Her name was Honey, and it only took one glance to scare the shit out of me.
Let me formally introduce you to Honey; Miss Honey my Driver's Ed Road Tester. She was not my first. Not my second either, but who's counting?
Anyway, back to Miss Honey. Instead of Honey, her name just as well could have been Tank. Imagine a huge woman, the largest woman you can imagine. Well, now add on another 50 pounds and that would have been Honey. There must have been a sweetness to her that I never saw; certainly parents wouldn't name their kid Honey for no good reason.for Regardless, I surely did not get any "sweetness" from her starting from the time I shook her hand to the time I rode back into the station with tears streaming down my face.
It surely was an eventful morning test ride with Miss Honey.
We walked out of the station and I specifically remember looking at my mom like it may be the last time I would ever see her. We approached my dad's Chevy Caviler. I got in and unlocked her door (no manual lock system - we sure were ballers :P). Miss Honey sits down. The car immediately drops to the ground. We were going to be low riders for this test.
I am sweating like a pig. I fasten my seat belt, check the mirrors and start the car. Is she wearing her seat belt? I glance over. She is not wearing her seat belt. In fact, she is still trying to reach around her belly to grab the belt. I do the unthinkable.
"Can I help you with your seatbelt, " I ask.
"That is so kind of you, yes, please," she replies.
I reach around her belly, grap the belt, reach back around her "tire" (if you will) and fasten it. During this process I realize that her gut is touching the dashboard. Yes, belly on the board. I may as well be with a beached whale. My heart is racing and I haven't even actually gotten out of the lot yet. This was not going to be good.
And, true to my instincts it was not going to be good. I just didn't know how bad it was going to be.
We started off with the easy stuff. Turn left. Turn right. Do a "Y" turn. Turn right again. Stop at the stop sign. Check your mirrors. Ya de ya da. It was nearing the time I loathed. Time to parallel park. I never understood why parallel parking mattered so much that they had to test you on it. I lived in the 'burbs. There was no need to parallel park ever. You either had a driveway or there was plenty of empty parking spots available on the street.
So I approach the "victim" (aka the car). I pull up aside it, put my turn signal on, check all my mirrors and I am ready to perfect the park. The only problem is this is the first time during the test where I actually have to see who is sitting next to me again. My nerves strike up again. I start backing up. Miss Honey says nothing. I must be doing all right. Let's keep going. Slowly, slowly...
"Stop, stop, stop! You're too close, too close," she shrills.
*Thud
Cue crying. I hit the damn car while parallel parking. Shit, fuck, damn. If Miss Honey had warned me BEFORE I was already hitting the car it would have been fine.
Now here is the worst part. We have to get out of the car to "access the damage and the situation." Remember how I had to click her belt on. Yeah..... now I have to undo the seatbelt and frickin' help her out of the car. I would rather die, truthfully. Eat my own shit, and die.
How the hell am I going to get through this. I still have to drive back to the station and then tell my mom. Oh my frickin' god. Plus - AUTOMATIC FAILURE. Who gets their license after hitting a car anyway? That's the golden rule - hit car = you suck at driving no matter how intimidating the tester is.
Turns out the damage was nothing. I left a note anyway.
I now had to endure what perhaps was the longest and most uncomfortable drive of my life. (After clicking her in and touching her belly again, of course). I rolled through stops, but other than that was a perfect driver. There was no conversation during that drive. In fact, I think I even stopped breathing to be even more quiet.
We got into the station and I gave my mom the look of death. She knew immediately that something went terribly, oh so terribly wrong during my test. Miss Honey filled her in on all the details. I was happy to have my mom drive me off so I could let the river flow.
I never wanted to drive again. Or at least never wanted a morbily obese person to be in the car with me spouting out directions.
It was my most memorable driving test. And it was a good thing she had such a good name - and one I will certainly never forget - Miss Honey.
---
**I did get a call from the owner's of the hit car. They told me not to sweat it. It was the third time their car was hit by a test driver in two months. They needed to go to the DMV and put their car on the "do not parallel park by this car" list. I have since gotten better at parallel parking, even if I still avoid it at all costs.
Monday, April 16, 2012
Hit it.
