you really had to be there, but...

[DVS]

Have you ever had those experiences that were so special, but also so difficult to explain that you know someone would never be able to understand?

Those times when seemingly unrelated things just clicked to make something work, or someone you met and had a relationship with worked only because you had car trouble or you needed directions?

Have you ever had things happen ONLY because of a strange series of events that put you in a place you would normally never be for this to happen?

So strange were these events that all you can tell someone is "you really had to be there" when you try to explain it?

Well, maybe I'm not even explaining this very well, so I'll just tell you my story and see if you understand any better.

My story is from the early 1970s. Yes, I'm old. I was still in high school. That was a time when CB radios were all the rage, and a lot of my friends had them. I was into electronics from my early years, and that's how I got into that area.

I had a pickup truck with a mobile CB radio in it. If you know anything about such things, they transmit over a frequency to other radios, and can cause a certain amount of interference with other electronic devices, too.

More so, back then, but even today you can still pick up CB transmissions on your TV and FM radio and also one side of cell phone conversations, if the conditions are ideal.

Well, a friend and I were bored one Saturday evening, so we drove to a near by town, to see what, if anything, was happening. We came upon an outdoor concert. A country band was playing some old country standards.

They weren't that special, as they were just a local band, and the audience was mostly comprised of friends and relatives, I'm sure. If you come from a small town, you know the type of situation I speak of.

We parked to the side of the bandstand, so we could see one side of the band and behind the stage. The audience was to our side, and others were in their cars, like we were.

After a short while, I picked up the microphone to my CB and tried to call a friend to let them know where we were. To my surprise, I heard my voice come over the PA system of the band. It was as clear as if I was standing on stage, speaking into one of their microphones.

So, because I had a devious mind, even back then, I quickly thought of different things I could do with this power.

1) I could say nasty things and disrupt the whole concert, but that wasn't really me.

2) Because I am a musician and singer, I could sing the lead vocal, drowning out the one on stage, and sing off key. But, that wasn't really me, either.

3) I have always been able to sing harmony quite well. I can hear the different parts (mainly what's called close harmony, as used in a lot of old country songs), so I could enhance the band's vocals.

I chose #3. They were only singing two-part harmony, so this was an ideal situation. And, because they were singing old country standards, I had no problem with the lyrics or notes.

What followed was something I can't describe. I got down in the seat, so if someone got suspicious, I couldn't be seen, and sang the third harmony part to many songs as the band played.

The audience had no idea what was happening, and the band, although completely confused, said nothing. Sure, they looked at one another, and wondered where the third vocal part was coming from, but other than that, they kept on going. After all, the show must go on, right?

My friend was beside himself, and almost gave me away, he was laughing so hard. The pickup was bouncing and shaking, in his attempts to control himself. He was also making it more difficult for me to keep a straight face, and I sometimes let out a little giggle. But, I'm pretty good at keeping a poker face, and it sure helped me then.

I even said "thank you" after some of the songs, as is often done. I acted as a member of the band, if only as a background singing voice.

I don't mean to toot my own horn, but I'm a fairly skilled singer and did the band proud. But, the best part of this story is how they must have wondered (and might even talk about it to this day) where that third harmony part came from. I would have loved to been a fly on the wall as they packed up to leave that day, and for days after.

It was a priceless experience my friend and I will never forget, and one that you really had to be there to completely understand it all. I'm sure I must have left a lasting impression on the band member's minds that day, too.

So, have you had an experience where you have had strange things happen, or a unique series of events just click together that you can talk about, here?

It doesn't have to be something like mine, but maybe how you met your wife or husband. Maybe you found yourself very close to a tornado while visiting friends in a strange town, or maybe you happened to see an auto accident right in front of you, that you wouldn't have seen, if you hadn't gotten lost.

Come one, folks, open up. Tell us all about it. I'm sure it will be difficult, as mine wasn't easy to explain either. We will all understand you when you tell us, "you really had to be there".

 

[DVS]

Man! This thread is on a quick path to a crash and burn. I guess you REALLY, REALLY had to be there, huh.

 

[WriterDom]

I enjoyed your story.

I just don't have a good comeback.

Back around that same time, McDonalds was a hang out spot for all the teens. They began to run us off. So I had my friend Wayne who has a great voice, good enough to later be a D.J. later, call them up at pretend to be an out of town coach. He asked if they could handle 3 bus loads of football players, cheerleaders, and band members. They said sure what time are you coming?

We showed up that night and they had food piled all over the place. A mountain of french fries. It was pretty funny at the time.

 

[crimsonlace]

Man! This thread is on a quick path to a crash and burn. I guess you REALLY, REALLY had to be there, huh.

If it's on a quick path to crash and burn, it's because it will be hard to top your story. Now that is wild! I would love to have been your friend...I would have been howling. How funny!

 

[graceanne]

Man! This thread is on a quick path to a crash and burn. I guess you REALLY, REALLY had to be there, huh.

I enjoyed your story too. I just can't think of a story like that.

 

[DVS]

I enjoyed your story.

I just don't have a good comeback.

Well, your story was a pretty good comeback, if you ask me. Actually, it reminded me of another time, which also involved pretending to be another person, on the phone.

