I took the older Secret to the middle school on Saturday, and allowed him to drive my car around the parking lots there. He turned fifteen a few weeks ago and is suddenly interested in driving. Go figure.
But he did really well… surprisingly well. I was braced for a few close calls, and the possibility of my Camry ending up in the fishing pond. But he drove at least as well as many of the shitsacks out on the open road. We took a few corners a little too fast, but other than that… amazingly well-done.
He drove around the main parking lot, took it down a short road to the secondary lot, and even went behind the school where he was required to perform a three-point turnaround. He drove like a semi-pro, and I’m just as surprised as anyone.
I can remember going out with my parents (mostly my mother, because my dad didn’t have the “patience”) and almost crashing into things. One incident, in particular, is burned into my psyche. You know, on account of all the screaming and hysterics that resulted.
Here’s where it happened, at the corner of 17th Street and Fletcher Avenue, in Dunbar. I was making a left turn, and you can see that people park along Fletcher, on the left side of the street.
Well, I turned, and… CONTINUED to turn. I didn’t do a very good job of performing the necessary straightening maneuver, after-the-fact. Cars were parked all along that block, and I came within an ass hair of ripping out the entire driver’s side of a diarrhea-green AMC Matador, or whatever.
And my mom didn’t stop hollering until sometime the next day. Shit. I was already pretty nervous, navigating those narrow streets, and that episode didn’t help to boost my confidence. Thirty years later, I still get sweaty palms thinking about it.
Oh well. At least I didn’t crash the driver’s ed car through a chain link fence, like some girl from my high school did. Wotta classic.
Of course, I wasn’t a very responsible driver, once I finally received my license. In fact, I’m genuinely surprised something terrible didn’t happen. There’s no need to go into all the details… but let’s just say the ladies from MADD would NOT be amused. Wow! Warm 8-packs of Stroh’s… April Wine on cassette… full and absolute dipshittery… How I made it through unscathed is a mystery that will never be solved.
Needless to say, many of my classmates weren’t so lucky, and crashed their cars in spectacular fashion. But it never happened to me, thankfully.
And I’d like to make that the Question of the Day. In the comments section below, please tell us about the memorable car crashes from your high school days. Yours, if applicable, or the crashes of others. I’m interested mostly in the funny ones, when some drunken douche drove his truck into a lake or whatever. But, you can tell us about the tragic stuff too, if you want.
And I’ll be back tomorrow, my friends.
Have a great day!
Now playing in the bunker
Read Crossroads Road on your Kindle!
Post high school but a friend manage to smash through a retaining wall and end up in a drainage canal.
The classic part was when he received a concrete chunk of that wall as a Christmas gift the following December.
I’ve got a co-worker who quietly and politely eats one apple each day, and it never bothered me. After reading Crossroads Road (the main character’s co-worker annoys him by constantly and loudly eating apples) it’s all I can hear. Before, no problem. After I read the book just that first barely-audible crunch makes my skin crawl.
Thanks a lot Jeff.
I was a pretty good driver in HS, so no good stories.
So I’ll just say Hello Everyone!
I never pegged Jeff as an April Wine listener.
Heh – I would have. Probably Jethro Tull too.
How about Red Rider
WB in OH says
What’s wrong with Red Rider? Next you’ll be mocking Golden Earring.
WB in OH says
Really? Have you seen some of the crap he recommends?
I had a 1980-something Grand Prix. Needed a tranny so I put 30 weight oil in it daily. Hit a deer on the highway at 3AM coming home from seeing a band in which I was dating the guitar player. Yes, I was a groupie. Drove around with a fucked up grill and one headlight…until the VERY next day when I rear ended a pickup and buckled my hood. It looked like the letter “V”. I drove around like that for a few days until the body shop could take me.
Eddie Keeling- dead. The sad part wasn’t him dying, but how many people left high school that day to attend his funeral that didn’t even know him, and probably didn’t even attend, since it was an excused absence.
