Getting 2 comments is nice! Especially when one isn't from me. So, to my Chinese reader, here's how you comment:
Maybe some people do not know how to leave the comments.
I showed your Aunt Mary how to leave a comment the other day. We have to put in the letters that look funny then when we choose an identity we have to choose OTHER,because we are not registered google/bloggers. then we can put in a name. LOVE MOM
My mom wrote that.
I can't think of anything terribly interesting or even remotely minute and delightful only to me to blog about today. I read a sad story on MSNBC today, and it's kept me sad all day (and, it's not Anna Nicole Smith, though her passing so soon after having a new baby is sad, too).
I'm not going to write about that story. It would just make me sad all over again. Instead, I'm going to write about the time I jumped out the station wagon, on purpose, and let Dad think it was his fault (and it probably was at least partially his fault.)
This one truly is a Trevor and Devin story. I have told Trevor this story, and he asks me to tell it again and again. It's a real cautionary tale I have shared with my boy...
Back in the day, we had an old green station wagon with fake wood sides. I think it was a Buick. The back seat smelled like old gasoline fumes, and I remember talking or thinking about how easily it would be to die of carbon monoxide in the back of that car. Sindy drove it in high school, if I remember right. I suppose it was a righteous party wagon for her. I'm not sure. To me, it was a wagon of DEATH!
Once when I was 12 or 13, I was riding in the back of that station wagon on the tailgate. No seatbelt. Can't wear a seatbelt on the tailgate of a station wagon. Just not possible. We were only driving through Wynona, and it was a short ride, so the risk of hitting a big pot hole and getting knocked out of the car onto the road and into the path of oncoming traffic was pretty small. One of the first times I rode on the tailgate of this car, as we got close to home and slowed down, and because I thought we were pretty close to stopping, I hopped out. I must have held on, and I got a little jolt out of running faster than I normally could behind the quickly decelerating car.
Another time, probably that same week, we were going across town to visit Aunt Opal. As we slowed down in the approach to her house, I decided to try it again. I may have even said to whoever was sitting next to me, (Chad, maybe??) "Watch this!"
As before, I hopped out off the tailgate and held onto the car. Unfortunately, we weren't really anywhere near Aunt Opal's house. Well, she was one block over. What I thought was deceleration in advance of stopping at Aunt Opal's house was only a brief slow down as Dad approached an intersection. So, when I hopped out of the car and held on, I ended up getting dragged a couple of feet before Dad realized that he had lost one of his tail gate riders.
I don't think I ever told Dad that I jumped off the tailgate on my own. I just let him think it was his fault. And, I know it was 1980 something or other and in a small town in the middle of a rural county in a mostly rural state where kids still ride around in pickup beds in 2007, but I think he still deserves a little of the blame...
Let's say 20% for old times' sake.
When I tell this story to Trevor, the moral has always been "DON'T BE STUPID! YOU COULD DIE JUST LIKE I ALMOST DID WHEN I WAS STUPID! SEE!"
Maybe someday, I will tell you why I'm chicken of chickens and how I didn't learn to waterski one day. But, that will have to wait until I can figure how out how to make these cautionary tales for Trevor and Devin.