I've always late. I've maintained this bad habit for most of my life. "Born late" is my go-to excuse. It's inconsiderate and rude. I get bummed when I have to wait for other people. What a hypocrite. When I was 19 I was running late to get to the family bike shop in the morning. My dad was already there, probably pissed because I was late as usual. We lived on a hill and our driveway was incredibly difficult to navigate in the snow. I had a 1970 Cutlass Supreme--a pretty sweet car, I must say. Anyway, it was a warm winter day so the driveway was super slippery. I couldn't get my car going. Just spinning in the place with the big V8 and rear wheel drive. If I had left on time, my dad could have given me a little push and I would have driven right out. I decided that I could push the car backward out of the rut I had made from spinning my wheels if I could somehow keep the gas pedal engaged with the car in gear. A snow-brush did the trick. I wedged the snowbrush between the gas pedal and the seat, revving the engine just slightly. There was a snowbank behind the car so I planned to push the car backward and if it "got away from me", it would simply come to stop against the snowbank. I neglected to mention that I had a small beagle dog named Luke, similar to the one above, that was with me in the car. So I had the car running, in reverse, with the snowbrush against the gas pedal. I got out, left the door open so I could jump back in, and commenced rocking the car to get it out of the rut. A few good shoves and it broke free. The low-revving engine increased RPMs substantially after the tires quit spinning and broke free. The car lurched backward. The door closed as this all happened, leaving me chasing after my backward-speeding car, Luke the Beagle sitting in the front seat. The snowbank that I thought would stop the car merely served as a ramp and the car launched over it and crashed into the side of the house, breaking the wall. Perfect. Blown away by my own idiocy, I went in the house and called my dad. He was furious, but after driving home to help my dumb ass, he started laughing. So ridiculous. I apologize if you've heard or read this story before, but a series of events tonight reminded me of that morning. Maybe twenty years from now I'll write about how ridiculous tonight was (I didn't crash into the house, at least)....
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2 comments:
you had me in tears at wedging the snowbrush!
Someday I'll tell you of the family riding mower and the quarter pipe.
My 1971 Cutlass Supreme got me in nearly as much trouble as yours did. I was 18 and out of town at the NBL grands. Mom, who didn't drive at the time, got scared about a hurricane that was heading toward the east coast, jumped in my car and drove it to a friend's house down the hill. Storm waters flooded the street my car was parked on, and filled my car to the middle of its door panels. When I came home from the grands, my car was a swampy mess. I sold it a year later for $125--exactly 1/10th what I paid for it in 1978. Thanks for the memories, Scott
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