Roads are clear… there’s nothing out there to give you an excuse to call in and skip work today. Now, while yesterday we awoke to the flash of lightning, today, we awoke to the serendipitous scent of summer rain. I fully expected to look outside and see evidence of precipitation. But, no… dry as a bone. There’s no fog, no rain, no anything. I guess the humidity was responsible for the summer storm aroma.
Alas— as you might guess— this leaves little to report, regarding road conditions. So, today is storytime, kids… grab your mats, get a cookie and a cup of juice, and gather ‘round… for a tale that’ll even make the kids wonder, “WTH?!?”
Many years ago, my family owned a 1970- something station wagon… A giant, eight- passenger Ford Galaxie 500 wagon. It was old (even then), white, and was as ugly as one of those old American station wagons from the 70s…. THAT ugly. It was probably purchased for the purpose of creating “proximity birth control” for any teenage boy who was driving it (and to that end, man, oh, man… it was effective at making me look defective!). It was NOT cool to be seen in… but, given the choice between being stuck driving the car… or stuck at home… I stuck with driving the sex appeal destruction device (‘Cause, see, as a skinny 17- year- old geek with peach fuzz, I’m certain that in anything but THAT car, I would have just oozed sex- appeal…).
However, I came up with a brilliant idea one day. That ol’ wagon had a huge bench seat across the front, and I figured that I could just sort of scoot my butt over to the right, and drive the car while seated on the passenger side! This would be great! People would see the car with no driver… just a passenger… it was probably going to be about the most awesome thing that had ever happened in that one- horse town in Northern California. I wouldn’t just be the cleverest, most innovative guy the town had ever seen, heck… I’d be a hero, a legend… a trailblazer. I had history to make. I was ready to have them erect a bronze statue in my honor.
I was out on an old farm road when I tried it out. I carefully (you know… safety first!) scooted over, and sure enough, I could still operate the pedals, and the steering wheel. I was able to lean up against the passenger door, and even pretend to nap in that position. Man… I don’t get why more people don’t come up with these great ideas. Even with no spectators yet, I was damn sure cool… stunningly suave. I did not just relax that way, either… I totally lounged. The only thing that could have improved that posture would have been a Hugh Heffner- bathrobe and maybe a pipe… but, next time, I’ll know how to dress for success.
I wanted to be good at my craft, so I practiced… this had to look good. Messing THIS stunt up wouldn’t be cool. So, I practiced, practiced, practiced…. And after a solid three or four minutes of this grueling training, I was ready for the spotlight. I turned that car around, and headed back towards town to show off my crazy magic car skills.
The road back towards town had ONE turn… a right angle/ 90 degree turn. I needed to slow for the turn, as 40 MPH wasn’t going to get me around that corner. As I approached the turn, I took my foot off of the gas, and pressed the brake pedal. But, the car wasn’t slowing, so I quickly pressed significantly harder… only to discover that my foot was NOT on the brake pedal. Due to my far- east seating position, I was still pressing the accelerator. Instead of slowing, I inadvertently goosed the throttle, and left the road at about 50 MPH.
The airborne part of the next section of my journey wasn’t so bad… it wasn’t terribly turbulent up there, and visibility was at least a couple of miles, even if there was a little resistance on take- off, provided by the many strands of barbed wire that were being yanked off of fence posts for a few hundred feet in each direction to the left and to the right. But… the anticipation of the landing that was forthcoming sort of took the serenity out of the flight experience. And, land hard I did. Luckily, the field in which touchdown occurred had a soft floor made from a hundred years of bovine poo. I’m not going to SWEAR that the car submerged momentarily, but, it seems in my mind that this was a distinct might- have- happened. But, eventually, all forward momentum was absorbed by the aforementioned poo, and the car glurched to a stop (yes, I made that word up. It’s the only one that fits).
I was buried to my axles… and so was the car. As there was no way in hell that I was going to DRIVE out of that field, a tow truck had to be summoned. And, in that town, when the tow truck is summoned, well, everybody’s got to go out and see what all the fuss is about. The audience that I wanted before? I got ‘em. Yep… tow truck driver, police— they even sent a fire truck— neighbors, farmers… and, duh, all of my high school friends… and I’m pretty sure there were some bonus pretty girls bused in from neighboring towns simply to ensure my permanent loss of dignity. It was tough to come up with a good reason for having parked the car there… the very best of made- up stories had me looking really stupid, as opposed to other scenarios which had me looking STUPENDOUSLY stupid. I just went with really stupid. It was the best I could bargain for.
The car had very little damage, aside from barbed wire scratches pretty much everywhere. The fence repairs and the tow truck bill were paid for by the pilot of the station wagon rocketship. No citations were issued… I’m pretty sure it was because the cop on scene knew that I’d already paid a huge price in regards to my dignity. He wisely deduced that I’d see that as a learning experience, something to teach me to never do something THAT stupid again. But, HA!!!! Joke’s on him! I really got one over on him, because in the years since, I’ve been able to prove him wrong a thousand times!