The Show Must Go On OR German Engineering My Ass (523 hits)
Category: NoneRating: -0.9 on 13 reviews (Rate this item) (V)
Submitted by Cunning Vision (View user info) at 2006-06-13 07:41:15 EDT
It was Saturday, my car was washed and waxed, I had two tickets to a concert and nothing, absolutely nothing, was going to stop me from going.
Back in 1999, I had a black Volkswagon Cabriolet. I loved that car. Forget the fact that it broke down once a week, leaked radiator fluid, constantly overheated if I was in standstill traffic for more than 3 ½ minutes. That piece of shit was still my favorite car of all time.
And this Saturday night, my Cabbie was going to take me and my brother, Darrell, to San Francisco's Cow Palace so we could attend a concert. I had bought the tickets the day before, just after getting my car out of the shop. When I picked her up, my mechanic, Hans, smiled and took another of my checks, saying, "See you later, Ben!"
Yeah. We were on a first name basis.
Darrell and I left our small town of Antioch, sped onto the highway, and talked about the show over the loud music blaring from my tinny speakers. My brother always turned up the volume until the speakers were about to blow. But tonight I didn't care. It was time to party! It was time for an adventure!
I didn't know how right I was.
Anyone who has been to San Francisco can tell you weekend evening traffic over the Bay Bridge is hell. Actually, the traffic is hell almost any day, but worse this particular night. Of course it would be. I was supposed to have fun.
We were approaching the bridge around 6:30 that night. It was already dark, and the lights of Oakland glittered below us as we came up an overpass that eventually fell down to the toll booths. I was in the second lane from the right, cruising along, listening to some mix-tape that I had made the night before (you could always tell how much I was drinking during mix-tape sessions by how eclectic the song choices became), and laughing with my little bro.
The traffic began to move, I eased out the clutch, eased on the gas, and we lurched forward.
The car died.
"Shit, shit, shit!" I yelled. The car behind waited patiently for about 12 seconds, then began bashing on his horn. "Shit!"
"What's going on?" my brother asked. He kept looking behind us.
"Dude, I don't know. I just got this heap out of the shop yesterday. What the hell?!"
Horn Man finally drove around us. He honked again as he passed and I waved an apology with one finger.
"Hey bro, what's going on?" Darrell again.
"DUDE! I said I don't know!" I kept turning the key, hoping something would happen. Then I got down to desperate measures:
I said prayers - "Dear God, my car is broke down. Oh yeah. You can see that. Well, can you start it up? I'll give up drinking beer... well, too much beer, anyway. God?"
I talked to the car - "C'mon baby. Just one more time for Benny-boy. Please? I promise to rotate your tires tomorrow ... Why won't you listen to me?"
And I punched the steering wheel - "WHY? WHY? I hate this car! AAaaaaggghhh!"
The punching must have worked, because I turned the key again, and it started right up.
"What did you do, bro?"
"It was magic. Listen, we just have to make it up the overpass, then we can pop the clutch if it dies on the downward slope."
"Maybe you should get in the right lane."
"Good idea."
I merged into the right lane and we continued up the rise. I continued praying, begging, pleading, and we made it up the overpass. We even made it down the overpass without the car dying.
"We just might make it," I said to Darrell. "As long as the traffic keeps moving, we..."
The traffic stopped. My car stopped. Shit, shit, shit!
"Dude, what happened?"
"Stop asking that, man."
The car died as the highway leveled out before the toll booths. Another road was merging here, so I coasted the car over the triangular section between the merging lanes.
"We have to make it," I said, punching the steering wheel again.
"Maybe we should just go back."
"What? NO!"
I tried the ignition again. It started. I looked into the traffic. People were looking at us, no pity, no concern. Oh, there was annoyance, apathy. We were on our own.
I hit the gas, got into traffic, and headed slowly, every so slowly, to the toll booth. We were about two cars back from paying the toll-taker.
("God, please God, please God, please...")
Clutch, gas.
Stall.
This was getting old.
The toll booth worker saw our vehicle stalled there, smack dab in the middle of Saturday night traffic. He exited the booth, walked with the pace of someone who has absolutely nowhere to go, lowered the gate in our lane, walked back to his booth.
Just then the car started.
I sped up to the booth, rolling down my window on the way.
"Listen man," I said to the toll guy. "My car is pretty bad off right now. We have to hurry. She may die again. No time to wait. Here's the two dollars. Let's go!"
My urgency didn't get through. He walked out of the booth again, slowly raised the bar, as carefully as if he was raising the Titanic. He strolled back into the booth. I shook the two dollars at him. He took some rubber gloves out of a box, slipped them on, reached out for the money.
