Have you ever heard about trouble unfolding when certain people decide to hang out for an evening, day, luncheon or whatever? You know like when Person A runs into Person B and something totally ridiculous happens.
When I was a teen I was oft' banned from associating with this or that friend because something weird was sure to follow.
I am thinking that soon I will be taken aside by Perpetual or by Mother and told that I am forbidden to get into a vehicle with my friend Gregory Charles ______. I will not divulge his last name for his own protection and for reputation saving purposes.
Just a touch of background is necessary at this time. GC and I were childhood sweethearts and have remained very close over the years. He no longer lives in this region but visits about once a year. When he is in the area we tend to spend time visiting this or that person and/or dragging each other along for some kind of adventure.
G is a person in whom I have total trust and can impart every sordid detail of my life, much to his chagrin. I am super comfortable with this person and I enjoy his company to the max. In other words, we are total friends for life—not partial.
There is only one slight issue with all of the above. It appears that when this man comes to town and we decide to utilize any vehicle belonging to this family, said vehicle is sure to need a tow truck when all is said and done.
I shall now take you on a journey back in time to about one year ago, give or take, actually take because it was in the summer months. I will do so in the manner of actual story telling, just to jazz things up for you. (We all realize that I could use any and all help when it comes to making an attempt at entertaining my readers.)
One evening in a land not so far away, G and L were bombing along innocently on local dusty back roads, much in the fashion of two carefree teens. Suddenly there was a different feeling in the air. The whole atmosphere turned from fun to horror in a few seconds flat. Neither one of the people in the car felt secure anymore. Then, it hit them. The car was acting in an odd manner. It began to lose energy and scream for help. In other words, the vehicle was making hideous sounds and was clearly in distress.
After maneuvering to the side of the road, both G and L exited the mode of transport, lifted the hood and eventually discovered that there was NO oil contained within. After schlepping to the nearest house and garnering oil from the home owners, L and G began to add the substance to the car when, all at once, they realized that they were only contributing to the oiling of Route 6. Upon further inspection, G discovered that the oil pan was destroyed. Therefore, the oil made its way very quickly from the car directly to the road surface.
Homeowner ended up using his tractor to pull the Volkswagen into his driveway until it could be towed. After that, a fellow by the name of Rich Guiney was summoned to rescue G and L. (I guess I'm not giving Rich the same consideration that I gave GC. Honestly, I'm not sure why. I mean doesn't R deserve to be incognito? Now that I ponder, no one's names should be kept a secret but I think I'm digressing so this whole swerve off subject has served me well.)
Of course, Rich teased G and L mercilessly for acting foolish at their ages. The vehicle was towed the next day, fixed and then returned to the driveway of L.
Fast forward to the present day. G landed in town and was immediately whisked off to accompany L as she was a judge for a chili cook off at the Valley Inn located, for your convenience, in beautiful downtown Conneautville PA. After enjoying everything the facility had to offer, the two bozos climbed into Edna, (name of L's van), and began the journey out of Valley territory.
About two miles out, Edna began to sputter and spit. Pressing on the gas did absolutely nothing to urge her forward. Her lights became dim and she was clearly sending out distress signals. Even though the power steering was failing, she eventually landed gently, yet effectively, as far off the road as humanly possible. At that moment, G and L simply gazed at one another in sheer amazement as they fought the impulse to burst forth with laughter. Within seconds the battle was lost as a massive giggle attack ensued. Heads were even thrown back for good measure, mind you.
It was simply too bizarre and coincidental for that to happen two times in as many years. Therefore, it was difficult for the pair to summon much ire as it was par for their peculiar course.
After they reined in their laughter, they came to the realization that neither had brought along phones of a cellular nature. However, L did have her tablet, which connects to the internet. That was the gadget that would aid in their eventual deliverance from the traumatic situation in which they, once again, found themselves. (How am I doing in terms of story telling? Wait, don't answer that.)
The above-mentioned help arrived via Florida and Atlantic PA. You are not reading that wrong. You see, the private message area of facebook was the only hope in terms of getting word to Rich Guiney and/or Perpetual, (nickname of L's man).
L pondered for a bit as to who/whom might be perusing facebook on a Saturday evening. Two people came to mind, not because they lacked lives but because one has a bum ankle and isn't able to trip the light fantastic, just for one example. The other is always on the go but somehow manages to reply to messages even whilst cutting hair, mowing the lawn or showing a pig at the fair.
The Florida link, known as Cousin, reported back that she could not reach Rich. Twin, the Atlantic connection, also had to leave a message. After several minutes, Twin notified G and L that she had indeed reached, “your Rich Guiney,” (which is exactly how she imparted the news). She continued to say that he was laughing hysterically. At that point, G and L assumed that R was on his way. Turns out they were mistaken because he did not BELIEVE Twin. Evidently, he was under the false impression that they had convinced Twin to participate in some sick gag.
After he came to the realization that G and L really were in distress and had not conned Twin into playing a non-practical joke, he rode wildly to the scene of the incident, like a knight in, well, a pickup truck, actually.
Darling Edna had to stay all by her little lonesome on that dark and uninviting road. She remained there until - See G, L, and page 8
G,L. and
- from page 3
the next evening when, once again, a TOW TRUCK was used to deliver her to the shop.
Well, there you have it. I am leaving story telling mode and returning to the regularly scheduled method of column writing.
“Lisa and Greg are having car trouble and need rescued by Rich,” has now become an annual event. Just in case you were worried sick about sweet Edna, she is fine and dandy after having her alternator replaced.
The bottom line is that when Gregory Charles visits the next time, I am going to carry out preemptive strikes. Edna will be examined by a team of surgeons before we attempt a visit to the grocery store together.
In closing, I have to say that Rich Guiney has been elevated to hero status which I never, in a year of Fridays, thought possible. Also, kudos to Cousin and to Twin for your efforts concerning this most pressing issue of our day.
THE END.