25 replies to this topic

[beans-n-icewater]

My friend Shane just thought he was the lucky one. We both obtained our drivers license at sixteen, and his mom bought him a brand new Nissan pickup. It was exactly like mine except twelve years newer and didn’t require jumper cables and two quarts of oil every morning to get going. His also had modern conveniences like a heater, electric windows, speedometer, and an opening sunroof. Mine had a similar structure in the floor caused by rust, but the view of the road was hindered by the sunken floor mat. While I learned how to adjust valve clearances, solder radiators, replace u-joints, and patch leaky freeze plugs with JB Weld, he applied a coat of wax a day and kept enough Armor-all on the dash to blind oncoming traffic.


One thing disturbed him though. My truck was substantially quicker than his and would outrun him through the twisty roads of rural Arkansas. He claimed that the dense Pennzoil haze blocked his vision, but I knew that the lighter weight of 500 pounds of rusted sheet metal fallin off over the years and the slipping clutch that allowed the engine to wind up faster were the main reasons to my speediness. The fact that the throttle stuck to the floor and didn’t let me chicken out on tight corners was also a plus. The “General” (it was orange…shaddup) was a force to be reckoned with, both on the road and in the O’Rileys parking lot in a puddle of fluids… it’s and mine.


We took his ride on girl safaris though. Every Friday and Saturday night we cruised the Fayetteville strip lookin for a piece of tail. A full 90% of the time we failed, and the other 10% found a piece of my tailgate lying on the road. When we did find a couple of lovely ladies, we had a couple of lawn chairs for me and my date to sit in. Shane’s sliding rear window allowed conversation between the four of us and didn’t require removing several layers of duct tape to open. Even though that worked for a long time, the injuries Cynthia suffered the night after Shane decided to wax the bed of the truck put a stop to our double dating in the Nissan. The judge demanded it.


Everything was fine until the day he decided to challenge the General and me to another race. I was home polishing off the remainder of a six-pack of MGD bootlegged from a party my folks had the evening before. He joined me in looking for and consuming beer left in the fridge, coolers, and sometimes the trash can. Only cigarettes left in a bottle kept us from drinking the rest of the remaining suds, but once in a while Shane would get choked on something and pour black water from a bottle. I was too drunk to make fun of him, and to tell the truth didn’t care anyway. The taste wasn’t that bad. The racing proposition didn’t come to light until all the remaining booze that could be found was drank, including the cooking wine in the cabinets and the vanilla extract in the fridge. Our first DWI event was about to occur, and in a big, big way.


First, the route was planned. We were to start at my driveway and negotiate a series of twisty roads that included long straight stretches and hair-pin corners roaming through two counties and four police jurisdictions. The finish line was to be the Elkins parts store, where repairs to mine could be done if and when I made it there. Before we took off, Shane had the bright idea to let some air out of his tires for traction and remove the air cleaner for more horsepower. I countered his actions by putting air in my flat rear tire and adding three quarts of oil. The race was informally named the “Cindy500” after my fallen girlfriend and the combined miles left on all four tires before one of them blew off the rim. Shane glanced at my racing slicks with a hint of envy and the race was on.



I still have flashbacks. My heart was pounding and the sweat was pouring from my brow. I found new respect for the NASCAR drivers as the clutch, brakes, throttle, and shifter was used beyond what a street vehicle is designed for. I was running out of road in the middle of a maneuver and felt like the truck was getting away from me. At the last possible moment my concentration was broken by the screams of “JUMP IN THE GOD DAMN THING AND SEE IF IT’LL START THIS TIME…YOU’RE HEADED TOWARD THE ****ING MAILBOX!!!” The General back-fired twice and we were off.


