One time, I was driving a terrible, terrible rental car-chosen because it was the dirt-cheapest option- on Valentine's day from Boston to Vermont. I had OD in the car as well as a couple of other friends who were bumming a ride. The presence of the four of us probably doubled the weight of the car. I don't think I need to tell you that cheap cheap rental cars don't come with snow tires...they barely come with tires. Anyway, it was snowing seriously and the car's flimsiness was making itself felt. Somewhere in New Hampshire, on a thankfully deserted road, the other three occupants woke up as we gently spun 780 degrees to a stop in the middle of the highway. And what's the smartest thing to do when you're halfway home and clearly in way over your tiny car's head? Straighten out and keep going, of course. And so I did. We saw several more spinouts and ditched cars along the way, but felt a need to press on. Right between exits 13 and 14--about three miles from my parents' house--I had finally taken it too far. In slow motion, the roller skate slid off the edge of the road into a gully. It was so slow and so gentle that I could barely call it an accident--more like a detour. On the other hand, we were totally stuck. We could push it, but not enough to jump back up onto the road. And despite it being about 11 PM, people began stopping to give advice and make me feel very, very stupid. Eventually, there were like three random guys and a state trooper, tsk-tsking at the dumdum college kid who couldn't drive in snow. As I stood there wondering how long it would take me to walk up to the mobil mart and call my dad (this was before cell phones), a pickup truck pulled to a stop next to us. As I braced for another barrage of advice, a large bearded man got out of his truck, pulled out a chain, hitched it to his truck and our car, and pulled us back onto the road, unhitched his chain, got in his truck, and drove off--all without saying a single word. I convinced the state trooper that we were four minutes from home, please just let me go burn quietly in embarrassment there, please, and he let us leave, though he followed us.
And I never, ever told my mother that my terrible driving almost got us all killed and YOU'D BETTER NOT TELL HER EITHER, I MEAN IT.
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1 comment:
I'm definitely going to tell your mom.
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