Time to lighten the mood.
This is a true story. Every detail is true and can be corroborated by eye witnesses. There is even a police report in some file out there in court house land.
BWAHAHAHAH!!! even just thinking about it cracks me up.
First let me introduce you to Hellfire. a Mercury Montago. I was in my twenties and this was my wheels. Take note of the chicken barn behind the car, and all the fat chickens. That is also my travel trailer on the far right. Those trees above it are where the chickens like to roost. Oh, and that is my man Troll strutting the cat walk there.
Um yeah....I have a prior history for painting vehicles....
He also had the most coolest Gum Man on the dash. There was a split on the dash and I put gum in one day when it was super hot to see if it would bubble up into a monstrosity. Then the kids started adding theirs. The man joined before too long.
But I digress...
It was a spring day a long time ago when I lived on the farm. Probably circa late 1990 long before I was disabled by the OJI.
I was unable to sleep in my trailer because of the heat. I went into the house and watched TV for a bit, then announced I was going to the store for a Pepsi.
I got in Hellfire and made it the top of the street we lived on and the engine chugged and died as I stopped at the stop sign.
I freakin blew a mental gasket. I HATE HATE car trouble. Nothing pushes me over the edge like it.
I tried to get it to start and as my anger mounted I finally had to turn on the hazard lights and admit defeat. I got out and locked the door and slammed it shut.
Okay fine, I am going to use my therapy skills and deal with this problem rationally. I will ask for help.
I started the hike back to the house. Occasionally looking back at Hell fire and its blinking lights. The anger was building and stewing with me. I had planned to go into the house and ask Farm grandma for help. But each time I glanced back at the car the more furious I became.
I walked into the house.
"You got your Pepsi already" Farm Grandma asked.
"Nope." I snarled and went to the junk draw in the kitchen and yanked it open. I grabbed the hammer and headed back out of the house.
"where you going now?" she asked.
"Car broke down, I am going to fix it." I said raising the hammer so she could see it. And left before she could comment.
By then it was growing a bit dark as the sun was setting.The hazard lights blinked a taunting message "ha - ha" "ha - ha" in the distant as I made my way back up the 1/2 of a mile road, to the car.
We had worked on expressing anger in therapy, letting it out vs keeping it bottled up. That's is when I finally snapped and started running. I had one thing on my mind as flew up the road.
I am so going to put those *&^^%$^$&^ hazard light out when I get there.
And this what I did. Two fast swing of the hammer and they went out. The action tripped the mercury switch in me and I lost it completely. I screamed and ranted and went around Hellfire beating the crap out of it with the hammer.
It was a life time of rage and anger and pent up emotions spewing out in a toxic volcano of hammer blows and screamed obscenities.
Then in a blink it all dissipated. I was left standing on the road holding a hammer. My mind cleared instantly. I was panting like I had just ran a marathon. I leaned against the car and started chuckling.
Oh Richard, you were right when you told me that someday I would find my trapped emotions.
The absurdness of what just happened and the laughter turned into hysterical belly laughter.
"Okay P" I told my self, "now lets go ask for help."
I made it down the road to the drive way before I saw the police round the corner and pull up next to Hellfire.
Rafff. I did an about face and started back.
About this time it finally clicked in Farm Grandma's head, that there isn't much in the way of car repairs that one can do with a hammer and she sent one of the boys to see what was going on.
The police headed my way so I backed up and waited for them at the drive way.
The stopped a fair distance from me and an officer stepped out staying behind the open door and shined a flash light on my face blinding me. He mumbled something I couldn't hear.
"What?!" I asked gesturing with my hands that I couldn't make out his words.
He adjusted the flash light off my face and put his hand on this holster, and very slowly and calmly said. "MA'AM. PUT. THE. HAMMER. DOWN."
I glanced at my upheld hand with the hammer still there in it. Oh shiiiiiiiit I am going to get gunned down for threating the police with a hammer. I dropped it like a hot potato. "Hah...sorry, I'm part Italian I talk with my hands."
He approached me with his hand still on his holster and kicked the hammer away from my feet. "we received a report of a tall man beating up a car with a hammer." He said looking down at me. All 5 foot 6, 115 pounds of me.
I laughed nervously. "No man involved it was me, that's my car. It died on me and I beat the crap out of it. I hate car trouble." I looked at him with innocent doe eyes.
