opener, clipped to his sun visor. While his garage door opened, he spotted thirty-two-year-old Kristy Cooper, with long blonde hair and slender body walking out of the garage.
He eyed her while she walked over and opened the rear hatch door of her SRX.
Clark couldn't take his eyes off that beautiful and sexy lady, and he silently prayed she would be his new neighbor.
"Fresh meat," he said while he watched Kristy, who didn't notice Clark staring at her from his hot rod, closed the rear hatch of her SRX then walked inside her garage.
Her garage door closed.
Clark pulled his hot rod into his garage and closed the garage door.
Clark went inside his home with his backpack and thoughts went between the Dirk Beaumont Museum and that sexy woman he wanted as his neighbor.
He went back outside through the front door and headed to the mailbox down by the street.
Clark opened his mailbox, and he eyed his new neighbor's house for a sighting of Kristy. She was not visible.
He reached inside and pulled out his mail that included a large vanilla envelope.
He took his mail back inside his house.
Once he got back inside, he went into the kitchen. He opened up the large envelope and saw that it was the two 1933 ten dollar bills he ordered off eBay. He smiled over the addition of his collection of 1930s coins and currency.
Clark went to his refrigerator, opened it, and grabbed a bottle of Lone Star beer.
He took his two ten-dollar bills and headed off to his den to relax from his weekend adventure.
Monday morning arrived.
Clark drove off to work and eyed the old Thompson house for the sighting of that sexy brunette. Her SRX was gone, and he got disappointed that maybe she was actually the realtor.
He shrugged off thoughts about her while he drove his hot rod down Hampton Avenue.
Clark walked through the service department.
His eyes lit up a bit when he spotted Sandy, who worked behind the counter, taking the customer's payments.
"Hey Sandy," said Clark when he got near her and winked.
Sandy gave him a polite smile and walked away, rolling her eyes. She thought Clark was a creep and prayed every day he would not ask her out again. She sighed a sigh of relief when he didn't ask her out.
She headed off behind the counter.
Clark went inside the service bay, he walked over and unlocked his toolbox.
Roger walked up to him with a shit-eating grin. "Hey, Buddy, how was your weekend?" he asked Clark.
Clark noticed that grin on Roger's face. "Looks like yours was spent under the sheets."
"You bet. Three times," Roger said, and his shit-eating grin grew broader.
"Lucky you. I went to Little Rock to see the Dirk Beaumont museum."
"Man, you know, if you drop all this nineteen-thirties outlaw obsession, you just might get some pussy instead of Rosie Palm and her five sisters," said Roger.
"Yeah, maybe," Clark said then he unlocked his toolbox.
Roger walked away and headed to the other end of the service bay and over to his toolbox.
Clark had a busy day servicing six Cadillacs. After work, he left the service bay and headed over to his hot rod.
He was exhausted and couldn't wait to get home, plop his butt in his lazy boy chair and watch a couple of DVDs. He was also getting tired of hearing Roger brag about his command performances between the sheets all weekend. But in reality, he was extremely jealous of Roger's conquest.
Clark got inside his hot rod and drove out of the parking lot of the dealership.
While Clark drove down Hampton Avenue, he spotted a red Peterbilt semi-truck with a white enclosed trailer parked along the street in front of the old Thompson house. Clark did not have a clue that that was the same Peterbilt he passed on Interstate 30 during his weekend adventure. After the driver made two deliveries in Dallas, he headed to Austin for his final delivery.
When Clark drove past the trailer, he spotted the trucker closing the rear door.
Clark pulled in the driveway. His eyes widened at something at his neighbor's house. "She's beautiful," said Clark while he stopped his hot rod in his driveway and spotted a pristine black 1933 Cadillac Madame X Sedan Cabriolet parked in his neighbor's driveway.
Clark turned off his hot rod and got out of his pickup, keeping an eye on that old Cadillac.
That Peterbilt truck started up and drove off down Hampton Avenue.
Clark walked a little closer in his side yard.
The garage door opened of his neighbor's house.
Seventy-eight year old Dudley Cooper walked out of the garage and headed over to the Cadillac. Dudley had a full head of pure white hair and was tall and lanky. He was once heavier but started to lose weight two years ago.
"She's sure beautiful," Clark called out from his side yard, and his voice caught Dudley's attention.
"Thank you," Dudley replied while he walked over to the front of his Cadillac.
"Mind if I check her out?" called out Clark.
"Be my guest," said Dudley as he spotted Clark's hot rod in his driveway.
When Clark walked over to Dudley's driveway, Dudley noticed his Chamberlain Cadillac shirt. "You work at a Cadillac dealership?"
"Yes, sir. Chamberlain Cadillac in town. I'm Clark Burrows.
One of their mechanics," said Clark when he walked up to Dudley then extended out his hand.
"Dudley Cooper," he said then they shook hands and Clark did not recognize the name.
