Oops! You Forgot One!

28 01 2009

Michelle…a dear friend from high school (and actually, if memory serves, my date for the Snowball Dance senior year) left this very lengthy comment on my post regarding the numerous car accidents I’ve had over the years. Since no one took me up on my offer to guest blog, and since this is one of the stories I said merited it’s own entry anyway, I scooped up her comment and turned it into a guest  blog. (I hope she will forgive me) While I’d like to clarify a few points after her, our memories of the events of 13 years ago are amazingly similar. (THIRTEEN YEARS, Michelle! Can you believe we are this damned old??)


“Do you recall the first night J got the Mazda Protege….?

Well, let me recap… After a very elegant midnight dinner at the Waffle House (not the Pancake House) The Villager and J had to drive me back to my parents house. The Villager loves a new classy car even if it isn’t a convertible, so into the drivers seat he goes.

Now typically the Villager would take the northbound exit off of Interstate 64/77 which is an easy gliding exit where you can hit the gas even harder as you exit and get a head rush coming down the hill. However, the southbound exit ramp is the polar opposite. As soon as you exit at 70 mph you must enter a hairpin turn that is a suggested “25 MPH”. We exit the interstate, radio full volume blasting “Ini Kamoze, Here comes the Hotstepper.”

The Villager hits the gas not realizing in his delirious “driving a new car daze” that he just took the hairpin exit. Suddenly his mistake is staring him in the face in baby poop yellow, “25 MPH.” Nothing about his reaction suggested we were going to survive without rocket launching the car over the edge and into the ravine on the other side of that yellow sign. Everything around us had been hurled into a slo-mo reality where events were similar to a 60rpm record on a 45rpm spin.

His body actually curled into a ball in the drivers seat! Elbows in at the chest, hands fanned out beside his head, and a loud, very southern flaming cry of “HELLLLP ME!, HELLLP ME!” came out of his mouth as he turned to the back seat to look me dead in the eye. At this point knowing I was probably going to die, I didn’t care. The Villager’s reaction to the realization of his mistake was priceless. I laughed hysterically. I could not help myself. I have no idea what J was doing since I was paralyzed with laughter.

The hysteria the Villager saw in my eyes must have broken his state of terror. He immediately jack knifed in the seat and placed both feet on the brake. The car began squealing like a baby pig. Not a single hand was on the wheel. He was still crying for help and I was laughing. The car skidded through the gravel at the side of the ramp and up over a pole reflector before it finally came to a halt. Radio still blaring our favorite tune and yes, the Villager was still hollerin’ for help. I had tears running down my face, was not breathing, and devoid of muscle control as I laid limp again the passenger seat trying to gain control. Finally, the Villager turned the radio off and was quaking in his seat knowing that once again he had wrecked yet another vehicle.

I gained some form of control and was able to peek into the passenger seat to see J’s facial expression after her “brand spankin’ new that day car” had just been wrecked. She was white as a ghost and looked to be in a state of shock with her mouth open and staring at the Villager. Before I could help myself I let out another peel of psycho giggling. Amazingly J began laughing too. I didn’t know if it was a stress reaction or if she couldn’t hold it in after hearing my uncontrollable cackle. Upon further inspection the car didn’t fare too bad. Only a couple of hundred dollar damages. Anyway, just didn’t want ya to think the Villager is as innocent in the drivers seat as he makes it seem. lol!! He is actually hell on wheels!!!!!”

Yes, Michelle is right. On a cold Christmas night back in high school, I wrecked a friend’s car. On the very day her parent’s surprised her with it. It was 12 hours old. The plastic was still on the floor. No one had even bothered putting the keys onto a real key ring.

And while I don’t recall screaming “Helllllllp meeeee!” and am absolutely certain that if I did, it would be neither southern nor flaming, Michelle’s account is almost an instant replay. Though I think I hit three small reflectors and one big arrow. (didn’t I?)

