So a couple weekends ago, Mom and Pops let KB, Devan and I take their car. Ahem. So, we get in the car, I turn it on, and it's beeping madly at me. I put on my stinking seatbelt so it will shut up. It doesn't. The headlights aren't turning on, either. AND, I can't find the stinking light on the inside of the car so that I can see where to turn on the headlights. Oh yeah, and the car is still beeping at me. I yell at KB to put on her (insert expletive here) seatbelt, only she already has it on. I yell at Devan in the back seat. The madness is beginning to take hold because I can't see, the stinking car won't quit beeping at me, and I can't find out how to turn on the headlights...and I'm still in the driveway. Oh yeah, and I'm wrapped up in a blanket I stole from my brother since my coat was in MY car.
So I call Daddio to the rescue on his phone inside the house...which is 15 feet away...
The knight in shining armor comes out
and asks what in the H-E-double hockey sticks I did to not let the headlights come on (they are automatic, apparently). He leans in the car, pulls out the knob, and turns on the headlights. At this point, I had put it back in park so the beeping had stopped. We applaud, hoot n holla as Dad walks back inside...I put it in reverse...and the beeping continues. I scream. I try to put it in drive, but it won't go. It finally dawns on me that there is a bright red light on the dash that says "BREAK" all lit up like a Christmas tree...yadda yadda yadda, the beeping stops, and we laugh our faces off. Apparently Dad had too much faith in me and had assumed I'd already released the emergency break. He should know better.
This reminded me of another time Dad had to help me out...(one of many, mind you...)
Let me take you back to 1997...ish...
I was either 15 or 16 (let's not lie, I drove when I didn't have a license...shhh...) and was driving the Ford Aerostar with Becky Walker. Yes, I said Ford Aerostar...an '88, to be exact. It was super sweet. Since I was new to the whole driving thing, I nearly had a conniption when the "check engine" light came on. I thought I had done something wrong...(I mean, not that I killed it multiple times or anything...Becky do you remember when I kept killing it at the stoplight? I was half-way out in the intersection when the light turned red and everyone had to wait for Becky and I to switch places...) Yeeaaah. So. Back to my story. The check engine light was on, I didn't know what to do, so we pulled over to Becky's house and called mi padre.
Daddio seemed to think that I needed to check the oil, and told me to call him back after I did so. Piece of cake, right? So, we go and check the oil. However, I was having issues with the dip stick thingy...I called my dad and told him that I couldn't get the dip stick to go down the hole to check the oil. I was told to wiggle it around a bit, and that sometimes it just gets stuck. So, I wiggled it around a bit, but the piece of crap wouldn't move another inch. I called my dad two more times before I told him that it was stupid and that I was coming home so that he could check the stinking oil.
Daddy dearest: "What, exactly, are you doing? Tell me exactly what you did."
Me, in exasperated irritation and mocking tones (I'm very good at this...): "I took the dip-stick out of the holder, I opened the lid that said "OIL," and I put the dip stick in. What the crap do you think I did."
Daddy dearest: (Laughing hysterically)....(still laughing hysterically)...
Pretty much, he called me an idiot and informed me of the proper way to check the oil. Just for the record, Becky didn't know either. And doesn't it seem logical to check it that way??? (please humor me...)
I was either 15 or 16 (let's not lie, I drove when I didn't have a license...shhh...) and was driving the Ford Aerostar with Becky Walker. Yes, I said Ford Aerostar...an '88, to be exact. It was super sweet. Since I was new to the whole driving thing, I nearly had a conniption when the "check engine" light came on. I thought I had done something wrong...(I mean, not that I killed it multiple times or anything...Becky do you remember when I kept killing it at the stoplight? I was half-way out in the intersection when the light turned red and everyone had to wait for Becky and I to switch places...) Yeeaaah. So. Back to my story. The check engine light was on, I didn't know what to do, so we pulled over to Becky's house and called mi padre.
Daddio seemed to think that I needed to check the oil, and told me to call him back after I did so. Piece of cake, right? So, we go and check the oil. However, I was having issues with the dip stick thingy...I called my dad and told him that I couldn't get the dip stick to go down the hole to check the oil. I was told to wiggle it around a bit, and that sometimes it just gets stuck. So, I wiggled it around a bit, but the piece of crap wouldn't move another inch. I called my dad two more times before I told him that it was stupid and that I was coming home so that he could check the stinking oil.
Daddy dearest: "What, exactly, are you doing? Tell me exactly what you did."
Me, in exasperated irritation and mocking tones (I'm very good at this...): "I took the dip-stick out of the holder, I opened the lid that said "OIL," and I put the dip stick in. What the crap do you think I did."
Daddy dearest: (Laughing hysterically)....(still laughing hysterically)...
Pretty much, he called me an idiot and informed me of the proper way to check the oil. Just for the record, Becky didn't know either. And doesn't it seem logical to check it that way??? (please humor me...)