Clark looked at the front of Dudley's Cadillac. "Nineteen thirty-three Madame X Sedan Cabriolet."
"You sure know your cars."
"Oh yeah, I love antique cars."
Dudley glanced at Clark's Ford hot rod pickup parked in his driveway.
"Nineteen thirty-two Ford pickup."
"You also know your antiques."
"I do love them. They had class, beauty, and were simple. Not like today's fancy cars with computers and all those fancy gadgets." Then Dudley's eyes widened a little when he looked at Clark. "Have we met before? You look familiar all of a sudden."
"Unless you had a Cadillac serviced at Chamberlain here in town."
"No, we just moved here from Memphis. My wife Lynn died three years ago, then my daughter got a teaching job down here in Austin," replied Dudley while he walked over and unlocked the driver's door of his Cadillac. "Please take a peek inside."
Clark salivated at that thought and walked over to the driver's door.
He peeked inside at the pristine interior. "I won't sit inside her and take a chance on getting it dirty," he said while he glanced at the dashboard then at the front seat.
"I appreciate that," and Dudley had this feeling he could trust Clark being around his car.
Clark looked back at Dudley. "Four fifty-two cubic inch engine?"
"Yep," said Dudley, then he closed the driver's door and opened up the one side of the engine compartment.
Clark saw the spotless V-16 engine and started to drool over that sight.
"I'm looking for a mechanic I can trust to help keep her in great running order."
Clark smiled when looking back at Dudley. "I'm your man. I've been working on Caddy's for ten years."
"Good. She really needs a tune-up right now."
"I can work on her after I get some dinner."
"Great. I'll pay you cash at your hourly rate at the dealership if you perform the work in my garage.
I have your needed tools."
"I'll be my pleasure," said Clark, and he extended out his hand. They shook hands to seal the deal.
Clark couldn't wait to get his hands on this beautiful machine. "I'll be back in an hour," he said then rushed off and headed back over to his house.
Dudley walked over and sat down behind the wheel.
He closed his driver's door and started up the engine.
He drove his Cadillac into his garage and closed the door.
An hour had passed.
Clark rushed back over to Dudley's house. He anxiously knocked on the front door.
The door opened, and Dudley appeared. "You ready?"
"Yes, sir."
"Meet me at the garage door," Dudley said then he closed his front door.
Clark walked away and waited by the garage door.
The garage door soon opened.
"You'll find the parts you need in that cabinet," Dudley said while he stood by the front of his Cadillac.
Clark went inside the garage and headed over to the cabinet. He opened it and saw spark plugs, spark plug wires, and other engine parts.
"Tools are in the toolbox. The key's in the ignition," Dudley said then he went back inside his house.
Clark went straight to work on tuning up the V-16 engine.
Thirty minutes had passed, and Clark was installing the last spark plug when that 2010 Cadillac SRX pulled into and parked in the driveway.
Clark's head was buried under the hood of Dudley's Cadillac and didn't notice Kristy while she got out of her SRX.
Kristy walked around and opened the rear hatch of her SRX. She removed two cardboard boxes, fumbled with them while she closed the rear hatch.
She saw Clark working on Dudley's Cadillac. "Excuse me. What are you doing?" she asked when she stopped at the opened garage door.
Clark pulled his head out of from under the Cadillac's hood. He saw Kristy standing in the garage door opening.
"He wanted me to tune up his Cadillac," he said and became instantly smitten by the sight of Kristy.
Kristy fumbled with the two boxes and lost control. They dropped to the driveway. One of the boxes busted opened, and some paperback books fell out.
Clark rushed over to Kristy who bent down to pick up the books. He bent down and picked up one of the paperback books from the driveway.
Clark glanced at Kristy and loved her soft blue eyes then looked away.
He looked back at the paperback book in his hand and saw it was The Life and Times of Dirk Beaumont by Dudley Cooper. He stared at the book for a few seconds then it suddenly dawned on him. "I have a copy of his book. It's one of my favorites," he said while he stared at the cover that had an old black and white picture of Dirk Beaumont in his suit, Fedora hat and Thompson sub-machine gun in hand looking mean.
"My daddy wrote it," said Kristy.
It took a few seconds for it to dawn on Clark. "Your daddy wrote this book?" he said while he looked at the cover again.
"Yes."
"The man inside is your daddy?"
"Yes," Kristy repeated and started to wonder if this grease mechanic was a little daft.
Clark stood up.
"What happened?" asked Dudley walking out of the garage.
"I dropped the boxes, and this guy helped. Did you tell him to tune up the car?"
"Yes, I did. He's our neighbor and is a mechanic at the local Cadillac dealership."
"I'm Clark Burrows."
"Kristy Cooper," she said while she grabbed the two boxes and stood up.
Clark looked at Dudley. "You wrote this book? It's my favorite."
"Yes, I did."
"You did some great research on Dirk Beaumont."
"Actually, it was easy. Dirk Beaumont was my daddy," replied Dudley.