He looked at me like I was insane, then hollered back to the driver of the back up unit. "This is our tall man right here!" and cracked up laughing.
...and that when the boy farm Grandma sent to check on things showed up. The very tall boy.
Flashlight swung and they grilled him like he was my accomplice. As if this young man didn't already think I was a total freak, hah!
Once they ran the plate and found it was indeed my car they shook there heads and we joked about women and car repairs. The officer paused for a second before getting in the squad car. "Tell me why a hammer?"
"There wasn't enough extension cord to use the power saw." I grinned.
He laughed and climbed in and left.
The boy and I went and collected the battered Hellfire and pushed him to the drive way where Grandma was waiting. He left us and Grandma and I continued the job.
Of note the drive way is filled with holes from puddles. Also its exactly 1/10 of a mile and is fenced on the right side for about 1/2 of it and all that is on the left side is a single telephone pole.
One single lone telephone pole.
So Grandma digs in behind the car and I have the drivers door open and I am steering with one hand as I push on the frame with my hand and right shoulder.
I clear the pole with the front of the car by about 8-9 inches max.....totally - TOTALLY FREAKING FORGETTING ABOUT THE DRIVERS DOOR THAT IS HANGING OPEN TO THE LEFT OF ME. My only thought was: don't hit the pole with the car.
Thank heavens that the sound of the door striking the pole caused me to straighten up and move my neck out of the door jam. In the next second the forward motion of the vehicle caused the telephone pole to shut the door.
There was no stopping or escaping. It was a sensation like nothing I have felt before or ever want to feel again. I literally got shut in the door. It was in a weird slow...smooth motion too. arm - shoulder - ribs - collar bones - neck.
You don't have time to scream as the air is crushed out of you, you just make a horrific squeal like a hamster being violated in a perverted manner. The pain levels go off the charts...my mind had just enough time to think, oh shit I'm gunna die...and the door cleared the pole and swung open.
I toppled to the ground and laid there trying to catch my breath while farm grandma stared on in horror. My heart was beating all crazily from the unorthodox chest compression it had just received. Oh thank goodness she was there to keep the car moving. The wheels had settled in one of the many holes in the drive way.....she had pushed it past the pole. I just came frighteningly close to crushing my self to death.
When I could speak I lifted my head and addressed the car. "What... was that Hellfire?! ...retaliation for me hammering you?!"
It took a few minutes before I was able to sit up and access the damage. I was numbed by the sudden adrenaline flow and other then feeling like I was still being squeezed. I couldn't tell if anything was broken.
"Someday" Grandma nervously giggled "this will be funny."
"No," I wheezed, breaking up "this is funny now!"
We continued our task. THIS time I sat INSIDE hellfire with the door closed and Grandma pushed him alone. Once parked in the yard I went with her to the house to fill her in on the complete Pepsi saga. We laughed and laughed at the absurdity of all of it. None more then when I lamented "...and I still didn't get my @&*(^&%^9$# Pepsi!!"
Did I go to the ER? I didn't have insurance at that time. So no. Matter of fact I had to work that night so I went out to my trailer to lay down for a little bit. As I stood there unlocking it the chickens who roost in the pine trees above my trailer started cackling and then ....shit right on my head.
I sat down on the trailer step and HEE-hawed till I was crying as the chicken poop ran down my head. As if this little life adventure needed anymore comedy added to it.
Back to the house for another round of laughter and a shower.
I should have taken pictures of the bruises...they were spectacular.
Years later when I did have insurance and I went to the doctors because for muscular chest pain that would not go away, he carefully palpitated along my rib cage where I had been crushed. He guessed I broke at least three ribs, and mangled the cartilage that attaches them to my sternum. As I showed him the results of effect on my collar bones he winced. "Ow! that must have hurt really bad."
Yup. All healed without proper treatment. Being young and dumb I had just ignored it all and didn't even miss a single day of work. I am left with some lingering after affects that plague me now as arthritis has set in.
And Hellfire? He never ran again. Didn't need a mechanic to diagnose cause of death either. Two days prior the Pepsi/Police event I had drove him to the coast and back (4 hours round trip) without any oil in him. His death was ruled a murder. He was offed by a stupid young girl, who has since learned the importance of oil in cars.
...also of note is ....no one will go on Pepsi runs with me anymore...bwahahahahha! cowards!