This was also back in the 1970s or '80s, I'd say around '85, perhaps? I was working in a type of business where the atmosphere was loosely controlled by the boss. A type of assembly line thing, where we all had our jobs to do. But, as long as we kept caught up, we didn't have to be hard at work, all of the time. I have fond memories of that kind of workplace atmosphere, today.

Anyway, there was this blonde...yes, it goes along with the jokes. She was young, just in her early 20s, I'd say. She was intelligent, but still impressionable. You see?

She came back from lunch one day, with the cylinder from a bank drive-thru. She actually brought it inside to show us. She had accidentally driven off with it, and was too embarrassed to take it back, so she just kept on driving.

Once she got back to work, she explained to her co-workers what she'd done, and had hoped she wasn't seen. She had no intentions on taking it back, at that point. Doing so would be even more embarrassing, she thought.

Well, I couldn't pass up the chance. I told one co-worker what I was going to do, so she passed the word along, so everybody could watch. I went over to one of the extension phones, put a towel over the phone receiver (we used towels in the job, explaining why the towel was available), and called the main phone number. I asked for her, and she came to the phone.

I told her I was Mr. James (or some other name that sounded official), the head teller of the bank, and that one of the tellers had seen her drive away with our vacuum tube cylinder. I said we tracked her down from her account information (because she had just made a deposit) and asked if she would please return it. I told her they were very expensive and if she didn't return it, the cost would have to be taken from her account.

She became very embarrassed, turned all shades of red, and started apologizing profusely. She said it had just been a mistake and she would bring it back, immediately!

I..er...Mr. James told her if she would just bring it back and put it in the resting cradle, no questions would be asked, the police wouldn't be involved and no further action would be necessary. She was very relieved, and said she would come right back, and do just as she was told.

Well, she got right into her car, drove back to the bank, and put the cylinder back where it went. Upon her return to work, she wondered why everybody was looking at her and laughing. One of the co-workers told her about the whole thing, she was so relieved that it was all a hoax, she could do nothing but join us all in a good laugh. She thought sure she was going to have the very expensive vacuum tube cylinder taken from her bank account, and maybe even a simple theft charge involving the police on her record.

Actually, I would guess those things are stolen more often than people realize. And, if she had been a little calmer to think rationally, she would have known they wouldn't have her work phone number on record at the bank, to call her. But, being young and impressionable (being blonde not withstanding), she was the perfect target for such a ruse.

Maybe this isn't one of those "you really had to be there" type of things to understand, but it was one of those times when everything just seemed to fall into place to work to perfection. I would imagine it is something she would remember to this day, if mentioned to her. Actually, I bet many of our co-workers would also remember. I know I will always remember.

 

[SkyBluAngelEyes]

DVS...

Those were awesome stories. I had tears from laughing at the second one.

Oooooooh... I needed that.

 

[DVS]

There was another time when my friend and I got together. Yes, the same friend, and the same red pickup are involved in this caper. I don't know what made me want to do this, but I saw it as being so easy, for some reason, I had to do it.

Anyway, here's the story.
The actual beginning of this story is a bit hazy, but it was late spring, in 1970. My junior year of high school was almost over. If you remember that time in your life, you know I couldn't wait for school to end, because I would then be a mighty senior!

As I think I said in my first story, I grew up in a very small town. There were about 2,000 people living there, while I was growing up. Every graduating senior class was rarely over 100. It's a great way to grow up, living in a small town.

The old high school was more in the middle of town. And, the football field was there, too. A new high school had been built on the south side of town, and the old one was torn down. That was a real pity, because it had also been a small college. The building itself was marvelous, with its tall limestone pillars in front, marble floors throughout. It was full of college atmosphere.

All that replaced the old building was grass. It was only used as a parking lot for football games. The football field wasn't moved, and that was the only thing left alone. The speed limit into this football field parking area was 10 miles per hour. There was a circle drive and a speed limit sign at both entrances.

One day, I noticed one of these signs and thought how easy it would be to make a change. The 10 could be changed very easily and rather quickly to 1101. The number 1 is easy to make, too. Just some black spray paint, white to fix any errors and masking tape to help me stay within the lines.

I drove my pickup right up to the telephone pole this sign was on, and my friend stood lookout. I stood up on the bed of the pickup and went to work. The masking tape did most of the work. After the shape was created, some black paint was all that was needed. I didn't even need the white paint, it all went so well.

From start to finish, I think it took maybe ten minutes, at the most, give or take a minute or so. Peeling off the masking tape was special, because it revealed the finished product. You could see blemishes up close, but from the road, it looked very professional, and that's all I needed. We had a finished speed limit sign that said 1101. Success!

Well, we waited for something to happen, but I don't know what I really expected. Maybe the local newspaper to print a story about the phantom sign painter, or something? I also waited for the school yearbook to put a picture in there the next year, but nope.

The sign went untouched for nearly a year, then one day, it was gone. It lasted the whole football season, so a lot of people had to see it. Well, if they look at speed limit signs they had to see it. But, it was not quite a year later, when I noticed it was gone. Another new 10-mile speed limit sign had replaced it. When you think about it, I guess that's about the correct amount of time for any government bureaucracy to make a change, even in a small town.

You might think this is the end of the story, and actually I did too. I felt a bit let down. I thought sure it would have made more impact, in such a small burg. But, it was just something my friend and I could talk about. Nobody else knew about it, and the evidence was gone.