Shortly after high school, young lady I dated, named Suzy, who still attended George Washington High school drove off the winding roads of South Hills and into the forest below. Died instantly.
A guy I knew in high school parked his car (without putting it in park) near a boat ramp at the Kanawha River in Charleston. You guessed it. Rolled immediately into the drink once he got out.
I, also, am amazed that once my drinking and driving career began, that I didn’t eat it on the interstate or the winding backroads, of which I would drive around to get lost on purpose and find my way out of. Sometimes would take an entire case of beer just to find a state route I was familiar with.
I don’t ever remember any of us getting DUI tickets. How is that possible?
I got one after the fact. After the prom. The South Charleston PD pulled me over and decided to give me a break and call me a cab home. I left my car at the Bob Evans parking lot. Once I got home, I decided I didn’t want to leave my car there overnight, since the glove compartment was full of contraband, so I walked back across the Dunbar Toll Bridge in my flourescent lime green tux and began walking though Spring Hill to get back to my car. Same two cops picked me up and took me in. Gave me the DUI ticket then and there and put me in the drunk tank.
But you are correct. I can’t recall any any DUIs (besides mine) during that time. Unless no one was admitting to it.
No good HS crash stories, but I share Jeff’s disbelief that we never killed anyone or ourselves. Back in the day, we were afraid that Keith Richards was going to do ALL the drugs in the world and not leave any for us. So natch, we did all we could anytime we could. No such thing as saving some for tomorrow with Keith lurking around.
Alice in WV says
My signed copy of Crossroads Road arrived in the mail – so happy!!!
I got mine, too! And Jeff indulged me with an outstanding inscription:
To (real name):
Jovis should have called you instead of Smith!
When I read that, my nipples damn near exploded.
Yuck – Stroh’s (“For the Real Beer Lover….Stroh’s…..Tastes like no other….”). The beer flavored with the tears (and/or piss) of a hundred thousand laid-off auto workers.
My crash happened on a rainy day in 87. I was in my final year of high school and I had borrowed my mom’s 86 Hyundai Excel to make it to afternoon classes. It was pouring rain when I hit this (http://maps.google.ca/maps?hl=en&q=southdale+and+wharncliffe,+london,+On&ie=UTF8&hq=&hnear=Wharncliffe+Rd+S+%26+Southdale+Rd+E,+London,+Middlesex+County,+Ontario&gl=ca&ll=42.94082,-81.257503&spn=0.001206,0.00309&t=h&z=19&layer=c&cbll=42.94081,-81.257641&panoid=9w0wdLUwZQFd8gUyGHbEWA&cbp=12,209.59,,0,11.49) corner waaaaaaaay too fast. Ended up stopped on the median with the front left wheel tucked nicely up under the engine, which only cost $6000 to fix ($200 more and they would have written the car off). Needless to say almost 25 years later my mom is still pissed about the whole situation.
The most memorable crashes (not involving me) were by a guy I know named Dave. Dave grew up rich and was endlessly indulged by his parents: No matter what he did, no matter what shit he pulled he was never punished or held accountable in any way. Needless to say he was an obnoxious bastard but he did teach me everything I needed to know about schadenfreude.
On Dave’s 16th birthday his parents bought him a shiny new Trans AM. And since it was his birthday Dave’s parents were apparently were ok with him taking the car for a spin even though he didn’t have a license or insurance and he’d been drinking. Less than an hour after being given the keys Dave was in jail, two of his friends were in the hospital, and the car was destroyed.
A few years later Dave was out with his dad’s Lincoln. After a few drinks he was having some trouble steering and ran over a few curbs and across a few ditches. It never occurred to him to stop and check for damage, instead he drove home on an expressway and parked the car in the driveway for his dad. When dad got up and tried to go to work he had a few problems that were later attributed to a seized engine, likely a result of the oil-pan being ripped off while navigating the aforementioned ditches.
I am shocked, absolutely SHOCKED, that there is a Tim Hortons at that intersection.
It looks to me like there are *TWO* Tim Horton’s within sight of each other. They are about diagonally across the intersection from each other.
