Like Thelma & Louise

I started this back in October and it has sat as a draft ever since... Seeing as I'm out of town this week I thought it would be a perfect time to finish some old post and have them post while I'm gone..... all for your enjoyment of course!

So I am lucky enough to say that my mom is one of my best friends and it seems the older I get the closer we become. Maybe it's because I realize that maybe, just maybe, she isn't always wrong and maybe she is smarter than I gave her credit for during my teen-"I know everything"- years. Maybe its because we are alike but either way we always laugh together.

Today was no exception.

Today my Grandfather turned 89 a milestone that we planned to celebrate by cooking out. My mom, Grandpa, and Uncle had ventured out to a local festival and as I sat at mom's waiting on them to arrive a light bulb goes off. CRAP!!! I had borrowed the grill and it was now at my house 45 minutes away....... CRAP!!!! Its been raining and really I don't want to cram the grill in the back of the 4Runner so I figure I will take the old barn truck.

Like most great ideas ~ It sounds good in theory.

I go down to the barn and slide behind the wheel of the old 90's model Ford F250. I slide my purse behind me so that it gives my short legs just that extra boast to push the clutch all the way in.

I crank the key and it rumbles to life. My 5'0 flat midget self can barley see over the steering wheel so I'm sure to any observer I look rather strange barely peaking over the steering wheel.

I shift the old truck into first and head on my way. The needle hand is precariously close to E so I stop to get gas. I realize I don't have my wallet..... purse but no wallet. Can we say CRAP!! The Irish luck though reminds me I have $15 cash in my pocket. So I put $10 bucks in gas in the truck, keeping $5 in my pocket "just in case" (what I plan to do with $5 in an emergency I have no idea, but $5 seems better than $0).

I climb back in the truck... push in the clutch... turn the key..... and nothing. NOTHING. Will not crank.

I take a deep breath and try again.

Nothing. Not even a clunk.

CRAP!

I'm now sitting at the gas pump, in a beat up old farm truck that won't crank. There is a brand new Esclade at the next pump over. Yes in my barrel racing t-shirt, Ariet baseball cap, jeans, and tennis shoes I am setting a fine example of Southern goddesses.

I try again. Still nothing.

I call mom. She says they are about 10 minutes away.

I decide to give it one more go. I put the truck in neutral, one foot holding down the brake, I turn the key and start pumping on the gas as hard as my little leg can pump. VVVVRRRRMMMMMM it rumbles to life.

YES!!! I do a quick victory as I shift into first never letting my foot off the gas.

I call mom to tell her the good news. My mom is a worrier - plain, simple, cold hard fact. She tells me to wait there and she'll ride with me. What she thinks she can do if I break down is beyond me but I sit in the parking lot truck in neutral foot on the gas - and wait.

I look at the fuel gauge... its still on E. Damn it man! I curse in my head and then common sense kicks in and I realize the truck has 2 tanks and I put gas in the other tank. I flip the switch and miraculously have gas.

The family arrives. Mom climbs in the passenger seat and Grandpa and Uncle continue on to mom's house.

Mom and I started the drive to my house to get the grill. Things are going good. We get the grill and are heading back. Now mind you this is about a 40 minute drive one way.

I have the radio going singing along. Mom requests for me to stop at the same gas station as before so she can pick up some drinks for the cook-out.

I stop and sit in the car as she runs in. The truck starts puttering. I throw it in neutral and with one foot on the brake I start tapping the gas with the other. The engine roars in response. My mom comes out of the store a bewildered expression on her face as I wave my arms frantically telling her to hurry. Like a sinking ship I know the truck isn't going to last long. According to the battery gauge we are dying fast.

I throw it in first and gun it. We are seriously Thelma and Louise style as I peel out of the parking lot never taking my foot off the gas (even while shifting). Mom has a death grip on the "oh shit" handle with one hand and is frantically trying to fasten her seat belt with the other.... a task that would have been much easier if she would have let go of the handle, but oh no!

Now mind you we live in the mountains. Curvy roads and hills.

Now imagine a old pick-up truck racing around those with a driver so short all you can see is the knuckles on the steering wheel and a woman in the passenger seat holding on for dear life a look of utter panic on her face.

"Don't let off the gas!" My mom says as I start to tap the brakes at a curve.

We come out of the curve and start down a windy hill, "SLOW DOWN!!!" She cries.

"Well make up your mind!!" I yell.

We both laugh. I mean really what do you do.

We arrived at the barn safely. Both of us still laughing hard from the Thelma and Louise experience.

I love my mom.

Thelma, "Are you sure we should be driving like this, I mean in broad daylight and everything?"

~ Thelma and Louise ~