Then, late in my senior year, my family hosted a Japanese boy, for two weeks. It was with a program called "People to People". He took turns staying with several different families in the town, and we took our turn. His name was Hiro Ito. He spoke pretty good English. And, it was a good thing, because I speak no Japanese.

Because he was a guest in the town, we took him to several different official government type places, to show him how things worked. I don't know about him, but I was bored with it. Still, because I was his sponsor, he and I took the tours together.

We went through city hall and met the mayor and things like that. I had to introduce him to several people. But, when we toured the city hall, it was also connected to the city worker's garage. That's where all of the city utility trucks were kept and serviced. Again, not that interesting for me, but I think Hiro liked seeing the big trucks.

Things got interesting when we were taken back into the very back of this garage. That's where they kept street signs. And, there it was, my 1101 speed limit sign. It was like I was seeing an old friend. But, I couldn't say anything about it, because our tour guide was the city manager. And, Hiro didn't understand.

I tried to explain to Hiro, but he just smiled. If you've ever talked to someone who speaks limited English, you know the meaning of that smile. And, when I pointed the sign out, the city manager said, "yes, somebody thought they were being funny."

I finally got my recognition! Yes, it was small, but still sweet. A member of government had seen my work and labeled me (if not in so many words) as the militant sign painter I was. Cool. I wanted so much to ask if I could have it, but I didn't ask. I wish I had.

Well yes, I do think you really had to be there to get the full affect of this one. No out loud laughter and no victim of a prank. Just me and my sign. But, small satisfactions are special.


EDITED to fix a little mistake. I had Hiro coming from a group called "Up With People". Actually, it was "People to People". "Up With People" was a lame singing group of those years.

 

[DVS]

OK, maybe that last story wasn't as exciting as I thought. But, it was good for me.

This story was also my senior year in high school. I see a pattern developing, here. Another friend and I spent many years together playing in different bands. Rock, jazz, country...whatever paid the most money at the time, or gave us the most advantage to furthering our careers in music or with the ladies.

Our high school band director was instrumental in the jazz area. We joined him on several occasions to play jazz standards for local parties. It was very interesting, being high school seniors to see the adults of the town at a drunken party. We got to see the mayor, the high school principal, and the school superintendent, just to mention a few, at their weakest moments. It amazed us how they acted like kids, when they were so powerful in their daytime positions. It was definitely a learning experience.

One day, my friend and I were attempting to learn one of Count Basie's tunes and we needed a recording to help us with a few of the chords. We knew our band director had many of his albums (yes, that's what we had back then...before CDs) so we went to his house to see if we could borrow the one we needed.

Well, it so happened that the album we wanted was still in the plastic wrapping, and the reason for that was Basie himself had autographed it. Yep, the Count himself had autographed the album we wanted to borrow. You can guess the reluctance our teacher had to lend it to us, but after we said we would take care of it, he did.

This was one of those hot and humid summer days and if you know anything about them, human flesh tends to stick to everything. This day was one of those days. When we got home with the album, my friend pretty much freaked out. I didn't know what he was so worried about until he pointed out Count Basie's signature. It was missing the "C" and most of the "O" from the name "Count". His thumb had very successfully removed it. What was missing was actually on his thumb, but in reverse.

Well, we thought we were surely dead. If you knew our band director, he was well known in the area for his temper. If you played a wrong note in class, you could be hit with erasers, chalk, or what happened to be close enough for him to throw at you. But, his temper did drive us to excel in music. Our school had one of, if not the best music programs in the whole state, because of him. Actually, I guess we kind of figured the better we knew the music, the less likely we would be dodging things.

Anyway, we knew we were dead, unless we could figure a way out of this situation. The fuss he had made when we wanted to borrow the album, we knew he would notice the damaged autograph of the great Count. We were both getting sicker at the thought, as time went by.

But, both of us were creative kids and together we were a very good team, in a jam. We knew if there was a way out of that mess, we could figure it out. We decided to see if we could replace the two letters, because they had been written with a magic marker type of pen. The only problem would be matching the width of the original, the color of the black and of course, the writing stroke of the Count, himself. That's where my friend came in. His penmanship was much better than mine was. And, he also had a more steady hand. I thought sure I would only make it worse, and we really didn't need that.

The hardest part then, was matching the color and width of the magic marker. We went to the only store in town that sold different types of black markers (this was back in the '70s, so thank God there weren't many to pick from). To save time, we got one of each, took them home and tried to test each on some plastic wrap. That was difficult, too, because the plastic wrap we had (from my mother's kitchen) was different than the wrap on the album. I thought all clear plastic wraps were the same, but they weren't.

We decided on one marker. None of them matched exactly, but that one worked with two coats. That meant my friend had to match the width and stroke of the Count, twice. But, he had a real steady hand, and that was good. There was no way we could take the album back with the missing letters.

My friend found an album of his mother's that still had the plastic wrap on it. It seemed to be very similar to the plastic on the album in question, so he practiced with that. And, another plus was if he messed up, all he needed to do was put his sweaty thumb on there again, and it would lift right off.

Well, to make a long story short, my friend was successful. He did a very good job, too. I knew where it was fixed, and I couldn't tell. And, as far as we knew, our band director never found out. We never told him, that's for sure.