You are correct. And there’s at least 5 more within a two minute drive of that intersection.
Awesome! Welcome to Canada, eh.
I was on the yearbook staff my senior year and in charge of the senior section. I solicited comments/quotes from each of my fellow classmates to print about themselves. Terry Brown submitted “Wild with the women and the beer”. Less than a month after graduation but before the yearbook was finalized, Terry drove home drunk from his girlfriend’s house and died in a one-car crash. The yearbook staff met for the last time and put together a memorial page for the guy, for the back of the book. When I pointed out to our faculty adviser what the guy had written about himself (i.e. beer), which we were going to print, the adviser said “Leave it the way it is”. When an uproar ensued 5 months later when the books finally came out, the adviser had already moved on to another school in another state.
Huh. Almost exactly 30 years ago today. He could have had grandkids by now.
Rat Bastard says
“Wild with the women and the beer” is actually a pretty damned good epitaph.
We drove tractors and pickups and whatnot around the farm when we were kids. So I’ve always been a decent driver, never any wrecks.
My cousin Charlie was a total fuckup when it came to driving. For a while there he had the dubious record of never having drove a vehicle that he didn’t wreck. We skipped school one day and he borrowed another guy’s truck to go get beer. Wrecked it.
He drove our greatgrandmother’s car just briefly. He was supposed to meet her by the door of the grocery store, and pick her up. All he was tasked with doing was driving from a parking space, to the front door of the grocery store. He backed into TWO other cars.
He wrecked his own car at the end of a gravel road. The road came to a “T” and he kept going, destroying a guy’s cattle fence and messing up his car.
After destroying his own car, he decided to steal his Dad’s ride during the night so he could go get more beer. Of course, he never made it back. Wrecked the car in a ditch.
The worst one was when we decided to steal our grandfather’s work truck to go to a bar. Our grandfather was asleep, and we were sure we’d be able to make it back fine. Not so. Charlie drove. He smashed the side of the truck into a telephone pole at a titty bar. His genius idea was to park the truck in the driveway and hope that our grandfather didn’t notice that the passanger side was smashed to shit.
Our grandfather found out because someone found the magnetic sign to his company truck laying in a titty bar parking lot. That was a lot of fun, getting my ass beat because of stupid Charlie.
he had the dubious record of never having drove a vehicle that he didn’t wreck.
I actually had a Miata that was wrecked 5 times and I was never driving it.
My mother backed into it twice, so both times I had to replace front clip, hood, both front fenders, both doors.
Two people didn’t see it when whipping into my parking space, so twice again on the rear clip, trunk lid, both back fenders, both doors
One schmuck of a valet who had to back it up 12 fuckin’ feet and managed to take out a Porche 911 in the process, so one door, one front fender and the hood.
That’s 11 doors, 3 hoods, 3 front bumpers, 13 fenders, 3 rear bumpers, 3 trunk lids?
T. Farty McAppleass says
I’ve heard that Smuggles (or is it Snuggles?) the Bear is a shitty driver.
Lee Harvey Ramone says
The Hamburgler was an excellent driver, before he was sent to the gas chamber in McDonald-land Central Prison.
I think I had the PlaySkool version of that when I was a kid.
Jerry in WV says
My first car was a 1977 Mustang Cobra. My Dad bought it for me a week or so after I got my license. I had it for a couple of months when my high school baseball team made it to the state championship. My buddy Lee and I decide to drive to Charleston to watch the game. We were going to drive the turnpike, but it was closed going north because of a major accident. They were more common then because it was a 2 and 3 lane road, instead of 4. Since we couldn’t go that route, we decided to hit route 60. We were near Hawks Nest, where the road goes to 3 lanes and a semi was beside us. He swearved into my lane, I lost control and spun up under the trailer. Cut the top off of my Mustang. Instant convertible. I ducked into the steering wheel and Lee leaned over toward me. We came out on the other side and we both just sat up and looked at each other. Neither of us got a scratch. We we definitely being looked out for by our guardian angels. Not a good night. My Dad was pissed for a day or so and then chilled out about it. I think he was more upset about what could have happened.