“Never go on trips with anyone you do not love” – Hemingway A Moveable Feast
I've always loved road trips. There have been a couple of select awesome ones in the past…The winter my sister and I were driving home for Christmas from Boston, and we ran out of gas. In Buffalo. In a snow storm. Cruising along in the ol’ White Rabbit (Gio Metro) listening to my “Boston Blues” mix tape that had “If Winter Ends” on it by Bright Eyes over and over again. Both of us chain smoking bidis, or cigarillos, or cigars to stay awake -- because she refused to smoke cigarettes, but cigars and far eastern hand rolled cloves were ok. Staying at the skankiest motel ever (aside from Villa Verde in San Juan: “I’m scared these sheets will get me pregnant”) and the air conditioner was turned full blast and there was no knob to turn it down/off.
*sigh* Good Times.
But seriously, you do have to travel with people you love. You need to take a trip with a best bud who knows you well enough to email you first thing in the morning and ask if your going to leave your apartment today, because she knows otherwise you probably won’t; or a sister that will let you cling to her back like a spider monkey when you wake up at 3 A.M. with an air conditioner that you can’t turn off blasting on you. These are the people you travel with.
With that being said, there is just nothing quite like setting the cruise control and driving with the windows down in the summer, blasting some Queen. Or, blasting a particularly awesome mix CD your BFF made for you when you busted up with your boyfriend. Especially awesome if said BFF is riding shotgun.
A couple of summers ago, I picked up Chellber at roughly 9 AM on a Saturday in July. It was the third weekend in July, to be exact, because it was Watercross weekend and we were going to embark on the 120 miles journey from Minneapolis, MN to Grantsburg, WI. An easy 2 hour trip north and east on Highway 35. "Watercross" is perhaps the most ridiculous event ever created, and quite frankly I’m embarrassed at how excited I get for it. But, then again, it’s a weekend of World Class Drinking and Dancing (and usually at least one party at Huff’s). And, it’s a weekend of World Class Snowmobile Racing. How do people snowmobile race in the summer, you ask?
I have no idea. But they do it. I know it involves changing around some things on snowmobile so it can run better on water. But anyhoo, that’s beside the point. This story is not about snowmobiles. This story is about two people with A.D.D. who should not be told they need to get from point A to Z in X amount of time, because it just is never gonna happen.
Our first stop on this grand adventure was as we floated past a Best Buy. “HEY, you know what would be awesome???, I ask, “if I got a new camera today!” Um, sure. Okay. No time like the present, afterall. We shuffle around Best Buy for about 45 minutes taking pictures of our boobs with the tester cameras, and I eventually buy one. About 30 miles and 50 random pictures later, we decide, HEY, you know what would be awesome? it would be AWESOME if we made our own Tshirts! We should totally stop at Walmart and buy iron on thingys and some white shirts!
We stop at Walmart. And because I have a new camera, we decide that HEY, you know what would be awesome?? To dress up in muumuus (those huge granny dresses), and scarves, and sunglasses! And purses, and shoes, and umbrellas! And then take pictures! So, for about 2 hours we patter around Wal mart, grabbing any and all fluorescent, floral, and leather items we see, and put them on and take pictures of each other. Because that’s awesome. I end up buying a straw hat which to this day I have never wore. We also get our supplies for this T-Shirt project that apparently we are going to do sometime this weekend between being drunk and…being drunker? It was as we are leaving Walmart Bekah’s phone rings (mine was already dead as i had forgotten my charger, as usual). She picks up:
Jenn: So, where are you guysssss?
Chellber: *looking at me fearfully* Um…Walmart?
Jenn: ....In Pine City?
Chellber: No,no…in Forest Lake…
Jenn: WHAT? But you guys are supposed to be hereeee! You said you’d be here between 10 and11! (it’s already around Noon and we've travelled roughly 45 miles)
Chellber: We are on our way!
We hop back in the Fuckus (or, the "Focus") and Hit. That. Shit.
We were supposed to meet Jenn between 10 or 11 AM. Oopsie. We’ve been listening to Queen for about 3 hours now, so we decide to switch it up. Bekah digs through my CD case and finds the obligatory “break up mix” that every car must have, and that she has made for me, and pops it in. We listen to a couple tracks, and then on comes “Du”, by David Hasselhoff. Umm…ok. Sure. Never really thought to put on a "Break Up" mix CD, but it seems appropriate. But then again it’s in German and I have no fucking clue what he is saying. But, no matter. We “sing along” for a couple of verses in our fake German, and it goes a little something like this:
“Duuuuu…died in an alley, this is Nietzsche feeling Zaza….Duuuuu with the otter, we will feeelllll….DUUUU….do I like Nichteze when he standsssss….Duuuuu do you steal hair from the man...Du, yes my name is Don Shaun….”