Unfortunately, I'm the only surviving member of this fiasco. My friend died in '96, and our band director died some time before that. So, it's kind of sad when I tell you you really had to be there on this one. But, every time I hear about Count Basie, I think of this story and smile.

 

[graceanne]

Another cool story!

 

[Vixandra]

Hmm... most of my wilder high school stories involve stealing flags that mark hosuing tracts or road side cones, stopsigns and such nonsense.

I like the painted sign one, LOL.
Don't think we could have gotten away with that in my area. Too many snoopy people.

 

[DVS]

OK, this story was from later in life. Just a little later, though. I had just quit college (not my thing, man), and was working in my hometown. It was a time of my life when I was trying to find myself. I wasn't the only one. There were several of us. We were the hippies of the town. Long hair, blue jeans, T-shirts and boots. Musicians, some of us, but not all of us. The label back then was "freaks".

Anyway, being a small town, everybody knew everybody. And, our town police department was a laugh, for sure. We had one cop who was the night shift. Yes, one cop. I did say it was a small town. He was Officer Cox. He would spend most of the night behind a billboard sign and sleep.

We also had a set of twins on the force. They were only 18, and couldn't even carry a gun. I still don't understand that. Why were they even employed as police, if they couldn't use the equipment?

And, we had our basic bully, too. Officer Worstel was his name. He tried to play it tough, and show how he could push you around. It happened over and over. And, not just to me, but a lot of us. But, this time, it was Jerry, a friend of mine and me. I was driving.

This small town, like other small towns had a strip, or loop. Every summer night, that was the path everybody took. We all drove around and around, hoping to see or be seen. This was also the thing to do, in the daytime, during the summer months, too. And, that's where my story begins.

Jerry and I were driving around town. It was a nice sunny afternoon and we had the tunes going strong. We were just driving around the loop, from one end of town to the other. The community swimming pool (which was the largest in the whole area for several counties, so it was very popular with the chicks) was on this loop. And, being two hunky single guys, Jerry and I had to frequent the pool. I know we passed it frequently, that day. It had a drive that went right past the fence, and we could cruise by slowly, and check out the near nekid hard bods.

Well, on one pass, we turned into the drive and were quickly stopped by good old Officer Worstel. He walked up to me and said "Where ya' two goin'?"

I knew we were in for a time of it, so I just stayed cool and answered his questions. Maybe this time he would just give it up and leave us alone. I told him we were just driving around, like a lot of other people were. Nothing much else to do on a nice summer afternoon, like that.

Well, he didn't want to hear it. He asked if I knew it was against the law to follow fire trucks. Of course, I had no idea what he was talking about, but after a glance up ahead, sure enough, there was a fire truck at the swimming pool. Well, we knew we weren't following the truck, but that was beside the point. In a small town, you are guilty until you can prove otherwise. One simple but sure fire rule to remember.

So, I told the good officer that we had no idea the fire truck was there, because the music was so loud, we didn't hear the siren. And, we were just cruising around, and didn't see the truck, either. Of course, he thought he was on a roll, so he wasn't having none of that. He said something about it being against some city ordinance and he could take us off to jail, if he wanted to.

Well, we went back and forth like this for a while, until he got pissed. He told us both to get out of the car. Keep in mind that this is in broad daylight, and within earshot of other people at the park. We were slowly developing a small audience. Jerry and I got out of the car and I held my door open, in case he wanted to look inside. I asked if he wanted to. He didn't, but he did tell me to open the trunk.

I smiled and asked him if he had a search warrant. Well, of course that steamed him even more. He just told me to shut up and open the damn trunk. I walked back and opened the trunk. It sprung open and he told us to stand back.

We stood there, as he fished around in my trunk for a few seconds. Actually, it was a very clean trunk. All that was there was a spare tire and maybe some small pieces of dried mud that were from a pair of boots I had in there a few days before. There was nothing in there to write home about, for sure. And, that wasn't a good thing for Officer Worstel's case.

He stood up and turned around. I asked him if he found anything in there he liked. He told me to watch my mouth. Actually, I think he pointed his finger at me and told me to watch my mouth. I told him I hadn't said anything wrong. I'd just asked him if he found anything of interest in my trunk. That's when he lost his cool.

He pointed his finger at both of us, and told us to watch our step. He said "This is my town, and don't you fucking forget it." Then, he added a little tag..."now get that piece of shit out of the road (meaning my car, of course).

Jerry and I smiled and looked at each other. Jerry said, "Then, we're free to go, Officer Worstel?"

Worstel looked at Jerry and said, "I'll be around. Just don't forget that."

We both got into the car and drove on. In all of this time, the fire truck had already left the scene. We didn't even see if there was really a fire or not. Damn Worstel!

Of course, this was just one of the times he would bother us. And, he wasn't the only one, but he was the worst. We just kind of rubbed him the wrong way, I guess. Thinking back, it's a wonder he didn't shoot somebody. Maybe he didn't have any bullets?

The moral to this story? I don't know if there is one. But, there is a finish. Last I heard about Officer Worstel was he had been sent to jail for sodomizing a young boy. Yep, our Officer Worstel turned out to be a pedophile. Fancy that. There is justice in the world, sometimes. Well, not for the young boy, but at least that boy was the last.