That story just gave me the willies, Holy shit!
Jesus H!!! My mouth is just hanging open over that one.
In high school, we used to buy bagfuls of those “Cocktails for Two” but in the bigger bottles. I distinctly remember “Manhattans” and “Harvey Wallbangers” (what a great name for a porn movie). Anyway, my friend Ronnie was driving his inherited 1964 Mercury Comet. Diane and I were passengers. Ronnie kept saying he should pull over and put the chains on the tires, but we kept swilling rot gut as we cruised along.
Next thing we knew, Ronnie hit a patch of black ice sending the car into a Nancy Kerrigan flying spin in which we all caught glimpses of various shit flying by.
After what seemed like an eternity, the car came to a stop and, wiping up spilt Cfor2 dacquiries, we each came up with this conclusion:
Me: I saw a picket fence
Ronnie: I saw a tumbleweed
Diane: I saw my life flash before my eyes.
No damage to that tank of a car but I do remember we scarmbled out of there and put those chains on in record time.
I also remember some kids drovethe driver ed car intot he town pool. It was quite scandalous but my memory of those events are foggy.
I was probably the only kid in my high school who didn’t want to learn how to drive, but my dad insisted I take driver’s ed anyway. After I managed to run over every cone on the driving course the instructor requested I not return. Finally got my license at 24, with no major accidents after almost 40 years of driving. Scrapes and dents don’t count, right?
2 dipshit episodes for me. #1 Once while skipping school i was bet $5 that i couldn’t turn into the school parking lot without touching the steering wheel (brakes pulled to the right badly) ended up hitting a post and crunching front end and busting radiator. #2 after an away basketball game i got off the players bus and walked to same parking lot and didn’t notice they had put the chains up on said post by mistake, By the time i saw it i had hit the chain with my front bumper. The chain popped up in the air like a jump rope and i drove under it as it grazed the roof of my car, very little damage but it did scare the shit out of me!
A guy I knew in highschool had a knack for rear ending city buses. GM fishbowl buses painted Orange and White/Chrome to be specific. If you do a street view on Tyrosines link, you will see the modern version of the same paint scheme eventually (head north on Wharncliffe, you gotta come across one eventually).
I knew a guy in college who fell asleep while driving and ended up drifting under a semi. Plates and screws hold him together. I forget how long he said it took to get him extracted, but it was hours and a ton of rehab.
Root 66 says
“…ripping out the entire driver’s side of a diarrhea-green AMC Matador…”
You would have been doing the world a favor, Jeff. Those were some UGLY cars!
I didn’t have any wrecks in high school, those came later. But I do remember a few kids “trying to beat the train at the crossing.” Yeah, that didn’t work out real well…
Root 66 says
Not necessarily car-related, but some doofus would always manage to off himself almost every year by trying to ride on the OUTSIDE of the elevator of the Eiffel Tower at King’s Island. Kids would go down there for Senior Day and die right before they graduated, which is pretty tragic.
BIll in WV says
Me, Jeff and several others of the class of 1981 were there on senior night that year. Man, I don’t know what the body count was for the original Woodstock, but I’ve never seen so many people OD’d and out of it, than that night. Every two minutes, a golf cart would fly past with a specimen layed out across the back. I buddy of ours who never did anything but drink beer, dropped a hit of acid and cried almost the entire time we were there. I suspect most of the kids were trying to off themselves, due to the feature band of the night being Quarterflash.
Lee Harvey Ramone says
Just the reminder that the band Quarterflash once existed makes me feel suicidal.
T. Farty McAppleass says
Quarterflash? I’m hastily chomping my cyanide pill. I thought I’d save it until Rod Stewart dies, but fuck it. I can’t hang around here no more.
I’ve got pictures of that weekend. I’ll have to dig them out and post them. I’ve bet I’ve got some you you guys!!
