Ha! Did it! |
Driving is important.
At least when you live on a ranch a million miles from anywhere.
And it happened early.
Driving, I mean.
As soon as I was able to reach the pedals on the tractor and still hold onto the steering wheel, I was driving. Mowing. Baling. Stacking. There were lots of reasons to perch me up on 'the beast' and start the engine.
But on a tractor, I had the entire field to turn around in. And on the Stringam ranch, the fields were . . . large.
Just FYI.
At the age of twelve, I graduated to the pickup.
Again, I was limited to traveling in the fields and doing ranch work but I was still driving.
And in control . . . more or less, as I made wide turns about the fields.
On to my story . . .
One morning, bright and early, I decided to go for a ride.
I don't know why.
It was spring.
I'm an idiot.
Take your pick.
Anyways . . .
Because I was still a fairly new driver and driving was still a treat, and because I was basically lazy, I decided to take the pickup to the far corral where my horse, Peanuts was currently residing.
All went well.
I drove there and parked, spent an hour or so riding in the early morning sunshine, and drove back to the ranch house.
And that's where it all went so very wrong.
I should probably mention that I had gone riding really early. By the time I returned, everyone was still in dreamland.
And remember where I said that I was only accustomed to maneuvering in large spaces?
Well, that would apply here.
I drove carefully up to the carport situated, by the by, directly beneath my parent's bedroom.
And very, very carefully drove into it.
And I do mean 'into'.
Crunch.
Oops.
Frantically, I backed up.
And clipped the pillar again.
I tried to straighten out and hit it a third time.
The truck just kept getting more and more . . . crooked.
Stupid machine. This was going nowhere fast.
And suddenly, standing there in a shaft of early morning light looking like the avenging God of Sleep(lessness), was my father.
Now I should explain to you that my Dad always wore pajamas. Nicely pressed, matching, button-up top with trousers (that Mom cuts off just below the knee and neatly hems).
They were quite a sight.
But I digress . . .
At this time, I only vaguely noted his light green PJ's.
Because Dad. Wasn't. Happy.
I let the engine die.
We stared at each other.
"What the hell is going on here?!" Okay, he's a rancher. Sometimes they say 'hell'.
But only when really perturbed. Oddly enough, it's usually when I'm around.
"It's okay. I can fix it!"
"Diane, get out of the truck!"
"I can fix it, Dad!"
He just looked at me. I knew that look. I'd seen it before.
A few times.
I climbed sheepishly out of the truck and moved towards him.
"What on earth are you doing? You almost shook me right out of my bed!"
"Umm . . . I went for a ride."
"In the truck?"
"Well, Peanuts is clear over . . ."
"I know where Peanuts is."
"Well, I drove over there and went for a ride."
"At five o'clock in the morning?"
"Well, yes."
"Get in the house."
One never moves faster than when avoiding fallout. I knew this from past experience. I disappeared in a heartbeat.
Dad surveyed the damage. There were a couple of 'bruises' on one of the carport supports and a dent in the truck door. (Which popped out later when Dad went to get the mail and slammed the door.)
So the damage was relatively minor if you don't count lost sleep.
Which Dad does.
Sigh.
I want you to know that I did learn to drive.
For real.
But I'll always remember that first time. And my Dad in his PJ's.
Some things you just never forget.
You probably think about it every time you try to back into a parking space.
ReplyDeleteEvery. Single. Time.
DeleteIt could have been a whole heap worse. A friend took out the supports to her families carport. Which came down. She survived but the car and the carport were not in good shape.
ReplyDeleteSuddenly my story takes on a whole new light . . .
DeleteI put two driving lesson confessions in here and decided not to publish them. There must be something about carports.
ReplyDeleteRats! I'd love to think I'm in my group here! ;)
DeleteI have a wonderful photo of our daughter standing next to her car that she'd managed to wedge against the pillar of the garage - we had to wait for her father to get home to unwedge it - minimal damage and a great story in our house (much like yours!)
ReplyDeleteThose stories you survive . . .
DeleteOh noooo!
ReplyDeleteLiving in NYC, I always feel so sorry for people who have to learn to drive here. SO many things to run into. I didn't have a ranch but at least Naval Submarine Base Bangor in Washington State was quiet and there were large, sparsely populated parking lots in which to practice.
Although there was that time we were going into Bremerton and my dad decided that I was going to drive and furthermore that I was going to drive the Buick LeSabre, not the Toyota Tercel that I wanted to drive. All I can say is I told him so.
Bwahahaha! I can just picture it!
DeleteThere's nothing quite like the crunch you didn't see coming when you're in the driver's seat. (speaking from personal experience)
ReplyDeleteWell, maybe there's the crunch you didn't see coming because you were in bed. That, too!
"Oddly enough, it's usually when I'm around." made me laugh :)
You know me well, Jenny! :)
Delete