I don't know if you really had to be there for this to be understood, especially if you grew up in a small town. Small towns are the same, all over, I bet. But, I sure wish I had been there for Officer Worstel's trial. That really would have been cool.

 

[DVS]

I was in my share of bands, back in my day. Not that I'm old or anything, but you tend to stop that kind of thing, when you realize it isn't going anywhere. But, it was a lot of fun, just the same. And, this leads up to another story that fits this thread.

Back in '73 or '74, I was in this band where one other member and I lived in one town, and the rest of the band in another. No, not a very convenient arrangement, and that might have played a role in the band's eventual demise, but I'm getting off topic a bit.

Like I said, another band member, and I lived in one town. We had to get to band practice, so driving or walking was the only way. Walking was out of the question because equipment is heavy and the drive was over 30 miles.

My car was the method of transportation this fateful day, and it was a lovely bright red 1973 Volkswagen Superbeetle. Not to get off the track too much again, I loved that car. I bought it new, and it was a great city car.

It sucked on the hi-way. It really sucked when wind was involved. If you pass a semi in one of those little cars, you had best be holding onto the steering wheel tightly, when you pass the cab.

That's where the most wind force is, and it will push you to the side, rather easily. And, on a two lane road, if a semi passes you going the other way? Hold on tight then, too.

Anyway, we were coming back from practice that one day, and it was after dark. Because I liked to drive the car, I often chose to take the old hi-way instead of the Interstate, because it was less traveled, and had lots of windy curves and hills in it. I got the feeling I was in a Lemans race, kind of. OK, I know it was a Volkswagen! Go with me on this. It's my story. The hills and curves do come into play.

I'm not much of a drinker, but I do drink once in a while. I rarely get drunk, because I'm the type of person who always likes to be in control. Being drunk is too far out of control for me. Actually, I'll always stop drinking before I get to that point.

For some reason, we decided to stop off at a liquor store for some beer. And, not being much of a drinker and kind of stingy with my money, I got what I thought was my money's worth...a six pack of Schlitz Tallboys. I think that was the name. I know it's close. And, if you don't know, Tallboys were nearly twice the size of a regular can of beer.

Oh, I should say the other band member was only 19 at the time, so I was also providing this beverage to him (but, he did put his share of the money in). I made sure of that. Oh, and to clarify, the legal age in my state at that time was 21. I was 22, I think, but that doesn't matter.

What matters is this. We got back on the road and had started driving over that nice winding road when my underage passenger asked me if I wanted a beer. I said "sure" and he opened it for me. Yep, back then the tabs were less than easy to open, if you're of my age. You could actually cut your finger, if you didn't watch yourself. And no, I didn't put my tabs inside the can. I always thought I would swallow it!

So, I had this beer, this larger than normal beer between my legs as I was driving this road. I was so into driving that I didn't ever take a drink out of it. It just sat there, between my damn legs. I drove for several miles like that. Thinking back, I'd guess it was about 10 miles. I was having fun driving, and we were talking about band practice.

Now, remember I said this road was windy and hilly and it was after dark? Well, we came over this one hill, and just after I crested the top, I saw two little red lights at the bottom. There was a small side road, and the closer I got to it, I could tell it was an old Chevy sedan sitting there. Yep, it was just sitting there, in the road. Lights on, but it didn't seem like anybody was home.

I didn't know what to think, or even less of what to do. I had room to go around on the left, but what if they then decided to turn left? I would hit them and it would be my fault. But, if they didn't move pretty soon, I would run right into their ass end, and damn soon at that! But, I thought sure they would see my lights and get out of the way. After all, just sitting in the middle of a hi-way is not a safe place to be.

Well, I second-guessed myself a few times and Murphy's law has always been with me where ever I go. He was with me that night, too. I thought SURE this person would move out of the way, but it didn't happen. I did see this wasn't going to happen soon enough to slow down some, though. But, I rammed right into the back end of that old Chevy.

It was an old '68 Chevy Impala, if I remember correctly. And, the shocks were so bad that the ass end was up in the air. I say this to make a point. The Chevy had a better frame than the beetle did, and because the shocks were bad, it raised the back up above my bumper. So, the back of that Chevy ended up in the trunk of my beetle. Remember now, the trunk of a beetle is in the front. The engine is in the back, so there wasn't much to stop my car from crunching up.

Actually, that's exactly what happened. My car crunched up. Just above my bumper and back for over a foot of my trunk. Oh, I tried to swerve at the last minute, so I did save one headlight from getting smashed out, but other than that, it looked nearly like a flatbed truck going backwards.

We all got out and made sure nobody was hurt. Actually, we didn't hit that hard, but my poor beetle had the losing end of the thing from the beginning. The Chevy's bumper was part of that car's frame, so it was kind of like a battering ram. And, I'm sorry to say there was not a scratch on that damn car. No lights had broken out...nothing! The luck was on their side, and not mine, that night.

Oh, I did say "their", didn't I? Yes, there were two people in that car. You know what they were doing? It was brother and sister. He was teaching her how to drive a stick shift, and she couldn't find first gear. They had no idea anybody was coming up behind them and hadn't even thought of such a possibility.

So, you'd think I have a case for making the whole thing their fault, right? Sure, most of the accidents on the road are blamed on the person in back, because they are suppose to be watching what's in front of them. But, they weren't suppose to be just sitting in the road (a hi-way, no less) without any thought someone might come over a hill and want to get past them.