"Thanks. Open the gate. In a hurry. C'mon man!"
He hit a button to raise the gate and I sped through.
"We're gonna make it man!" I yelled to my brother. "With no toll booth blocking our path, the traffic should be moving along just..."
We screeched to a halt. The traffic was once again at a standstill.
The car sputtered out.
"NOooooo!"
I coasted over to the side of the road. We weren't to the bridge just yet. On our left were some small, stout yellow-buildings, on our right was the slowly moving sea of automobiles. I could just make out the city skyline ahead of us. The lights of the bridge beckoned to me like a million North Stars.
"We have to get there," I mumbled.
"Whatever you want to do," my brother said.
I tried the car one more time, and she started right up.
"O.k. bro, here's what I'm going to do. I'm going to get a good start on the side of the road, then merge with the traffic just before the bridge. Ready?"
"No."
"Let's go!"
I hit the gas, accelerating as quickly as the Volks would allow, watching the traffic over my right shoulder. I was going to make it, we were going to the concert. Faster, almost there...
"Watch out!"
I turned around just in time to see a loading dock in front of us. We were headed for the ramp at about 50 miles per hour.
Have you ever seen the Dukes of Hazzard? Well, "Yeee-haaaw!"
We launched off the ramp, all four wheels in the air. I was looking straight ahead, holding on to the steering wheel for dear life. I wish I could have seen the take-off from a different angle.
The car smashed down on the far side of the ramp, landing on its wheels. We coasted forward about forty yards. And then ... you guessed it ... she died.
Darrell and I sat there for a moment in a state of shock. Did we just do that? We were just floating through the air? Did I wet my pants?
A tow truck pulled up along side of us. The driver and I both rolled down our windows.
"Heard you guys were stalled out here."
"Uh, yeah."
"Well, I can tow you for free. But, I only go as far as the bridge. So, I can drop you off in Oakland, or I can take you into Frisco. What'll it be?"
The moment of truth. I could either accept defeat, get towed to Oakland, call my parents and ask for a ride back into town, or I could get a tow into the city and try to find a way to the concert.
My brother and I stared at each other a moment, shrugged and turned back to the tow truck driver.
"Let's go to the city."
He dropped all three of us off at the first exit after the bridge. Darrell and I stood there, in the darkness beneath an overpass, looking around. What the hell were we going to do now?
"Hey, I see a small shop open over there," I said, pointing to an intersection ahead of us. "Maybe they have a phone."
We walked toward the store, and as we got closer, realized it was closed. I felt anxiety setting in, when a taxi cruised by.
"Hey! Hey! We need a ride!" I yelled, jumping up and down for emphasis. Thank the heavens above, the cab stopped.
Well, we made it to the concert. And guess what? It wasn't all it was cracked up to be. I tried not to let it get me down. We had made it. That's all that mattered. Right?
Now we had to find a way back to the car. We exited the venue, and walked up to the nearest road.
Words like empty, desolate and lifeless came to mind as we stood there. The only traffic we saw was the exiting cars. No one would stop to pick us up. No taxis were around. We walked back to the Cow Palace.
At the gate, I asked the guy sitting by the fence if we could go back in and use the phone to call a cab.
"Sure. Just walk on in there," he said. "Where you guys headed?"
"Back to the Bay Bridge. My car is parked by the first exit."
"If you want, just give me $10 fo' gas and I'll take you there."
I looked at my brother. We were both tired and just wanted the night to end. This seemed like the easiest way to go about business, so we took the chance.
"Sure," I said.
The guy got up and walked over to two girls, one short and thick, the other tall and thin. Too thin. Crackhead thin.
"This way," he said to us. "We heading out now."
It didn't occur to me until much later that our new friend might not have worked at the Cow Palace as I had first thought. Ignorance is bliss.
All five of us walked over to a medium-sized motorhome. It was dark inside. I climbed into the front passenger seat, my brother and the two girls climbed in the back.
"What the hell?" someone said from the back. The lights came on and it was a large dude. Darrell had woken him up by kicking him in the dark.
"Don't worry," said the older man. "We just giving these guys here a ride to they car. Now sit down."
The younger guy sat down and we took off.
We stopped at a gas station on the way. I handed over $10 and the young guy got out to pump the gas. The old guy put in a CD of Otis Redding's greatest hits. He then set the CD case on the control panel between us and took a bag out of his pocket.
"I don't normally do this, but it's my birthday," he said. He poured out some white powder onto the CD case, pulled a small straw from the same pocket, and snorted it up.
"Uh... Happy birthday," I said.
The young guy jumped back in the car and we started off again.