Once upon a time there was a race car racer and he drove himself an AMC Pacer it was shaped like a bubble but it drove really fast, the racer couldn’t drive so that Pacer he crashed, got himself a guy with a truck that could tow him still he didn’t think he could fix that motor but the guy he didn’t care he fixed it just the same I guess that’s how engine joe got his name
Another member of the “it’s a wonder I survived” school of teenage driving. My first two cars (a ’62 Comet I paid $45 for and a ’66 Rambler that set me back all of $75) got me through high school without any serious incidents. This in spite of the two bit quarts of Alpine Lager or whatever else was cheap and invariably got consumed while driving around with Black Sabbath or some such at full volume on the 8-track. The ’73 Pinto I bought used with about 5,000 miles on the odometer didn’t fare quite as well. Mid 1975, during the height of my distinguished 4 year military career, on the way back to the post after attending a Hunter Thompson lecture at the Rock’n’Roll expo in downtown Washington D.C. I managed to slide it off the road into first a parked car, then a front yard, through an 8 foot hedge, another front yard, finally coming to rest parked in the trunk of yet another car. Yeah, they couldn’t drug screen us in those days. End result, the first of three lifetime DUI’s. The last being in 1987 at the age of 32, with a BAC of .32. Now my giving up the beer makes a little more sense, no? And I got my signed first edition today. Thank you, Jeff. I know what I’m doing for the next few hours.
Hit two different deer a month apart on the same road. First time sober, second time drunk. The second time, I remember seeing the deer run in front of the car, then seeing trees, turning the wheel, seeing trees on the other side of the road, then somehow coming to a stop with no further damage. Phew!
Another slight accident was when I was skiing at Sugarloaf Mountain in Maine. Met a girl and was giving her a ride home (after a few drinks). She insisted we pick up a hitch hiker, so I did. As we drove down the road, I took a curve a little too fast and we drove into the snowbank on the side. Not too hard, but I couldn’t back out of it. So, we got out and pushed the car out of the bank, not too difficult. As we go to get back into the car, I told the hitch hiker “Let’s go!”, and he said “Never mind, I’ll catch another ride.”. Hahaha, good riddance, I thought, just me and the girl now!
At 18 I thought I had what it takes to drive in Formula One. Like any 18 year old guy. I had an 86 Dodge Omni – but the “GLH turbo” model with shelby turbo 2.2 and fat, low profile tires – all factory options. A grandma car on steroids.
Anyhow, one night, after liberal amounts of wine, I charge down a curvy road, then GF in the passenger seat, and attempt to take a roughly 90 degree turn, in the dark, at around 65-70 mph. Oh, and there’s a bump in the road before the turn, btw………….
Naturally, the car leaves the ground briefly, and when it touches back down, with the front tires turned, it instantly spins off the road…….. to the outside of the turn………. basic physics here, folks, LOL………… There was a roughly 5 foot dropoff into a nice suburban front yard, with a ranch house. And the front yard was one of “those” yards……… full of pink flamingoes, fuckin’ garden gnomes, and other such classy shit.
Anyhow, after completing the task of flat spinning a compact grocery getter down this embankment and mowing down multiple innocent white-trash decorations, while spinning through the well-manicured grass (did I mention it had been raining for a few days?), the care came to a lurching stop in the center of the yard, with no damage whatsoever!
I was comptemplating what to do instantly, and then an obese woman came running out of the front door of the house, in a MU-MU, slippers, and curlers – the whole bit, man, screaming about her lawn.
I guess she scared me, because I threw er’ into first gear and punched the throttle, and tore two ten inch wide trenches across the yard with my front tires, while swerving around decorations, to get to the driveway, and out of there.
That day, any question in my mind about my chances in F1 racing were answered once and for all. Never drove quite so fast on the street, after that little incident.