Yes, I know I would have had a good case in that. But, you might forget the other things that were going on. Remember that full beer that was between my legs? It went all over the windshield, all over me and all over the rest of the inside of that car so it smelled so much like a brewery, it wasn't even funny. Although I had not had even one sip from that beer, there was no way I could get away with that. I was drinking and driving. Even back then, it wasn't a good thing.

And, don't forget the age of my passenger.... 19. So, I was not only drinking and driving, I was also providing an illegal substance to a minor. Yes, Murphy and I are very good friends.

To bring this story to an end, I didn't say much to the other people, because I had no way of calling the police in. They were sorry as hell, but that didn't fix my car. Their car was nearly spotless. The most damage that they received might have been a minor whiplash. But, I never heard from them. My car was derivable, so we just got back in and continued on home. Nothing was really damaged except for one headlight and the trunk area. It was all body damage.

I lived in a small town and things were simpler back then. I forget what I told my insurance agent about the whole thing. Maybe I'm mentally blocking it out. I do know I got the car fixed with insurance, though.

The moral of this story? Drink the damn beer. If I had done that, it wouldn't have gone all over me and the inside of the car. We could have ditched the remaining beer with no problem. It was so dark, you couldn't see anything, other than what our headlights were showing. I would have been able to call the police and taken that route. But, they say whatever doesn't kill you, makes you stronger. Do you think you really had to be there to understand this one?

 

[Blushing Bottom]

Truth is indeed stranger than fiction and if I could master the written language as you do, I'd share a few mysef. Thanks for the thread, I needed the pick-me-up.

Then again if you're ever in my area perhaps I could whisper one or two of them in your ear.

 

[Cleopatra]

She came back from lunch one day, with the cylinder from a bank drive-thru.

I remember my mother doing this, at least a few times.

Nothing was ever said, she'd just return it, and go about her day.

 

[DVS]

OK, I know it's been a long time since I've posted to this thread, but that doesn't mean my life hasn't been strange. It has.

Why, only recently it took a little twist to the strange side, yet again. On Christmas night, I went to my sister's house for our small family (what's left of it) get together. There's just the kids now, and we're all grown up, for the most part.

Anyway, she lives on the other side of the city and I don't frequent over there that much. Suffice it to say I don't see her that much, with phone and email availability.

Anyway, after dinner (lasagna) I was on my way home. It was late, around 11 PM, and the roads were wet and it looked like a frost was on some things, too. It didn't seem that cold to me, but I guess it was cold enough for a frost.

I had only been on the road for about 5 minutes when I remembered I had a couple of presents in the trunk. So, I quickly turned into this large parking lot in order to turn around and go back to my sister's.

The street there is divided and the two directions are separated by close to a block's distance. But, I thought I could go though this parking lot and get to the other side. It was the lot for some kind of school, I think.

I drove straight though the lot, but when I got to the other side, I didn't see anything but a row of trees and a row of dumpsters. I said a few choice words and pulled the car on around behind the school.

I thought I could just make a circle around the building and exit back out on the road I was on...then find a cross street to get to the other side. The damn road doesn't need to be so split up and I don't know why it is. Of course, there must have been a reason.

Well, when I got behind the school, I had to slow down, because the parking lot thinned down to a skinny drive. And, as I continued, the drive sloped up a few feet, so I slowed down even more, but continued on up.

Never being there before, I thought this was kind of strange, but that slope did bring the drive up to the level of the back door to the school, so I thought that made sense.

There was a street light right above me and slightly to the right and it was causing a glare on my windshield. That glare was making it difficult for me to see where I was going.

Now, hindsight is great and because I couldn't see where I was going, I should have stopped. I was in a strange place, and my vision was hindered. Don't you think my sense of self preservation should have kicked in?

Stupid things always have a way of happening. And maybe I was being a little stupid, myself, but I continued on, at about 2 miles an hour. I figured the drive would be sloping back down soon, so it could be back on the same level as the parking lot.

Right about the time I was thinking that, I heard a grinding noise under the car. My first thought was what the hell did I drive over? I hadn't seen anything, but from the sound of it, it was pretty damn big.

But, I didn't have to think that for long, because the car quickly started tilting downward. And, because the downward tilt, the glare on the windshield was gone. Yep, I could see very clearly, that the drive didn't slope down like I thought. In fact, there was no drive at all. I had just driven off of a loading dock.

Obviously, I then knew the grinding noise wasn't something I'd driven over, it was something I'd driven off of. The front tires were no longer touching anything and I was on a quick little sliding dive down to the ground.

I came to a stop and the nose of the car was slightly imbedded in mud and leaves. The car was at a 45-degree angle, and none of the tires were touching anything. The nose of the car was touching and the frame, just in front of the back tires was touching the corner of the dock. Fun times had struck, once again.

Well, after a few more choice words, I knew I had to get out and find a pay phone. I know, I know, I should have a cell phone, but I don't. Never have had one. So, I started out walking. I walked for a while. It seemed like maybe a mile.

It was in the middle of this suburb, but I guess, with the world all having cell phones (everybody except me, that is), pay phones aren't that necessary. But, I did finally find a phone.