And so on and so forth, until we are laughing so hard that I have to stop so we can pee. I pull off at the next exit and stop the car. But wait. What is this place? Why is it so familiar? Is the same town where we got our first tattoos, back in our days of being young and impressionable and the kind of kids who got tattoos without telling their parents! Remember that??? That was awesome. HEY, you know what would be awesome? If we got another tattoo!!!! Let’s go get a tattoo!
To be continued....gotta go buy some brown sugar now.
Okay, back. 4 days later....no, it didn't take me that long to buy friggin brown sugar. Though...if you want to get specific about it, I did get some brown sugar of another kind, What! (insert Barney Stintson voice here).
Anyway. So, we decide that we absoutely, positively, MUST get a tattoo immediately. It is imparative. This trip will not be completely without a new permanent marking on our bodies to commemorate this trip. So, now we are roughly 1/2 way to our destination and it's about 3PM. we said we would be there at 10 or 11AM.
We pull into the tat parlor and starting browsing around, debating what would be wise to get inked on us. I am debating between a black spade and Chellber is thinking about a little mushroom to go next to her ladybug or something. We talk prices with Mr. Tattoo Dude, who happens to be an apprentice so the work will be HALF OFF. "That is amazing!" we say! Hey, you know what would be totally awesome to get??? We should totally get a matching tattoo!!!! Like 2 peas in a pod!!!! Hey, Mr. Tattoo Dude, can you draw us a little something like that????
He sure can! He grabs some pencils and goes to work, and about 30 minutes later shows us what he has. The first draft looked a little like a vagina, so we asked him to refine the shape slightly so it didn't look so much like a Georiga O'Keefe painting. He does, and then it looks sooooooo cute! Oh my God Mr. Tattoo Dude, you are totally amazing!!! Can we get them done now this minute? Do you have the time? Sure he does. But, wait. Bekah thinks that *maybe* she should consult Mr. Chellber first. I mean, she did promise him the next tattoo she got would be with him....
Don't be foolish! I say. What kind of woman are you???
"But I promised him...." she replies
"well, I've had lots of people promise me lots of things" I say.
"Lauer...I can't just get a tattoo without asking my husband"
"SURE you can!!!! And if you do it now, you can do it for 1/2 price with this dude!!!"
Well, we end up leaving without the tattoos, but we keep the picture of 2 peas in a pod and totally promise Mr. Tattoo Dude we are coming back to get it next week (which we never do).
*sigh* Some day, some day....
So, we say our goodbyes and shower Mr. Tattoo Dude with thanks for wasting a good 90 minutes with us, and then we end up not getting anything tattooed. We didn't even get anything pierced. LAME. We pull out of the tattoo parlor and get back on the freeway.
It is approximately 5PM now. We begin to accept that we aren't going to make it to JeNN's in time to go on the lake and do a little sunbathing before the demolition derby at 7PM. Speaking of which, jeNN has probably called Bekah about 3 times in the past 90 minutes. Opps.
Finally, 45 minutes later, at 5:45PM, we make it to the state line. But we ain't home free just yet. We need to stop and purchase booze for the weekend. We pop into "Stop a Sec" AKA "Stop for Sex". Selecting booze is never an easy task, especially in the summer because so many things are palatable. Then you always have the wild cards to consider, too. In our case, today it was "HEY do you know what would be awesome??? Buying 1 of every flavor of Boone's Farm in stock. Such a *great* idea. You know, because Boone's Farm doesn't give you total gut rot after like 5 sips...I also take a box of wine. We get a 24 pack of Miller Lite. And, just because we don't like to kid ourselves, a bottle of JD. That should hold us over for a night, we decide. We check out.
It's about 6:30PM now. We can go meet jeNN at her house. OR....we can pop over to Tiff and Damon's who only live right over there, and have a quick brew and then head on over to the Demo Derby. Then, we'll just call JeNN can meet us there. If isn't livid and still decides to be friend with us still, that is.
We will take the risk.
