Honestly, I'd pretty much forgotten about these. I was trying to clear up enough memory for my phone to stop being uncooperative, earlier today, and was reminded of a few amusing stories from some years back. Figured I'd share a couple.
My first car was a 1987 Datsun 510, given to me for free during my last year of high school because my next-door neighbor hit middle age, and decided to buy a shiny red Mercedes convertible instead. It... wasn't pretty, and a lot of things (like the radiator fan, the alternator, and the A/C) didn't work, but hey - free car. I'd just finished fixing up everything I could, and was on my way back from the mechanic who'd fixed the rest (not the A/C or paint job, mind you), when a wasp crawled up out of the dash and started violating my airspace. So I punched it.
...success?
The engine caught fire while I was driving to a work site just a few months afterward, so at least I never regretted not getting the windshield replaced. Sold what was left of it for almost enough money to make up for the spending on repairs.
During my freshman year of university, a year later, I was rooming with my older brother and his good buddy Chris Stagg. I had another car then, reasonably-priced and still functional to this day, but one night in particular I was out late when my brother decided that he wanted to go downtown. Chris Stagg felt like staying in and... doing whatever he did behind that door alone at nights, but he did grant my brother the key to his truck. Chris Stagg's truck key was electronic, one of the ones that unlocks the doors remotely with the push of a button, and it's safe to say that my brother probably shouldn't have been driving back because he ended up breaking it at some point. Also because Chris Stagg woke up the next morning to find this in his room:
Chris Stagg was amused instead of angry, since back then either Heineken was much less bad or we all had much poorer taste. I don't know what the rest of my brother's story was for that night, meaning I almost certainly never will, but the biggest question really isn't how he got a case of Heineken at 3:00 in the morning here. (Where it can't legally be sold at that hour). The real question is what Chris Stagg had been doing that night, not to have noticed his drunken roommate stumble in, clear half of his desk, write a note with his pen, set down a case of Heineken, stab a knife through it, and leave. (Not all necessarily in that order).
I don't expect to ever get a straight answer on that one, either.
My first car was a 1987 Datsun 510, given to me for free during my last year of high school because my next-door neighbor hit middle age, and decided to buy a shiny red Mercedes convertible instead. It... wasn't pretty, and a lot of things (like the radiator fan, the alternator, and the A/C) didn't work, but hey - free car. I'd just finished fixing up everything I could, and was on my way back from the mechanic who'd fixed the rest (not the A/C or paint job, mind you), when a wasp crawled up out of the dash and started violating my airspace. So I punched it.
...success?
The engine caught fire while I was driving to a work site just a few months afterward, so at least I never regretted not getting the windshield replaced. Sold what was left of it for almost enough money to make up for the spending on repairs.
During my freshman year of university, a year later, I was rooming with my older brother and his good buddy Chris Stagg. I had another car then, reasonably-priced and still functional to this day, but one night in particular I was out late when my brother decided that he wanted to go downtown. Chris Stagg felt like staying in and... doing whatever he did behind that door alone at nights, but he did grant my brother the key to his truck. Chris Stagg's truck key was electronic, one of the ones that unlocks the doors remotely with the push of a button, and it's safe to say that my brother probably shouldn't have been driving back because he ended up breaking it at some point. Also because Chris Stagg woke up the next morning to find this in his room:
Chris Stagg was amused instead of angry, since back then either Heineken was much less bad or we all had much poorer taste. I don't know what the rest of my brother's story was for that night, meaning I almost certainly never will, but the biggest question really isn't how he got a case of Heineken at 3:00 in the morning here. (Where it can't legally be sold at that hour). The real question is what Chris Stagg had been doing that night, not to have noticed his drunken roommate stumble in, clear half of his desk, write a note with his pen, set down a case of Heineken, stab a knife through it, and leave. (Not all necessarily in that order).
I don't expect to ever get a straight answer on that one, either.