For nine years I worked a second job at a Mom-n-Pops type convenience store in a rural area, where everyone knows each other. All in all it was a happy and laid-back atmosphere. (except for the time I was robbed at gunpoint...tune in again for that story) In that nine years I got to witness a lot of kids growing up. One of my favorites was Christopher, the friendliest and sweetest little red-headed boy you could ever meet. I guess he was about eight when I first went to work there. He and I got to be good friends.
One evening I was in the back of the store slicing a bunch of deli meat for a customer, when Stacey (Christopher's mother) poked her head around the corner and said, "We just went and got Christopher's car. He's outside and wants you to come and see it." I told her that it was going to take me a little while to finish the meat order. She said that she would just have to wait, because Christopher would be mad if I didn't see his car.
When I finally made my way outside the store, there at the gas pumps, was a sight to behold. Next to a red Dodge Neon (embellished with yellow flames) stood a boy wearing an ear-to-ear grin. The type of grin that, I suspected, couldn't be slapped off from his face. After making a really big deal over his new ride (well, because it was a Dodge Neon...WITH FLAMES!) I felt compelled to give the speech. You know the one....The Teenage Driver Speech. To Christopher it probably sounded something like: Blah, blah, blah....speeding... yak, yak, yak... insurance will go up...blah, yak, blah....kids think they're immortal. I concluded with, "If you wreck this car and kill yourself I will never speak to you again!" Christopher must be about twenty years old now, and I'm thinking that my threat about never speaking to him again made him a very conscientious driver.
For most of us learning to drive and actually getting a car of our own was a very big deal. Remember? My sister (Bonnie) taught me to drive (without our parents consent) when she was seventeen and I was eleven. She had a Ford Falcon which had belonged to our brother-in-law. It was a pretty blue color and had a "three-on-the-tree." Didn't I think I was something!?! Out of all of my friends I was the first to get to drive.
My first car was a '67 Chevelle, which happened to be blue and had a "three-on-the-tree." Once again, I am the bomb! That sweet ride only used three quarts of oil every sixty or seventy miles and it didn't stick in third gear every time. It didn't matter if the gear got stuck, because I was young and quick. In fact, I was so quick that I could (much to the amusement of other motorists) stop at a red light, turn the engine off, stomp down the emergency brake, jump out, yank up the hood, get the transmission out of gear, slam the hood, get back in the car, start the engine and pull the gear shift back down to first, ALL before the light turned green!!! You can ask Lauri, if you don't believe me. Too bad nobody from NASCAR was witness to my speed and agility. I'm sure I would have been offered a pit crew position.
It is no wonder that everyone seeks you out when they leave their lights on and their battery runs dead. I personally would like to witness this act - red lights were much shorter then too - weren't they? I agree 110% - YOU are the BOMB!!!!
ReplyDeleteSo what you are saying is that your car issues are long-standing---arguing with and bribing cars to go is your thing, I see,.
ReplyDeleteWell, we all have to have a thing. My thing with cars is that they always need cleaned out and vacuumed and have hair on the ceiling