Troy and I, both ridiculously competitive, were kind of, sort of, in a way, racing from the church to his house before we got married. His car was in front of mine so there was no way that I could beat him. Unless. And at that moment the brilliant idea popped into my head that if I raced across the dirt lot behind the AM/PM station, and drove out through the exit there, I could cut him off. I quickly swerved my car and floored it through the dirt. Unfortunately, I was not actually aware that the lot was about two feet higher than the station on the other side. I off roaded through pot holes and weeds and then, eventually, off of a small retaining wall and into the AM/PM. When that short little Honda hit the ground on the other side, let me just tell you that was one joint crushing blow I dealt to my own self. Not to mention what happened to that poor car. As I drove to Troy's house I heard this sickening scraping sound. I parked out in front and peered under the vehicle. An entire panel thingy was just hanging down. I started crying to Troy (who had still beat me there) about how my dad was going to kill me. He managed to get it to stay in position long enough for me to drive home.
Me: Hey dad, can you come out here for a second?
Dad: What?
Me: Well, what exactly is this panel thing and is it important? Because it's sort of broken.
Dad: Did that happen when you were off roading behind the AM/PM?
And in this moment I honestly considered lying for the briefest of moments before realizing that, obviously, he had seen what had happened. The moral of this story is to check your rearview mirror for the car carrying your parents and your brother before driving your car through potholes and slamming it over a retaining wall.
Oh the memories of that car. Sigh. Here are some pictures from the funeral.
Farewell kiss. (You can see the top of our kiddo's head in the driver's seat. He LOVED to pretend to drive that car.) The license plate is gone because I refused to leave the parking lot without it.
It's even funnier when you put it in print. I remember your dad being horrified, me being stunned and your brother laughing hysterically as we watched your poor little car turn into nothing but a cloud of dust as you tore through that vacant lot. Then when you came home and dad called you out on it, even though you were 21 years old, you still looked like the teenager who got caught lying about something. Good times!
ReplyDeleteI'm glad you got the license plate. You can hang it up in your garage.
If retiring a car does this to you, what are you going to do on Garrett's first day of kindergarten? J
ReplyDelete