Rat Bastard says
16 years old. I was driving my Grandfather’s 1979 Ford Fairmont. The car had bald tires, and on that particular night I was on a twisty backroad and it was raining. Going downhill I hydroplaned, hit the ditch on the right side of the road, spun a 3600, blew out the right front passenger tire, and the car ended up on its side, scraping down the hill with sparks flying. My friends and I got out somehow, flipped the car over….and it proceeded to roll the rest of the way down the hill because I didn’t think to put it in Park before we came up with the grand idea of pushing it back onto 4 wheels. We changed the tire and took it to a car wash. It didn’t look *too* bad. Leaving the car wash, I realized that I had cooked the brakes because we used the emergency brake when changing the tire…my Grandfather never used it, so the cable was rusty. When I hit the brake release after our Indy 500 tire change, it did nothing and I drove with the back brakes locked up for about 5 miles. Had to call my Grandfather, and his first words were not “Are you OK?” but instead were “Is the car OK?”
Rat Bastard says
Al, no idea why this got posted as a reply to your tale. However, my uncle had one of those GLH Dodge Omnis. I remember it being pretty quick.
During the summer after high school, the two Class Stoners I knew were both killed in a car crash.
I drove a rented Omni for a weekend. Those things had the classic heavy understeer of FWD cars, but it would transition instantly to evil oversteer. I found this out when I slightly overcooked a highway ramp – before I knew what happened, I was on the shoulder facing the wrong way. No damage, luckily. BTW, I understand that GLH stood for “goes like hell” :^)
One time I hit a deer while driving my friend’s VW Rabbit, with him in the car. He and I and his girlfriend were headed out to Canaan Valley for a weekend of skiing. We had switched off drivers because we were all tired – it was a Friday after work, and by now it was midnight or so. I braked as hard as I dared on that icy back road and tried to aim between the deer (there were 4 or 5 of them arrayed across the road). I think this was on US33 or WV55. Next morning, we examined the car and were all amazed to see that the only damage was a small crack in the turn signal lens.
Yep – “Goes like hell”. And spot on on the handling – from understeer to evil oversteer instantly. It’s biggest asset was power to weight. Handling was, um, better than a regular omni – which ain’t saying much…… It was best suited at dusting camaros and mustangs from traffic light to traffic light. The then GF would drive, just to add to the humiliation factor.
I love how kids today think turbos, low profile tires, and quick four bangers are new, radical shit.
Chuck in Belpre says
Odd isn’t it that the Viper handles the same although it doesn’t turn evil until you do something stupid at much higher speeds. It is another car that wants to kill you.
I drive a miata nowadays – more stick than acceleration. Easy to drive fast, even for hamfisted people who execute many stupid manuvers. Like myself.
And my mom didn’t stop hollering until sometime the next day.
If you don’t remember how I crashed my 1970 Mustang w/302 Boss Engine (twice), I’m not reminding you or anybody else we went to school with. But I will share this one. I was dating a guy for a couple of years and about 6 months or so into our relationship he decided he was going to teach me how to drive a stick. He had a nice Mustang Cobra and I was all excited! He took me down to the driving range at WV State and away I went. Within 2 minuets I took down the fence!! Yes a 6 foot tall fence on the driving range. The End! (Also the end of my trying to learn to drive a stick!
I learned to drive a stick by buying a car 60 miles from home and having to drive it home that night because I traded in my Grand Prix. Now, I love driving them and actually miss it.
BIll in WV says
You drive a standard, ride in an automatic.
Up on a logging road waaaaaaaaaay above the timberline just after spring thaw, because it seemed like a good idea at the time. One lane paved with riprap the size of baseballs, the whole mess held together with mud and the best wishes of the Forest Dept. I was enjoying the scenery for jest a mo when suddenly my passengers side wheel abruptly dropped off the side of the mountain and the frame hit the roadbed. It was all terribly final. The car stalled out. I found myself tilted downward at a somewhat-greater-than 45 degree angle looking at a tiny little river far, far below and a little twirling dot that turned out to be an eagle between me and it. I spent the next three hours building a ramp beneath the offroad tire out of granite flakes, tears and broken fingernails, hammering it into the hillside with the tire iron. Luckily it worked. I still don’t remember those three hours, but the damn ramp is probably still there.