But here is where Michelle leaves off. J did not want her parents to know what had happened! She and I took the car to the dealership and were assured that it could be repaired in ONE DAY if we got it in early in the morning. But they couldn’t take it for A WEEK! Now, by some miracle, the only damage was about a six inch gash in the front bumper. But J spent the better part of that week finding things to do in the evening so she wouldn’t have to get the scarred car home in the daylight. Now, my memory gets a little fuzzy here, but best as I can recall…we put the car in the shop, and while it was there J scheduled the dealer to do the installation of the CD player (it was a dealer installed accessory in those days, and the dealer hadnt been able to put it in before Christmas). At the end of day one in the shop, the car wasn’t ready. Turns out it was a brand new color of paint for that model year, and they didn’t have it yet. Now at this point, I can not recall if J broke down and told her dad about the mangled bumper, or if the dealership somehow let it slip, but he found out. (it may well have been that he called wondering why it was taking a week to install a CD player) But she told him SHE had been driving. Only I didn’t find know she told him…so imagine my shock when J’s dad is thanking me for being such a good friend and insisting I take back the $300 I’d “given” her. (naturally, I had paid for the damage I caused). There was a panicked look on J’s face that told me to keep my mouth shut. So, I accepted the money with some babble about “Oh Im sure she would do the same for me.” I don’t think J’s mom found out about the damage for years, and I am certain that neither of them learned the truth of who was driving until we were in college. Oddly enough, it was that same car that was later rear ended by a bicycle, a University Services van, and then sent to that great parking lot in the sky by a speeding teenager in a pickup truck.




12 responses

28 01 2009

That is ridiculus no way its been thirteen years! Pretty damn soon we will be pullin’ a Margie, sittin’ in the chair smokin’ cigs, drinkin’ coffee with hot pink lip prints, and bitch ’bout da catholics for sinnin’ all week long and confessin’ on Sundays. lol

And I distinctly remember the scream, will never forget it!

If I think about it tomorrow I will scan the snowball pics in the computer for you to post if you dare!

BTW… that car also survived my first “driving without my parents expedition” on Christmas Eve. It was not pretty when I landed it on the median at the crossroads mall. Amazingly enough it was teeter tottering on the oil pan but did survive without injury until you got ahold of it. lol!!

28 01 2009
Noe Noe Girl

LMAO~ and peed my pants again! Thanks for the rest of the story Michelle!
VV~ you crack me up!

28 01 2009
The Incredible Woody

That just triggered a memory! I, too, wrecked a friend’s new car. She had just gotten the brand new white Grand Am for her birthday that afternoon. That evening after consuming quite a few birthday cocktails, she was in no shape to drive. So I did. We stopped for a bite at McDonald’s. As I was driving down the street holding my drink with one hand and the steering wheel and an order of fries in the other, a car pulled directly out from the Advanced Auto Parts and t-boned us!! Oh yes, I did a magnificient job of trying to manuver to miss the other driver but to no avail. And by God, I did not drop those fries!!

28 01 2009
The Vinyl Villager

michelle–oh so she got it on christmas eve?? I feel better that I didnt wreck it the same day she got it. Yes, scan em in! Im sure I have them somewhere. I distinctly recall looking a hot mess in those photos.

noe noe–Now I’m afraid of what others from the real world might show up and spill the beans on….

Woody–we might be twins from different mothers! LOL! but at least that one wasnt your fault, was it?

28 01 2009

Wow! That was fantastic!

“flaming cry of help me help me” (I actually snorted, and did not even care how unattractive that is!)

28 01 2009
The Vinyl Villager

and dont forget southern!

I’ve got an image in my mind of Scarlett O hara shouting “As God is my witness! I will never drive off the interstate ramp again!”

29 01 2009

I am so glad that no one got hurt in any of your stories…and I have to admit that I, too, had a vision of a Scarlett O’hara type person sitting in the drivers seat of that flying car, flapping her/his hands and screaming “heeeelllpmmmmeee!”

This story cracked me up!

30 01 2009
Big Hair Envy

For some reason, I’m hearing AC/DC singing “Highway to Hell…” It’s probably a defense mechanism to drown out the whole Scarlett O’Hara thing. Bwahahahaha!!!

Oh, dear Lord, I have a 17 year old who DRIVES!

30 01 2009

Damn! You are too funny! But, you’ll never be allowed to drive any car of mine. Hehehehe…

How you all ever hid that from her parents I’ll never know. Nothing ever got past me. I was too damn sneaky for my kids.

30 01 2009

OMG. That was great. i love teen driving stories. I am so sick because my stepdaughter will start drivers training soon, and I already told her dad no WAY will she ever take my car. I know how bad of drivers kids are. My friend once hit the gas instead of the brakes and we went flying into some old people’s charised tree, cutting it down at the base. They were so upset about their tree and not at all concerned two teenagers were wrapped around a light post. Ha ha, I hope your friend got her $300 bucks back on the sly.

3 02 2009

Haha, It’s sad but I know exactly what exit you are talking about. I almost wrecked there once myself.

3 02 2009
The Vinyl Villager

Josh…then you know they dont give you enough warning!

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