About four blocks from where the tow truck had left my car, I said, "Oh, it's right here. Thanks, man! Appreciate the ride!"
"Where's the car?" the old guy asked.
"Um... it's around here. This spot's good enough. You've really helped me out. Have a good birthday. Darrell let's go."
We jumped out and stood at the corner until they were just about out of sight.
"What the hell..." my brother said.
"I know, dude. I know."
We got to the car. I didn't know what we were going to do, but I considered sleeping in it if we needed to. I was exhausted, a little pissy, and a somewhat scared.
I got behind the wheel, put the key in the ignition.
It started right up. In fact, it worked fine all the way home.
You know, if I wasn't so busy cursing, punching the steering wheel, and begging God to help my car get us to the concert, I might have heard The Man Upstairs say, "Ben, you really shouldn't go."
User Reviews
Submitted by JonnyX (user info) at 2006-06-13 18:14:32 EDT (#)
Ranking: 1
Submitted by gonefiguring (user info) at 2006-06-13 07:45:20 (#)
Ranking: -2
Careful when you post. I had a friend that was killed by a giant block of text like this. It fell on him. Just fell right on him, and crushed him. Sad.
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I really did like this story, though
Submitted by Ingsoc (user info) at 2006-06-13 13:41:15 EDT (#)
Ranking: -2
-2 OR -2
Submitted by Orgasmatron (user info) at 2006-06-13 11:54:55 EDT (#)
Ranking: -1
SO THERE I WAS in a land devoid of Enter keys or line spacing.
The wet marshy earth beneath my feet bubbled and moaned like a hooker with dysentery, and I realized that I wasn't wearing my corset.
"This must be because of the snapbeans," Bastian exclaimed.
And he was right, much to the emperor's dismay.
Suddenly the phone rang.
And rang.
And rang.
So the midget babies picked it up, and saved the Clock Tower from a lightning strike.
It was the greatest thing ever done in the history of underpants.
But that fucker Burglecut was still out there, biding his time until the Era of Good Feelings drew to its eventual close.
Submitted by BobLobla (user info) at 2006-06-13 11:41:02 EDT (#)
Ranking: -2
Submitted by CunningVision (user info) at 2006-06-13 09:45:22 (#)
Ranking: -2
Did use enter key, but cut and paste from word to here didn't work out. Oh well. On with the -2s.
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As you wish, it hurt my eyes...
Submitted by CunningVision (user info) at 2006-06-13 10:25:04 EDT (#)
Ranking: 0
Oh, and chipo, it was Red Hot Chile Peppers with 311 opening. Nick Hexum was sick, so his voice cracked continually and they ended the set early. Then RHCP played a short set as well, with 14 year old girls holding lighters above their heads during Californication. Ugh.
Submitted by CunningVision (user info) at 2006-06-13 09:45:22 EDT (#)
Ranking: -2
Did use enter key, but cut and paste from word to here didn't work out. Oh well. On with the -2s.
Submitted by ubetidid (user info) at 2006-06-13 09:34:06 EDT (#)
Ranking: 0
a day in the life of...
what was your name again?
Submitted by sicosemen (user info) at 2006-06-13 08:44:12 EDT (#)
Ranking: -2
Enter key meet Cunning Vision, Cunning Vision meet enter key.
Enter Key: Hey Cunning Vision, how are you?
CV: Hey enter key, you must be new here. Never saw you before.
EK: Oh no, I've been here since all of my other friends were invented.
CV: Oh, really?
EK: Yes, i'm right next to the "quote" and 'apostrophe' key, above the SHIFT key and below the \backslash\ and this unnamed ||key, and on my top corner lives the }]close content}] key.
CV: Silly me, I see you after all.
Submitted by sicosemen (user info) at 2006-06-13 08:39:17 EDT (#)
Ranking: -2
Here's what I got out of this: Wait, I didn't read it because you clearly don't know where the enter key is.
Submitted by TheSpook (user info) at 2006-06-13 08:11:39 EDT (#)
Ranking: -2
Summary: "I can't drive stick and ended up taking it all night from some San Fran fags."
Submitted by redskieslookfake (user info) at 2006-06-13 07:47:08 EDT (#)
Ranking: 0
Formatting.
Not well paced.
What was wrong with the car?
Submitted by chipolatte (user info) at 2006-06-13 07:46:41 EDT (#)
Ranking: 1
what band was it?
Submitted by gonefiguring (user info) at 2006-06-13 07:45:20 EDT (#)
Ranking: -2
Careful when you post. I had a friend that was killed by a giant block of text like this. It fell on him. Just fell right on him, and crushed him. Sad.