I called my sister and she came to the school. We both had a good laugh. What else are you going to do? You can't dance (sorry, a family joke). She has a cell phone and also a 24-hour tow card she pays by the year. This sister is one organized woman. It's scary sometimes.

She said she would dial the number, but I'd have to talk. She's kind of funny that way. She has trouble dealing with things like this. I guess I'm better at it, because I'm kind of use to it.

The number was ringing and then this lady answered. Now, remember back just after 9/11 when all of the computer help lines were going overseas, so the companies could save money? Well, this was one of them. She had such an accent, I couldn't understand a lot of what she was saying.

And, because it was a cell phone, that made things even more interesting. I was asking her to repeat things more times than she wanted to repeat them, and I could tell she was getting testy. But, shit, I could have asked her why she didn't speak better English...but that probably wouldn't have helped my situation a whole lot. There's something you learn, as life goes on. Be nice to people you need help from.

Well, to make this part of the story shorter, we did finally get our phone conversation complete, and she said she would send a tow truck. She said the tow company name, but I couldn't make out what she said. I just told her "thanks."

She said it could be 45 minutes before the truck arrived, but it was actually only about 15 minutes, when he called. He was close by and would be there, shortly. Cool...the plan is coming together.

When he got there, he looked all of 19 or 20 but surely he was older. As you get older, kids look younger. It's another one of those sad facts of life. I was a little concerned about his age, but he was there and that was a plus.

He had one of those flatbed trucks. They don't seem to drive the standard tow trucks any more. Those flatbed things have some pretty cool controls, though, I found out.

He backed up to the car and was going to just scoop the nose up onto the bed of his truck, but the car was just too deep in the mud. So, we needed a plan "B". We found some cinder blocks and some bricks near by and he got the car to lift up just enough that we could slide those blocks under the front tires.

Then, he hooked the chains up to the underside of the car and tried to pull the car forward a little. He eventually wanted to get it on the flatbed, but because the back end was still up on the dock, that was going to be a problem.

During this little ordeal, I decided this kid knew what he was doing. He could run that truck and push my car around and he was doing a pretty good job of it all. I didn't care if he was 19, he was doing OK.

We did a series of putting the emergency brake on to keep the back tires from rolling, and then he would push his truck back up against the dock. Then, we'd pull the car up a little more. It took several times to make it happen, because the angle of the car, the front tires didn't want to roll up onto the bed of the truck.

But, slowly, with angling that truck bed, pushing the car back and then letting it roll forward, we finally got those front tires onto the bed of the truck. But, because the dock was about 3 feet tall and the bed of the truck wasn't as tall, the car wouldn't just roll onto the bed. The back of the car would drop off and hit the dock before it would land on the truck bed. That would damage the muffler and also maybe the gas tank. Time for plan "C"?

Well, he got the truck bed right up to the edge of the dock. Thankfully, there were more cinder blocks lying around and we got enough to make kind of steps for the back tires to roll down.

Once the car was on the cinder blocks, it was only a matter of slowly pulling the car forward until it was on cinder blocks that were sitting on the truck bed. Then, he pulled the truck forward, so the car would clear the edge of the dock.

Then, just running the winch until the car rolled down our little cinder block steps until all four tires were sitting on the truck bed. SUCCESS! That was quite an interesting thing to watch. It took us about 2 hours, but the car come out with nothing but some mud on it.

We looked underneath. All of the vital parts of the car were placed up above the frame and nothing breakable was even close. So, because of that and the mud where I landed, all that little vaulting off that 3-foot dock did was mash some mud up under the nose of the car and mess with my pride a bit.

And, because my sister had this 24-hour tow card, the whole thing was free! Wow, I think my luck might be changing. Well, maybe not. This was Christmas night. I would have rather been home in bed because I had to work the next day.

So, I thanked the 19 year old for a job very well done, my sister signed some papers, and we were all off to our respective homes, once again. I had the farthest to drive, because I had to go back across the city, to my neck of the woods.

During that drive, I went right through downtown. It was about 2:30 in the morning by then, and there weren't that many other people on the road. But, as I came around one curve, I noticed headlights pointing back towards me down the way. The road I was on was a 3-lane highway, and those headlights were getting closer pretty fast. They weren't moving, but I was.

When I got up to the lights, it was an accident. Broken glass all over and one badly mangled car right in the center lane. It had been pushed around and was pointing the wrong way. Its headlights were what I had seen.

I saw at least three cars just slow down and then drive on. None of them even seemed concerned for the people in the wrecked car. Shit, this was Christmas night, and there's no compassion?

I pulled up to the car and the guy got out. I opened my window and asked if he was OK. He didn't speak much English, but through his Spanish, I got a few English words. He seemed to understand me OK, though. I could see, from where the car was and the marks on the road that he had hit the left side barrier rail and spun around. He had been alone in the car.

I asked if he needed me to call somebody. I don't really know why I asked that, because I didn't understand his answer. But, I told him I needed to get my car out of the way and I'd be back to help him.

I pulled about 100 feet down the road until I could park my car on the shoulder. The accident was on a bridge and there were no places to get out of the way. As I was walking back to his car, I saw a fire truck, a police car and a tow truck all coming around that curve. Red lights flashing and sirens blaring.