I stayed in the lead most of the time, even letting Shane catch up a couple of times when he had to swerve to avoid a random empty bottle that found its way out thru a hole in the bed or floorboard. I had the aftermarket stereo turned up all the way to Def Leppards “Armageddon it” and was driving hard down the Tuttle road toward dead mans corner. Most places have a stretch of road called the same name due to a steep downhill straight followed by a sharp 90 degree turn. The General could take it an extreme speed helped by the passenger side brakes locking up before the others and acting like turning brakes. Shane had no such advantage other than the “liquid courage” flowing thru his veins and the ability to slow down with all four brakes. I was in the middle of the next corner when a loud “BOOM” overwhelmed the twin TRX-80 speakers tied on the dash with bailing wire. I pulled over and waited for Shane to materialize in the smoke, but my fears were right….he had crashed.


I was in shock as the overturned truck came into view. He had drove straight into a jagged bluff and was crawling out of the smoking heap thru the windshield that popped out on impact. Other than a few minor cuts and bruises, he was ok but the harsh reality of the situation set in and we decided to get the hell outta there. I drove us down the road to sober up and regroup at our fishing hole, and it was there that I came up with the story to get us off the “hook”.


Twenty years ago the DWI laws weren’t as serious as they are now. MADD was just getting started and the local cops in Arkansas logged more inebriated miles than most citizens, but the charges against Shane were still gonna be harsh. The fines would be bad enough but a seventeen year old with a DWI had about as much of a chance of getting laid without a car as the Pope… the previous one in fact. We didn’t have a snowballs chance anyway, but we had hopes and dreams. I conjured up a story about a four wheeler crossing the road in front of him, and quizzed him on the details of the tale on the way back to his house to call the cops to make sure he “remembered” everything.



Luckily the cop that investigated the accident didn’t pry too hard about the incident. He even found a random set of ATV tracks about where we said it was to our amazement. No tickets were issued and unless I’m wrong, I detected a hint of booze on his breath during the meeting. Now that I think more about it, we were all avoiding face to face contact and chewing gum like a kid in a barber shop. The truck was deemed a total loss and we went back to double dating in the General. We still laugh about it to this day whenever Shane comes over to help me work on my latest truck.


Just the other day, he was under the truck greasing the drive train for me and came back out with a garbage bag full of trash. When asked about where it came from, he said “I reached up thru the floor and cleaned under your seat!”


Some things never change…


The above story is 99% true. It actually happened in 1987. Only one name has been changed to protect the innocent. She is still in therapy.

[nell789]

:begins slow-clap:

[runthemover]

I am happy

[GWCGWC]

:joinsresoundingapplause:

[Shimmering Wang]

Some people- almost everybody that I went to college with that didn't go to my highschool- think drinking and driving stories aren't funny.

I think those people are pussies, and probably just need to lighten up a bit. Appropriately enough, Jerry got his first DUI about 2 months ago. It's safe to say it's long overdue. About a year ago, I asked him to estimate how many times a week, on average, he drives drunk. His answer: "Well, I guess if you count every leg of the trip? Probably 10-12. Only half of those are me fucking shitfaced, though."

God looks out for drunks and children.

God Bless you Shane and Jerry.

Wang

[Dr. Mario]

your life needs to be published.

number one seller without a doubt.

just sayin

[Shimmering Wang]

I have a feeling Cap'n Icewater couldn't even publish 90% of his lifestory, for fear of the reaction of the public (both general and specific). You'd better not die suddenly, man; you need to dictate all this stuff on your deathbed so it can get published posthumously. At least write as much of it down as you can and have it mailed to your publisher in the event of your untimely death.

Wang

[wsox8]

great story.

[Dr. Mario]

and be sure to leave me a corona-soaked napkin with your autograph on it.

it will be worth a fortune

[ricker]

an insta classic...

wow, just...wow

[Mercury69]

Da da da da da da da da da da da da da da da da da da

MORE CORONA!

[ajs510]

Brilliant Beans, I second the thought that you really need to write a book.

[JSHamm]

heart wrenching story. I laughed, I cried, I went to pee and get a cup of coffee. It was everything to me.

