Driving is a contact sport

5 October, 13

I like to drive. I am pretty good at it, too. I have only wrecked my own car once or twice. Other people's cars have not always fared so well, but they don't count, right?

As a Junior at Hartsville High School, home of the MIGHTY RED FOXES, I drove a Vette. It was a Chevette, but to me, it was perfect. Chevettes are butt ugly, glorified Pepsi Cans that are designed to seat four people. I once carried 13 from Kelleytown Stadium to the Sonic Drive-In. The speedometer maxed out at 90mph, but you could go faster than that if you had a good, long downhill. It handled like a dream too, taking corners like a true sports car, except when it was rainy on a really curvy road. Luckily I had just stolen some real estate signs the night before, so I was able to put them under the tires and get out of the ditch without incurring any damage.

One day as I was leaving the high school parking lot with two hot babes and some other hanger-on, I waved to one of my buddies, who was still in the parking lot, probably Noogie Crowley, or Noog for short. Everything was fine, except I forgot that I was in bumper to bumper traffic. I ran smack into the back of a big ole Redneck's 1965 Candy Apple Red Pontiac GTO. Now this begs the question, "Why would you give a car like that to a kid in high school." It's his daddy's fault we got tangled up in the first place. Luckily for me, it did not even scratch the shiny chrome fender on that beast. My Chevette, however, suffered a much different fate.

The passenger side headlight was busted out and the middle of the hood was caved in, right at the hood latch. Immediately my mind started whirring. How was I gonna get out of this one? The hanger-on in the back seat came up with a wonderful suggestion. "Just tell your parents it was vandalism." That was a stroke of genius. The four of us in the car at the time started getting our stories straight. By the time I got home, I was totally immersed in my role as victim of a malicious attack on my precious property.

Finally my parents got home, and I said, "Mama and Daddy, you are not gonna believe this." Establish credibility with the jury as soon as possible "Somebody has vandalized my car, right in the middle of the high school parking lot!" Then I waited. Nothing is more effective in the courtroom than a dramatic pause. Of course they wanted to survey the damage. I was prepared for that and readily gave them a tour. Presentation of the evidence is critical. They must only believe YOUR truth, not THE truth. Then my mama threw a curve ball in the proceedings. She said, "Well, I guess we'll have to call the police and file a report." I was not ready for that. It's all well and good, until the Fuzz shows up. I commenced to puckering.

After a short while, a patrol car drove up, and, with great fear and trepidation, I explained my situation to the policeman. That policeman looked at me. Then he looked at the car. Then he looked at me. Then he looked at the car. Then he said, "Boy, you sure you didn't wreck this here car?"

That was my moment of truth. My crossroads. My rubicon. I knew right away what I needed to do. Straightening my back, lifting my head, speaking with resolution, I said, "No sir. I did not wreck this car."

Barney took one more look, then said, "Well it looks like they were goin' after yer batt'ry."

What a relief!! The verdict came back NOT GUILTY! They bought the whole package. I could hardly get the words out fast enough. "That's right, officer! They tried to pry open the hood, right at the latch. When they failed, they must have gotten angry and busted the headlight in absolute frustration."

The Hartsville Messenger dutifully recorded the outrageous action of some unknown malefactor, stating that the car suffered $600 damage. That was the biggest lie of all. The whole car wasn't worth that much.

Here in Spain, I have not fared very well, historically speaking. Way back in 1998, I managed to kill a car and strand it on the Autovia in the middle of Nowhere at about midnight. I had to leave my bride with the car, as I rode off with total strangers to look for a pay phone. For all I know, that car sits right where I left it, to this day.

I have also managed to scrape up a few sides as I navigate narrow passageways and garages. Luckily these aren't my cars, so it doesn't count right? What is the Spanish word for vandalism?