I walked on up to the accident and a policeman walked up to me. He thought my car had been hit. I told him I had just talked to the man, and he said he had hit the barriers on the side of the road and spun around. There were no other cars involved.

I asked the Spanish speaking guy if he needed me to call anyone, but he said he was OK. I was just about to leave, when I noticed the tow truck. It looked familiar. Yep, there was my 19-year-old kid. I guess it is a small world on Christmas night.

I caught his attention and he smiled and waved. I'd guess we're old friends now. Maybe you really had to be there I don't know. It just seemed to be a strange coincidence to me that he would spend nearly 2 1/2 hours getting my car out of the mud then in what seemed like less than 15 minute time, I was seeing him again, more than 20 miles down the road and on the other side of town.

Sure, it was probably because not many tow trucks were working on Christmas night, but it just struck me as a little strange, in a Twilight Zone kind of way.

 

[Blushing Bottom]

Yep you do have a life full of happenstance.

Perhaps you now see why it is I don't drive...ever!

 

[graceanne]

I personally am just glad that you're ok. *hugs*

That said . . .

BE MORE CAREFUL!

 

[DVS]

I personally am just glad that you're ok. *hugs*

That said . . .

BE MORE CAREFUL!

I was being careful. Shit just happens.

Oh, and to anyone who thinks I spent entirely too long explaining how we got the car back on all fours, you should have been there. I was impressed and I'm not easily impressed. And just how many tow truck drivers out there will take over 2 hours to put a car back on its feet? I guess you really had to be there.

 

[Marquis]

This is good shit, I gotta read more of these when I get a chance.

 

[FurryFury]

You are a great storyteller!

I love that you are!

*blows kiss*

Most of my stories aren't about me because I'm such a good girl you see but I'm thinking . . .

Fury

 

[brioche]

I was being careful. Shit just happens.

Oh, and to anyone who thinks I spent entirely too long explaining how we got the car back on all fours, you should have been there. I was impressed and I'm not easily impressed. And just how many tow truck drivers out there will take over 2 hours to put a car back on its feet? I guess you really had to be there.

See, shit like this is why I have a little card in my wallet with a number on it.
If, at any point in the next five years, I have a flat or need a jump or run out of gas or have a flat tire or need a tow or have an accident, I call the number and the Saturn people make it all better. That's one of the beauties of the extended warranty and service plan. And if it takes more than 8 hours to make my car better I get a free rental. I think it might be 6 hours. I forget.

Before that I had roadside assistance with my cellphone, with the only catch being you had to have the cell with you (even with the battery used up), which was good, but this is better.

All the car geeks are always saying the warranty plan isn't worth it, but it sure was on my dad's car (to me, who hadn't paid for it especially)! Plus, I don't mind paying a little extra monthly right off the top rather than be landed with a bill for hundreds that I can't pay right away. Plus it gives me peace of mind.

But for the record, I do know how to check and top up all fluids recommended, fix and replace broken windshield wipers, and change a tire. I have Lock Nuts on my tires too, so no one can take them. I also have two roadside emergency kits, a summer and a winter one. I got one from my dad and one free for bringing the car in for spring maitenance. But that's just the retentive kind I am.
And my trunk is big. There's room.

 

[DVS]

See, shit like this is why I have a little card in my wallet with a number on it.
If, at any point in the next five years, I have a flat or need a jump or run out of gas or have a flat tire or need a tow or have an accident, I call the number and the Saturn people make it all better. That's one of the beauties of the extended warranty and service plan. And if it takes more than 8 hours to make my car better I get a free rental. I think it might be 6 hours. I forget.

Before that I had roadside assistance with my cellphone, with the only catch being you had to have the cell with you (even with the battery used up), which was good, but this is better.

All the car geeks are always saying the warranty plan isn't worth it, but it sure was on my dad's car (to me, who hadn't paid for it especially)! Plus, I don't mind paying a little extra monthly right off the top rather than be landed with a bill for hundreds that I can't pay right away. Plus it gives me peace of mind.

But for the record, I do know how to check and top up all fluids recommended, fix and replace broken windshield wipers, and change a tire. I have Lock Nuts on my tires too, so no one can take them. I also have two roadside emergency kits, a summer and a winter one. I got one from my dad and one free for bringing the car in for spring maitenance. But that's just the retentive kind I am.
And my trunk is big. There's room.

Show off. You sound like my sister. She's a retired grade school music teacher, by the way. Maybe there's something to this teacher thing. I don't remember any of my teachers ever being unprepared.

But, I do have a story when my high school class pulled a cute little trick on one of our teachers...but that's another story.

 

[brioche]

Show off. You sound like my sister. She's a retired grade school music teacher, by the way. Maybe there's something to this teacher thing. I don't remember any of my teachers ever being unprepared.

But, I do have a story when my high school class pulled a cute little trick on one of our teachers...but that's another story.

Maybe it is a teacher thing, but I know how to do all that because it's happened to me - for example, I flattened a tire, but got home before all the air escaped, so my Dad showed me what to do.

A story! Tell! Tell! Please?

*looks at DVS hopefully*

 

[DVS]

Maybe it is a teacher thing, but I know how to do all that because it's happened to me - for example, I flattened a tire, but got home before all the air escaped, so my Dad showed me what to do.

A story! Tell! Tell! Please?

*looks at DVS hopefully*

It's coming...you can't rush a good story.