I've always loved road trips. There have been a couple of select awesome ones in the past…The winter my sister and I were driving home for Christmas from Boston, and we ran out of gas. In Buffalo. In a snow storm. Cruising along in the ol’ White Rabbit (Gio Metro) listening to my “Boston Blues” mix tape that had “If Winter Ends” on it by Bright Eyes over and over again. Both of us chain smoking bidis, or cigarillos, or cigars to stay awake -- because she refused to smoke cigarettes, but cigars and far eastern hand rolled cloves were ok. Staying at the skankiest motel ever (aside from Villa Verde in San Juan: “I’m scared these sheets will get me pregnant”) and the air conditioner was turned full blast and there was no knob to turn it down/off.
*sigh* Good Times.
But seriously, you do have to travel with people you love. You need to take a trip with a best bud who knows you well enough to email you first thing in the morning and ask if your going to leave your apartment today, because she knows otherwise you probably won’t; or a sister that will let you cling to her back like a spider monkey when you wake up at 3 A.M. with an air conditioner that you can’t turn off blasting on you. These are the people you travel with.
With that being said, there is just nothing quite like setting the cruise control and driving with the windows down in the summer, blasting some Queen. Or, blasting a particularly awesome mix CD your BFF made for you when you busted up with your boyfriend. Especially awesome if said BFF is riding shotgun.
A couple of summers ago, I picked up Chellber at roughly 9 AM on a Saturday in July. It was the third weekend in July, to be exact, because it was Watercross weekend and we were going to embark on the 120 miles journey from Minneapolis, MN to Grantsburg, WI. An easy 2 hour trip north and east on Highway 35. "Watercross" is perhaps the most ridiculous event ever created, and quite frankly I’m embarrassed at how excited I get for it. But, then again, it’s a weekend of World Class Drinking and Dancing (and usually at least one party at Huff’s). And, it’s a weekend of World Class Snowmobile Racing. How do people snowmobile race in the summer, you ask?
I have no idea. But they do it. I know it involves changing around some things on snowmobile so it can run better on water. But anyhoo, that’s beside the point. This story is not about snowmobiles. This story is about two people with A.D.D. who should not be told they need to get from point A to Z in X amount of time, because it just is never gonna happen.
Our first stop on this grand adventure was as we floated past a Best Buy. “HEY, you know what would be awesome???, I ask, “if I got a new camera today!” Um, sure. Okay. No time like the present, afterall. We shuffle around Best Buy for about 45 minutes taking pictures of our boobs with the tester cameras, and I eventually buy one. About 30 miles and 50 random pictures later, we decide, HEY, you know what would be awesome? it would be AWESOME if we made our own Tshirts! We should totally stop at Walmart and buy iron on thingys and some white shirts!
We stop at Walmart. And because I have a new camera, we decide that HEY, you know what would be awesome?? To dress up in muumuus (those huge granny dresses), and scarves, and sunglasses! And purses, and shoes, and umbrellas! And then take pictures! So, for about 2 hours we patter around Wal mart, grabbing any and all fluorescent, floral, and leather items we see, and put them on and take pictures of each other. Because that’s awesome. I end up buying a straw hat which to this day I have never wore. We also get our supplies for this T-Shirt project that apparently we are going to do sometime this weekend between being drunk and…being drunker? It was as we are leaving Walmart Bekah’s phone rings (mine was already dead as i had forgotten my charger, as usual). She picks up:
Jenn: So, where are you guysssss?
Chellber: *looking at me fearfully* Um…Walmart?
Jenn: ....In Pine City?
Chellber: No,no…in Forest Lake…
Jenn: WHAT? But you guys are supposed to be hereeee! You said you’d be here between 10 and11! (it’s already around Noon and we've travelled roughly 45 miles)
Chellber: We are on our way!
We hop back in the Fuckus (or, the "Focus") and Hit. That. Shit.
We were supposed to meet Jenn between 10 or 11 AM. Oopsie. We’ve been listening to Queen for about 3 hours now, so we decide to switch it up. Bekah digs through my CD case and finds the obligatory “break up mix” that every car must have, and that she has made for me, and pops it in. We listen to a couple tracks, and then on comes “Du”, by David Hasselhoff. Umm…ok. Sure. Never really thought to put on a "Break Up" mix CD, but it seems appropriate. But then again it’s in German and I have no fucking clue what he is saying. But, no matter. We “sing along” for a couple of verses in our fake German, and it goes a little something like this:
“Duuuuu…died in an alley, this is Nietzsche feeling Zaza….Duuuuu with the otter, we will feeelllll….DUUUU….do I like Nichteze when he standsssss….Duuuuu do you steal hair from the man...Du, yes my name is Don Shaun….”