I really have no good DWI/DUI stories. I drove the wrong way on I-95 for about 10 minutes once, but suprisingly no cops were around. The only time I was pulled over, the cop gave me some BS story that I wasn't wearing my seatbelt and somehow he saw this from 100 ft away at 3:00 am. He asked me to get out of the car and started questioning me. Eventually, he asked my level of education, which I thought was odd enough. I told him I had a college degree so he asked where I went. I told him the college and he said he rememberd me from a bar we both used to go to a lot. Luckily, we were both heavy drunks at the time. He decided to give me a breathilizer (sp?) test. If I passed he'd let me go, if not he'd give me a ride home from there. I knew I failed the thing but he said he'd just follow me for a few miles.

[ajs510]

The only time I've ever come close to a DWI was on my way home from my brother's bachelor party in Niagara Falls. We started drinking at 8am that Saturday, lacing our Starbucks with Irish Creme before hitting the tables at Seneca for a poker tournament. Drinks all day at the tables, more drinks at lunch, more drinks in the van on the way across the border, 1-litre bottles of Coke emptied out halfway and refilled with Irish Whiskey, let's just say we were fairly trashed.

I can put on a sober face better than anyone I know, so I was nominated to haul the merry band back to Rochester (an hour and a half drive). Things started out badly when we were stopped at the border, told to kill the ignition and hand over the keys, then ultimately allowed to go once the border guards had their fun (they don't like it when you coast through the stopsigns, apparently).

30 minutes into the drive home (sticking to the backroads) I decided I didn't want to go the speed limit anymore, and since everyone else was passed out there was no one to tell me any different. Brought the van up to a cruising speed of around 75 MPH in a 55 zone, when all of a sudden I saw the familiar headlight configuration pass me in the opposite direction.

I knew immediately that I was getting pulled over, even before the cop's brake lights popped on as he did his U-turn to come after me. I picked up an untainted 1-litre of soda and started slamming it as fast as I could, swishing the soda around in my mouth to get rid of as much of the alcohol smell as I possibly could. Pulled over even before the cop hit the lights, as I've found they're much kinder when you don't give them any trouble. Killed the engine, put the keys on the dash, opened the window and turned on the overhead light.

3 minutes later the cop is at the window and its showtime. Like I said, I can act sober better than anyone I know, and if I don't want you to know I've been drinking, you'll never be able to tell. We get through the standard "license and registration" business, then he asks where we're coming from, if I've been drinking, etc. I told the officer I had only had a couple of beers that night, and nothing since 11pm since I knew I had to get everyone home safely (it was 2:30am by this point). He seemed to buy this, then threw me for a loop when he asked which clubs and casinos we had been in. My ability to act sober comes from my ability to anticipate the questions I'll be asked and rehearse the answers in my head before delivery, so when faced with a question I wasn't ready for I panicked a little bit and turned to my friend in the passenger seat for the answer.

Immediately the cop was right in my face. "Why are you asking him? You don't know where you were?" I tried to get an answer out that would sound convincing, when my buddy saved me with "He just doesn't want to admit that we were at the titty bars officer, that's all".

Whew. The cop unbelievably seemed to buy this, took my license back to his car to run it, and having found nothing out of the ordinary he let us go. No speeding ticket, no arrest, have a good night boys, drive safely.

Needless to say, that's the last time I ever drove when I knew I had no business doing so. Not proud of myself by any means, but I'm certainly glad I didn't have to go through the whole DWI process. For my bachelor party, we're getting a damn limo.

[fatman]

Instant classic beans

[Jeepster80125]

Fantastic post.

I wonder when dane will be in here telling you what a bad person you are.

[fatman]

Fantastic post.

I wonder when dane will be in here telling you what a bad person you are.

It seems that after all the **** Dane received he hasn't been doing that anymore. Actually, instead of always telling people to google he is giving helpful links.

[Shimmering Wang]

It seems that after all the **** Dane received he hasn't been doing that anymore. Actually, instead of always telling people to google he is giving helpful links.

Why don't you just marry him, then?

[ajs510]

He does seem to handle public mockery rather well, he must have a fair amount of practice at it.

[beans-n-icewater]

Thanks to all for the kind words...



This is just the beginning of the Shane stories. He's wrecked at least five trucks in a similar fashion. Drinking was involved in every case.



I'm kinda in the "tellin" mode this week, so I'll jot down another one or two before my Christmas trip.