A couple weeks ago, Dad taught M how to use the ride on mower. Ummm...Dad?? She's only 11!!! I don't really remember him being all THAT patient when I was a kid...but then again, I did start driving the plow truck when I was 12! lol
**flash back - 1986**
I'm 12...We've just had a HUGE snow storm, and somebody thought it was OK for me to plow the driveway!! Me - all of 12 years old, behind the wheel of an ENORMOUS 78 Dodge Ram, shoving a big arse yellow plow! Mom's car was an 80 (I think) Caprice Classic - it was a land yacht! So there I was - I'm bombing around the corner and think I'm Joe Cool! I'm shoving back snow banks, and cutting new trails and piling high ridges and WHAM!!! I cornered too close to Moms car and punched in the entire drivers side door of Dads plow truck!! OMG OMG OMG OMG OMG!! I changed my pants! (cuz I had pooped myself) then I ran next door and VERY sheepishly stuck my head into my grandmothers kitchen. Dad (who is btw - 6'3" tall, and every bit of 300lbs) immediately sees my sneeky entrance and bellows in a rolling of eyes tone; "Whadja hit??!!" As my way too short life passed before my eyes, I remember saying; "Ummm..well...I may have cut too close to the caprice...and I may have kinda put the teeniest of dents in the truck??" Dad rolls his eyes, and gets up off the chair while I moved with the stealth of God himself to get as far away as I could...I'm trying to figure out how long I can survive on the $23.42 I have in my piggy bank, knowing I'll have to leave home for good!! I'm half way accross the drive way when I see him lumbering towards me with a big stick in his hand...that's it - this is how my life will end! I'm going to be pummeled into the after life by a...giant...yellow?? stick?? I was scratching my head at this point, trying to figure out exactly what my weapon of destruction would be...I paused in my tracks to let him walk by and he looked down at me (again with the rolling of eyes tone) and says "come on..."...I followed him up the snow covered driveway to the massacred truck and notice that on the end of that bright yellow stick is a black plunger!? The next thing caught me completely by suprise...My Dad - all 6'3" of him in his camofauge ball cap, Christmas Green quilted hunters jacket, untied work boots and paint covered work pants walks up to the truck, takes the plunger in both hands and slams the end of it into the dent...then, with a single swift tug on the bright yellow stick I hear a metalic "POP" and watch as the door is miraculously pulled back into its original form. Dad turns to me with the biggest grin on his face, winks at me and says "There ya go!" and walks back over to my grandparents house as he swings the plunger back over his shoulder! I noticed then that my chin was cold, as it had hit the ground...my life wasn't over, he wasn't going to beat me to death with a giant yellow stick and the truck was once again as it should be. I, however, never took that turn again, without first moving the cars!
You know...I had planned for this post to be about something entirely different...but I think I like this one better :)