Big Bear in OH says
Early one Monday morning my senior year of HS, woke up with a nasty hangover and remembered I had to drive the neighbor girl and my brother to school, unfortunately forgetting about the telephone pole in the yard. Hit it at about 20 mph going backwards in an 86 Jeep Wagoneer (With the wood panels, yeah.) No damage to anything besides the bumper and my pride. Also ran into a car with a rubber bumper guard while on a date and was too preoccupied with the girl I was trying to bed than with driving…ended up with a leaving the scene of an accident for that one…but the judge let me off on any punishment, as he said that “teenage hormones were at play”. Pretty cool of him, but I still got my ass chewed. My best friend in High School destroyed 3 cars in a week our senior year. Crashed his Dad’s van on Monday, Tuesday destroyed a buddy’s truck with the back the same van, and then Saturday night, hit a curve too fast while running late for a date and totaled his mom’s brand new Honda Accord. We also lost a girl my sophomore year who turned left into an oncoming semi…threw her Cavalier 200 feet and wrapped it around a tree, both occupants survived the initial impact, but she died about a year later of complications. Poor girl never even knew what happened, and didn’t have a chance in that tiny little 2 door, which is why my parents started me in an 86 Suburban, and then moved to the 86 Jeep. Nothing small or light about either of those.
Del Mar High Class of 1980 had the dubious distinction of the highest mortality rate in the school’s history (don’t know if it’s been surpassed since). I think we graduated minus 12. Mostly drunk driving, although I believe at least two were the results of something that occured after the words “Hey you guys, watch this” were heard.
My parents, in their infinite wisdom, bought me a 1970 Cougar with a 350 Windsor in it – it had a hole in the muffler and sounded awesome – and I still managed to make it out of school alive. Wish I could remember how. We used to drive SHITFACED up into the Santa Cruz hills for “keggars” on a regular basis and I’m still alive to tell about it! (Most of the time with Lynyrd Skynyrd’s “That Smell” cranked to the bejesus belt).
I don’t have kids because I couldn’t have raised ME.
Happy Wednesday, Surfers!
Chuck in Belpre says
I think I have mentioned here before about driving through a house following a wine and herb tasting. It was January and the bench seat of my Dodge Dart was frozen stiff. I looked down to put a tape in the 8 track (yes…8 track) and when I looked up I was about 10 feet from the rear of a parked car. I swerved to miss it and hit the gas instead of the brake and slid off the seat into the passenger foot well. Up over the curb…knocked down a small pine and into the brick carport which housed a roadmaster wagon. The impact threw bricks through the windows of the car as well as the house.
I didn’t get a ticket for being totally baked although I deserved one. I got a ticket for failure to control.
Jeez! That was no car accident! That was a scene from a Martin Scorcese film!
Chuck in Belpre says
Yeh it happened across the street from one of my best friends. They took me in the house and fed me extra strong coffee and mints before the cops got there. His mom wasn’t stupid. 1 in the morning on a freezing night and half the neighborhood was out there. Quite a scene.
When I was in High school I rode a 250 Honda to/from, Never seemed to be doing less than 60. Once I was stopped to make a left turn, I was on the extreme left with my turn signal flashine away when I hear screetching brakes behind me, I slowly drfted left hoping the car would pass me in our lane, she stopped right at my left knee! I had to shake the load out after that one.
BIll in WV says
Dodge Darts always give me the willies. Kinda like this ride………
Root 66 says
I don’t know why, but “Duel” is one of my favorite movies. Maybe because no explanantion is ever given for the trucker’s rampage. Kinda gives you the creeps.
Bill in WV says
The douchiness of Dennis Weaver in the film always cracked me up. I would have just stayed in that first roadside cafe and got smashed. Of course, that probably would have made a pretty shitty movie.
Lee Harvey Ramone says
I believe that I am now quite prepared to obtain my box-scores at this time
Chuck in Belpre says
Killebrew got tired of waiting for his box scores.
Alice in WV says
bunker cam – what????