- Back in High School my boyfriend and I would take our cars out and race. Over and over. And over again. So fun. "I won!" "No, I WON!" "Fine, lets do it one more time, and THEN we'll know."
- On the way home from practice (and especially if I was driving my dad's elcamino) my girlfriends, specifically Liz and Emili, would race to Summerville where we'd get into a made game of a combination of hide and see and tag. In our cars :) Vroooooom! Heads up! Round the corner, hear the tires squeal, spot the headlights ahead jetting off to the left, shove the pedal down, the car drops a gear and grips tight into the road, taking off after the 80's civic. Where'd she go?.... SHIT! Right behind ME! BUSTED! Swing to the right, head down the side road, still being chased! Lose her on the straight stretch!.....
- Before a home game with a couple hours to kill, we load up Rachel's car and jet off to the store to grab some eats - with a side trip through the MASSIVE mud puddle that slightly resembles a duck pond, out in front of Wagner's Seed. Forty golden and glorious minutes were spent screaming through that muddy pit of water full of debris. The first attack is always the best. Here you sit, eying the massive brown area unsure of its depth and what may lie beneath the surface, and two people in the front seat who regard those matters as small details... TROUBLE! Wicked fun, trouble. After the first blow we ventured beyond to find MORE mud behind the building and created quite the race course full of a blinded windshield and endless amounts of squealing laughter bolting from within and frantic glimpses of our lives coming to an end. Eventually I got greedy and the car came to a sluggish halt... Rache opened the passenger door when the backward forward motion wasn't getting us anywhere, and we found ourselves flush with the mud! HAH. Picture this.... four baller chicks in dress clothes (twas a home game people!) calf deep in mud PUSHING while the crazy one yells from within, "READY?! PUUUUUUUSH!" In the end, with an irreplaceable co-pilot like Rachel Lowe mastering the windshield wipers and myself behind the wheel disregarding the apprehensive comments we were un-stoppable. That puddle may have claimed R. Lowe's license plate and one or two(?) of the Prelude's hubcaps, but oh, we won the war, we SO won the war. And the game too, I believe.
- Lets see, Friday night after a basketball home game watching movies, Howard and I head out on the four wheelers for a night ride up the mountain. Ten minutes later, STUCK.
- Driving down Hunter after a stop in for a JBC(Junior Bacon Cheese), we pass a giant dump truck of sorts. Em hucks a cream packet at it. For the next twenty minutes we're hauling ass down any random route I can think of, through FIELDS even!, to try and outrun this maniac of a dump truck driver who is chasing us down!!!! ...."Amy maybe you should slow down" as we bump along a small rutted dirt road through some fields... "Nah, its okay, I've been on this road before." BAM! SLAM! WHAM. Off a bit of a hill and RIGHT down into a pot hole. Awesome. :)
- I'm sorry Em C, I didn't mean to do that in your car.
- Eight years old. I was writing/illustrating a story for school and wanted it to look professional so I asked our neighbors if I could please use their computer. I jump on the four wheeler, head on up, and got to work. Zoom on home. The story still stands, "That girl needs to slow down on that bike!" Same old problem. The is bound to get me into serious trouble someday.
- Late for school. Pour the milk in the bowl, hit the car, peek through the tiny opening in the frost at the bottom of the window. Drive the six miles to school with my knee. Perfection. Getting caught going 120? Not so perfect. Shameful and awkward dinner conversation that evening. I'm sorry Mom and Dad. I promise, I haven't done it since.
