Sunday, March 02, 2008
Icecapades
Yesterday on my way home from the gym I had a little bit of a mishap. Let me set the stage for this by saying that I was wearing blue and orange U of I gym shorts and a sweat-drenched t-shirt for the Jimmy Dean/True Value Country Showdown. But anyway, I was driving down the alley towards my house when another car came barrelling towards me, and I swerved into a neighbor's driveway to avoid it. At which point my car slid all the way down the driveway on the ice and nestled against the garage door, a point from which no amount of engine revving could apparently budge it. After about ten minutes of me cranking the wheel back and forth, hitting the gas, and screaming obscenities, one of my neighbors appeared.
"What are you doing in my driveway?" he asked, somewhat reasonably.
"Um yeah, I'm really sorry, but I'm kind of stuck. I can't get any traction with all this ice."
"Yeah, I know, but what are you doing in my driveway in the first place?"
Being a fan of the blame game myself, I gave the best explanation I could, trying to avoid painting myself as a crazy person as much as possible.
"Okay. Well, here's what I'm going to do. I'll open the garage door, you can pull in, and then you use that space to build up as much momentum as possible. Then you just shoot all the way up the driveway and out into the alley."
Realizing that this plan might well result in my untimely death or that of any number of innocent passersby, I considered passing, but decided that perching in this driveway for the rest of my life was likely the greater evil. We did a countdown and everything, I slammed on the accelerator Dukes of Hazzard style, and there were in fact no casualties. I just may never leave my own driveway again.
Yesterday on my way home from the gym I had a little bit of a mishap. Let me set the stage for this by saying that I was wearing blue and orange U of I gym shorts and a sweat-drenched t-shirt for the Jimmy Dean/True Value Country Showdown. But anyway, I was driving down the alley towards my house when another car came barrelling towards me, and I swerved into a neighbor's driveway to avoid it. At which point my car slid all the way down the driveway on the ice and nestled against the garage door, a point from which no amount of engine revving could apparently budge it. After about ten minutes of me cranking the wheel back and forth, hitting the gas, and screaming obscenities, one of my neighbors appeared.
"What are you doing in my driveway?" he asked, somewhat reasonably.
"Um yeah, I'm really sorry, but I'm kind of stuck. I can't get any traction with all this ice."
"Yeah, I know, but what are you doing in my driveway in the first place?"
Being a fan of the blame game myself, I gave the best explanation I could, trying to avoid painting myself as a crazy person as much as possible.
"Okay. Well, here's what I'm going to do. I'll open the garage door, you can pull in, and then you use that space to build up as much momentum as possible. Then you just shoot all the way up the driveway and out into the alley."
Realizing that this plan might well result in my untimely death or that of any number of innocent passersby, I considered passing, but decided that perching in this driveway for the rest of my life was likely the greater evil. We did a countdown and everything, I slammed on the accelerator Dukes of Hazzard style, and there were in fact no casualties. I just may never leave my own driveway again.
