American Graffiti Page #4

CURT:

I'm telling you, this was the most perfect, dazzling creature

I've ever seen.

STEVE:

She's gone. Forget it.

CURT:

She spoke to me. She spoke to me, right through the window. I

think she said, "I love you."

Curt looks at his sister and Steve in the front seat. They are

bored by his romantic visions.

CURT:

That means nothing to you people? You have no romance, no soul?

She--someone wants me. Someone roaming the streets wants me! Will

you turn the corner?

Laurie looks around at him and seems to pity his flights of

poetic fantasy. Curt sits back and shakes his head.

PARKING LOT:

Big John sits in his deuce coupe, backed into the parking lot of

the Acme Fall-out Shelter Co., the prime spot in town for girl

watching. A guy in wrap-around dark glasses leans by the car next

to John. They watch a group of laughing girls cruise by in a

Studebaker.

JOHN:

Oh, oh. Later.

GUY:

Alligator.

John turns on his lights and swings the deuce coupe out into the

flow of traffic, after the Studebaker. John accelerates and pulls

alongside the Studebaker. The girl in the front seat rolls down

her window. John grins and yells over at the carload of cuties.

JOHN:

Hey, you're new around here. Where're you from?

FIRST GIRL:

Turlock.

JOHN:

Turlock? You know a guy named Frank Bartlett?

FIRST GIRL:

No. Does he go to Turlock High?

JOHN:

Well, he used to. He goes to J.C. now.

FIRST GIRL:

Do you go to J.C.?

JOHN:

Yeah, sure.

FIRST GIRL:

Oh, wow! Do you know Guy Phillips?

JOHN:

Yeah, sure. I got him in a class.

FIRST GIRL:

He's so boss.

JOHN:

How would you like to ride around with me for awhile?

FIRST GIRL:

I'm sorry, I can't. I'm going steady.

JOHN:

Ah, come on!

FIRST GIRL:

I just can't.

JOHN:

You're just ridin' around with a bunch of girls. Hey, how about

somebody else in there? Anybody else want to go for a ride?

The girls chatter and giggle among themselves. One of the girls

dangles a bra out the back window, and they all break into

hysterical laughter. The girls try to accelerate ahead, but John

stays alongside their car.

JOHN:

Aw, come on...I got plenty of room. It's dangerous to have that

many people in a car. Cops see ya, you're had. You got nothing to

fear, I'm as harmless as a baby kitten.

A small voice rises above the chatter.

CAROL:

I'll go. I'll go.

FIRST GIRL:

Judy's sister wants to ride with you. Is that all right?

JOHN (grinning)

Yeah, sure, Judy--her sister--her mother--anybody. I'll take 'em

all. Listen, we'll go up and stop at that light. It'll turn red

by the time we get there. All right?

The first girl grins and nods. John winks at her.

JOHN:

You ever get tired of going steady with somebody that ain't

around--I'm up for grabs.

The cars stop at the light. A girl rushes out from the Studey and

runs around the back of John's coupe. She opens the door and

climbs in fast as the light changes.

The Studebaker pulls off fast. John pushes through the gears and

turns and smiles at his pick-up, as "That'll Be the Day" plays on

the Wolfman Jack Show. JOHN

So, you're Judy's little sister.

Carol Morrison shakes her head. She is thirteen years old, very

cute--wearing blue jeans, sneakers and a "Dewey Webber Surf

Board" T-shirt which hangs to her knees. John seems slightly

panicked.

JOHN:

Ah, sh*t,--how old are you?

CAROL:

Old enough. How old are you?

JOHN:

I'm too old for you.

CAROL:

You can't be that old.

JOHN:

Listen, listen. I think you better go back and sit with your

sister. Hey, ah...where are they, anyway? They comin' back or

somethin'? This is a joke, right? This better be a joke, 'cause

I'm not drivin' you around.

CAROL:

But you asked me. What's the matter? Am I too ugly? (on the verge

of tears) Judy doesn't want me with her and now you don't want me

with you. Nobody wants me...even my mother and father hate me.

Everybody hates me.

JOHN:

No they don't. I mean, I don't know, maybe they do. But I don't.

It's just that you're a little young for me.

CAROL:

I am not! If you throw me out I'll scream.

JOHN:

OK, OK, just stay cool. There's no need to scream. We'll think of

something. (He looks at her as she wipes her eyes.) It shouldn't

take too long to find your sister again.

Suddenly, a car horn honks next to them. John looks over at the

car.

VOICE (off)

Hey John--you gonna be there tonight?

JOHN:

Oh, sh*t! Hey, get down!

John grabs Carol by the neck and pushes her head down onto his

lap so she can't be seen. John casually waves to the friend in

the car cruising alongside.

Hey, cool...

Carol's head is being held down on his lap. She looks up at him.

CAROL:

Hey, is this what they call copping a feel?

John jumps, and immediately lets go of her as if burned.

JOHN:

NO! Uh uh. N-O. Don't even say that. Jesus...

John is beginning to sweat now.

CAROL:

What's your name?

JOHN:

Mud, if anybody sees you.

CRUISING G STREET-STEVE'S '58 CHEVY

Terry continues to cruise the main drag, slouched low and looking

cool in his newly acquired machine. He adjusts his waterfall curl

as the Wolfman dedicates a list of songs. He passes a group of

guys bullshitting around the raised hood of a souped-up parked

car.

Terry cruises alongside two girls in a Ford. He revs the engine

to get their attention and once he has it he motions to roll down

their window. They flip him the bird instead and he lets them

pass.

Terry pulls up to a stop light. The car next to him is a '56

Ford--a good opponent and besides, the kid driving looks younger

than Terry.

TERRY:

What you got in there, kid?

KID:

More than you can handle.

Terry revs his engine. So does the Ford. The tension mounts. The

green arrow for the left turn lane flashes on, the car on Terry's

other side moves off, and before he can control his reflexes,

Terry, too, has shot into the intersection while the light

remains red! Terry quickly shifts and returns to the starting

position. The other driver is grinning. Terry is flustered and

embarrassed. Terry revs the Chevy a couple more times,

concentration intently this time on the right light.

Green!...The Ford bolts into the intersection. Terry likewise

floors the gas pedal and goes crashing backwards into a large

Buick. Terry is stunned for a moment, then realizes he forgot to

shift into first. He fumbles to get the car into frist gear.

A distinguished looking man comes up to his window after

inspecting the damage. Terry tries to escape, but in his panic

the engine dies. He struggles to start it.

OLDER MAN:

Excuse me, but I think we've had an accident.

TERRY:

Well, goddamnit, I won't report you this time, but next time just

watch it, will ya?

Terry roars off in a cloud of indignant smoke, leaving the

gentleman standing in the street looking dismayed. The cars

behind him begin to honk their horns and shout crudities.

USED CAR LOT:

Terry pulls up in front of a used car lot and jumps out to

inspect the damage to Steve's Chevy. He rubs a small scratch on

the back fender, but it won't disappear. As he spits on it, a

slick, baggy-suited car salesman ambles up.

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