A recent article by the illustrious Q got me thinking about a now infamous experience he and I shared over the course of a lunch hour back in the year 2000 (please read the last phrase like that dude from the Conan O'Brien Show).
Q and I often went to grab a bite while he was working in my office. This particular time we took my Sa-Wank company car - a powder blue Ford Taurus, Ching! There is this little burger dive in an old part of town that we enjoyed visiting, only it had us roll through a moderately sketchy neighborhood.
This particular time we were headed back to campus and I slowly pulled up to a stop-sign next to a 7-eleven. As I did this I could see a young man riding a bicycle down the intersecting street. Instead of going through the intersection (where he would have had the right of way) he chose to cut across the 7-eleven lot, and in doing so slammed into the passenger side of my car! Q screamed like a six-year-old girl and dove his head into my lap as the man's body buckled in half, with arms and torso sprawling across the hood of my car and legs flailing against Q's window. His momentum (now displaced by the powder-blue sex-machine) rolled down the right side of the vehicle along with the bicycle, leaving a long scratches and a very unattractive streak from his tennis shoes.
I did what any mild mannered driver sitting at a dead freakin' stop would do. I pulled Q's head out of my crotch, yelled "son of a bitch!" and jumped out of my car. The guy had popped up from behind my back-right tire, his long blond mass of hair swishing from side to side in a disheveled mess. He was probably in his mid thirties, wore a sleeveless Iron Maiden t-shirt and cut-off blue jeans.
FYI - Cut off blue jeans are always a bad sign!
He rubbed his three day old stubble as he groaned and looked over at me. The following conversation ensued.
Me: What the hell do you think you're doing?
Blondie: Dude, I've never been hit by a car before.
Me: You mean you've never HIT a car before. I was at a dead stop, a-hole.
Blondie: Yeah, man... I'm sorry about that. You like came out of no-where.
Me: I was sitting at the stop sign. (By this time I've walked around the car and seen that he's knocked my side mirror completely off). Look at the damage to my car.
Blondie: Yeah, man.
Q: (to me) Do you think he's okay?
Me: Oh yeah, are you okay?
Blondie: Yeah, I think I'm okay. Thanks for asking (Keep in mind, he's bleeding all over the back of my car as he turns to pick up his busted bike and begins to walk away).
Me: Hold up, Tex. This is a company car. I've got to call the police and file a report.
Blondie: What?
Me: You need to stay here while I call the police.
Blondie: The cops?
Me: Yes.
Blondie: Yeah, I gotta go home and grab my wallet. I just live down the street but I'll be right back.
Me: Listen. You do what you want, but I'm calling the police. You say you're coming back... that's on you.
Blondie: Okay... see you in just a second.
I go into the 7-eleven and the clerk says, "Man, that guy is not coming back."
Me: Don't I know it.
Two weeks and $780 later I get the Taurus back as good as new. Message to the kids: Don't do drugs.
17 comments:
$780 out of your pocket?
No... the college paid for it.
whew! I was about to have to come down there and hunt me a redneck
2 problems with your recalling:
I don't recall you pulling my head from your crotch 'til I was done...
And you went into a detail shop to call the cops the detail shop guy said these stoners roll through here all the time and never look it's not your fault. And 'cause the guy was going to the 7-eleven to buy some Marlboro Reds. Remember that is what he said he was doing, "Dude I was just going to get some smokes man"
Q, you are correct, sir. The 7-eleven was the intended destination of said pot-head before he had to stop and hump my windshield.
And yes, you were finished but I always like to finish by jerking on your hair!
I think Q and I should start hanging out with my friends instead.
Are your friends as cool as mine? I guess it doesn't really matter lets roll...
fringes.... what? ...what did I say? What?
More truthiness: your friends are way cooler than mine. Crotch nuzzling aside, I really like you all. Okay, okay, especially because of the crotch nuzzling.
fringes, you tell us which blog comments to invade, and we're there
Strangely enough, someone is trying to pick a fight with me in my own comments as we speak.
flame war? I am so there...and married yet home alone on a Friday night.
I only crotch nuzzled because the guy was coming at my window, well that and because CyberD paid me 20 bucks. I was in college I needed the money.
My friend hit a guy on a bike once and then hit the same guy a few months later. The police told him that he gets hit all the time.
Also, I'd like to hear more head-in-crotch memories. That's my kind of story.
Sometime CyberD will need to post our Pabst Blue Ribbon, queso, and pedestrian experience. Man those were good times...
That may be one for DotCom or Big Dirty to tell!
Mist,
There are plenty of those ol' tales to go around so hopefully you will not be disappointed!
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