Have I ever told you the story about the time my First Sgt and I got stuck downtown Baghdad with no weapons or radios and no one knew where we were? It all began one day when..... Oh wait, this is a family forum.
Well, then there was the time... mmmmm family forum....
Ok, here's a car story I wrote several years back for a woodworking forum I go to. It's family safe.
In the story I have to explain a few things to the readers because they have no knowledge of antique cars to speak of.
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This mornin I went to do my laundry when I discovered I was all out of laundry soap. No big deal. It's a beautiful day out. I was wantin a cold drink anyhow. This is just the excuse I needed to take the old car for a drive. :vcca:
So there I am headed for the Winn-Dixie with my 32 oz. coke in a styrofoam cup sitting in the corner. There are no cup holders in a 1926 Chevy, never were. I can see the store about a mile away. I reach over and grab the cup, fixin to get me a drink, when for no reason known to God or man that danged ol cup squished and coke and ice went everywhere. Primarily, of course, in the crotch of my pants.
Now there I am, drivin down a four lane road in an 80 year old car with people pullin up beside me to wave and give me the thumbs up, a hollerin at me and askin what model F*** it is,
not meanin no harm, just generally givin me cause to be concerned and extra alert, all the while I have the better part of 32 oz of coke in my lap, soakin in, real good. :eek:
I ain't exactly in the mood for bein friendly at this point, if you know what I mean. Can't let go of the steerin wheel. Can't let go of the cup. Can't wave and I ain't in no smilin mood. I don't care how good and straight it goes down the road you just don't ever let go of the wheel of an 80 year old car. You just don't. Ever. Period. Which is what it looked like I had. Unprepared. And alot. :o
Dontcha know by the time I got that cup and 1 oz of coke that was left in it situated my pants were just drippin wet. But only in the crotch. Of course.
So what am I sposed to do now, turn around and drive the 10 miles home just to change my pants so I can remake the 20 mile round trip just to get some laundry soap that I am now so desperately in need of? If I go in that store lookin like I peed my pants it ain't like I can hide afterwards, I mean, just how many other short, fat, long haired, old men drive a bright yellow 1926 Chevy roadster? Might as well put my picture, wet pants and all, on a billboard, or the tv, or the world wide web, or the Pearly Gates, or somethin.
By now of course, I'm at the Winn-Dixie, which required a lot of turnin and down shiftin and watchin for those pedestrian folks, just to get into the parkin lot and find me a decent place to hide and cuss. I mean park.
Ever try to down shift an 80 year old car? They don't have no synchronizer thingys in them that make shiftin alot easier. You have to double clutch them things and rev the engine a little bit and pray you don't grind no gears away cause you ain't buyin no more of them if you do. Now, you try to do all that while you have 32 oz. of coke and ice soakin into your pants, right above your private parts and startin to drip on them too. :cry:
Finally, and I mean it felt like it took forever, finally I get parked. Of course I park a bit away from everyone else, something I would have done anyhow, or so I told myself. What I don't need now is a bunch of spectators who wanna ask me what model F*** it is.
I no sooner get out, and hadn't brushed my lap but one time when a woman walks over. Just to be friendly of course and ask about the car.
"Oh my! What happened to you?" she asked upon seeing me. I told her and she laughed, of course.
"It sure does look incriminating. Are you goin in the store lookin like that?" she asked. "No way, Ma'am. I can't do it. Not lookin like this." I replied. Then she asked, "Do you have any coke left?" "A little" I replied. "Let me have it." she requested. Having no idea why she wanted what was left of the coke I gave it to her.
She then lifted the bottom of my T-shirt and poured what was left on it, from the center down. "Problem solved. Now it looks more like you spilled a drink then peed on yourself. By the way, what model F*** is this?"