And so on and so forth, until we are laughing so hard that I have to stop so we can pee. I pull off at the next exit and stop the car. But wait. What is this place? Why is it so familiar? Is the same town where we got our first tattoos, back in our days of being young and impressionable and the kind of kids who got tattoos without telling their parents! Remember that??? That was awesome. HEY, you know what would be awesome? If we got another tattoo!!!! Let’s go get a tattoo!
To be continued....gotta go buy some brown sugar now.
Okay, back. 4 days later....no, it didn't take me that long to buy friggin brown sugar. Though...if you want to get specific about it, I did get some brown sugar of another kind, What! (insert Barney Stintson voice here).
Anyway. So, we decide that we absoutely, positively, MUST get a tattoo immediately. It is imparative. This trip will not be completely without a new permanent marking on our bodies to commemorate this trip. So, now we are roughly 1/2 way to our destination and it's about 3PM. we said we would be there at 10 or 11AM.
We pull into the tat parlor and starting browsing around, debating what would be wise to get inked on us. I am debating between a black spade and Chellber is thinking about a little mushroom to go next to her ladybug or something. We talk prices with Mr. Tattoo Dude, who happens to be an apprentice so the work will be HALF OFF. "That is amazing!" we say! Hey, you know what would be totally awesome to get??? We should totally get a matching tattoo!!!! Like 2 peas in a pod!!!! Hey, Mr. Tattoo Dude, can you draw us a little something like that????
He sure can! He grabs some pencils and goes to work, and about 30 minutes later shows us what he has. The first draft looked a little like a vagina, so we asked him to refine the shape slightly so it didn't look so much like a Georiga O'Keefe painting. He does, and then it looks sooooooo cute! Oh my God Mr. Tattoo Dude, you are totally amazing!!! Can we get them done now this minute? Do you have the time? Sure he does. But, wait. Bekah thinks that *maybe* she should consult Mr. Chellber first. I mean, she did promise him the next tattoo she got would be with him....
Don't be foolish! I say. What kind of woman are you???
"But I promised him...." she replies
"well, I've had lots of people promise me lots of things" I say.
"Lauer...I can't just get a tattoo without asking my husband"
"SURE you can!!!! And if you do it now, you can do it for 1/2 price with this dude!!!"
Well, we end up leaving without the tattoos, but we keep the picture of 2 peas in a pod and totally promise Mr. Tattoo Dude we are coming back to get it next week (which we never do).
*sigh* Some day, some day....
So, we say our goodbyes and shower Mr. Tattoo Dude with thanks for wasting a good 90 minutes with us, and then we end up not getting anything tattooed. We didn't even get anything pierced. LAME. We pull out of the tattoo parlor and get back on the freeway.
It is approximately 5PM now. We begin to accept that we aren't going to make it to JeNN's in time to go on the lake and do a little sunbathing before the demolition derby at 7PM. Speaking of which, jeNN has probably called Bekah about 3 times in the past 90 minutes. Opps.
Finally, 45 minutes later, at 5:45PM, we make it to the state line. But we ain't home free just yet. We need to stop and purchase booze for the weekend. We pop into "Stop a Sec" AKA "Stop for Sex". Selecting booze is never an easy task, especially in the summer because so many things are palatable. Then you always have the wild cards to consider, too. In our case, today it was "HEY do you know what would be awesome??? Buying 1 of every flavor of Boone's Farm in stock. Such a *great* idea. You know, because Boone's Farm doesn't give you total gut rot after like 5 sips...I also take a box of wine. We get a 24 pack of Miller Lite. And, just because we don't like to kid ourselves, a bottle of JD. That should hold us over for a night, we decide. We check out.
It's about 6:30PM now. We can go meet jeNN at her house. OR....we can pop over to Tiff and Damon's who only live right over there, and have a quick brew and then head on over to the Demo Derby. Then, we'll just call JeNN can meet us there. If isn't livid and still decides to be friend with us still, that is.
We will take the risk.
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