By Bob Comeans
Things have been a little rough in my driveway lately. To be more exact, it’s been chaos.
Typically, I have five cars sitting in my driveway. We have four drivers, so it’s not that unusual. Two adults, and two teens. In less than three weeks I’m down to two. Cars, not people.
Three weeks ago I get an early morning phone call from my high school senior, Landon. I couldn’t tell if he was hyperventilating, having an undiagnosed medical attack, or just woke up on the wrong side of the bed. “Dad, I wrecked Connor’s car!” That’s crazy I thought, a split second later, why would he be driving his brother’s car?
What could he possibly be talking about, and was this an excuse to stay home from school. “I backed my truck into Connor’s car, in the driveway.”
When your gut talks to you, listen. When I left the house that morning I had noticed a nice blue 1998 Ford mustang (Connor’s car) parked in the blind spot of a nice blue 1999 Chevy pickup truck (Landon’s truck). I really should go back in, get the keys, and move that car I thought, as I drove off.
Two hours later my gut told me I told you so. After rushing home to see what was going on, Landon met me at the door. He looked bad.
The mustang, however, didn’t look that bad, on the passenger side. I got around to the driver’s side and noticed that the only thing holding the window in place, was the tint. Well, thank goodness for that. It was all downhill from there. Mirror, driver’s door, window, and rear quarter panel all showed the results of what kind of damage a 3/4 ton pickup truck can do in less than a car’s length of travel.
Innocent son, now declared guilty, said he didn’t see, or feel, or hear several tons of collective metal coming together. I suspect the subwoofer and that ipod plugged into the dash might of had something to do with that. Maybe that stiff gas pedal too. But that’s just me wishing I was somewhere else about now. I’m pretty sure Landon felt the same way.
Meanwhile mustang, being of recently destroyed’s owner, slept peacefully just half a household away. “Can I just go to school before you wake him up and tell him?” “I don’t want to get punched.” Well, neither did I, and none of us wanted to be anywhere near where we were just about then. “No, we have to go wake him up.”
If you’ve ever woke someone up from a good night’s sleep with bad news, you’ll know it’s, well, bad. This wasn’t much different. Connor saw his favorite car, looking like a junkyard heap, and I swear he started speaking in tongues and his mouth started foaming as he Jackie Channed a few moves toward his brother. I never saw his little brother move so fast trying to stay a good length of driveway away from the scene.
The final insult came when we checked the damage on the offending truck, and there was just a tiny little scuff on that titanium chrome bumper. I’m not sure, but that scuff may have even been there before the accident. Several good kicks followed that didn’t do anything to that big hunk of truck. That just made a mad brother, well even madder. No punches were thrown, but it sure got ugly.
No uglier than that poor old mustang sitting there wondering what the heck it had done to deserve any of this. As it got towed away, I told Connor to just use my Saturn. Landon got his wish and escaped to a most welcome day of school.
It wasn’t one week later, Connor got rear ended, in my Saturn, sitting still at a red light. He was fine, but now my car was totaled. Two cars totaled in two weeks, and neither one of them was even moving at the time. That’s got to be some bad kind of record. Three days later, a before mentioned Chevy truck lost it’s transmission. Live by the sword, die by the sword is what I always say. Well, about that Chevy truck anyway.
I now have two cars sitting in my driveway and still with four drivers. I finally got a check from the insurance for the Saturn. It was enough to cover the body shop repair for the mustang and a new transmission for the pickup truck. Things worked out pretty good on that account, except now I don’t have a car. I have a son who’s in debt to me for as many years as I can make it last. I’ve also got a fancy repaired mustang parked in the front yard, well away from any moving objects and two brother’s are finally starting to kind of talk to each other again.
I’ve issued orange traffic cones to each car and driver. They are to be picked up, or set out, at the rear bumper upon entering, or exiting, any vehicle in the driveway that is titled in my name. Which accounts for well, all of them.
When I get time I’m going to weld a carrying bracket on the backside of each bumper, cause those big orange cones take up alot of space in the front seat. They would also be a good warning reminder to the next driver of a big German import who doesn’t notice three sets of brake lights and a red light as they approach an intersection. Of course, I won’t hold it against them. They were busy syncing they’re phone to a bluetooth nav system while enjoying the fine smell of polished wood on an inlaid dash.
I was thinking about going out this weekend and looking at one of those fancy new ones, out on the car lot. But, no probably not, you can’t weld a carry bracket on a plastic bumper, and that’s just asking for trouble, and I got all I can handle.
You got car chaos? Let me know so maybe I’ll feel a little bit better.