Spent the day doing fantastic distraction activities. Red Robin with Irene and Seth, then Twilight Princess at Seth's (yayy!). Rented The History of the World Part I but sadly, I got a bad case of the guilts and had to leave early. Which was totally pointless, because I haven't done anything except put away my laundry since.
The important information here is that if Irene moves away next year (which, mean as it is, I really hope she doesn't. I don't want to live alone!!)... If she moves away next year she'll sell me her truck. Personally, I've never seen myself as a truck girl. That was always Elaina's role. I drove the Buick! the Tank! The hulking machine of steel that could drive over tree stumps without hesitation (granted, I was high when it happened. Impressive, no?)
Buick reminiscing time begins: now! During the first summer of rowing, my crew buddy Michelle and I brought home some boys from an Alki Beach Party. The night went well, and the next morning found one still passed out in the back of my car while we went to practice. We came back from putting away the boats to find the boy's foot sticking out of the open door, trying to sleep despite the heat and the sun.
I used to take the Buick down to Elaina's once a month or so. The road trip itself was the best part. One time I attempted to pass a car, but misjudged the oncoming car and the Buick's ability to accelerate. Both cars swerved to the sides of the road, I gripped the steering wheel with wild eyes, and kept driving. At 16, I really put my life on the line.
Another time I snuck out to visit a friend in Tacoma. Come 3 am, we discovered that the Buick wouldn't start. So out came the tow truck, who kindly helped me stick the Buick in its usual parking spot out in front of the house. $150 and 2.5 hours later, I was home free. I stayed up that whole night and took the bus to school the next morning (after I "discovered" that the car wouldn't start.)
Another time the Buick broke down: when I drove up to Redmond to visit David and William. It died in an intersection, and the poor video gamers had to get out and push the car into the Jiffy Lube. The mechanics looked it over, said it was fixed, and not 3 minutes onto I-5 heading home, it died again.
More Buick stories, you say? Okay, Tuey's birthday, senior year. Picked up Cole from Shoreline, who proceeded to smoke pot the whole drive back. He even waved at the little babies in the minivans.
Incubus concert. Bob and I played in the fountain, then were too frozen to pay attention to the band. As soon as the last set was over, we booked it back to my car. Pulled the stolen picnic blanket out of the trunk, cranked up the heat, and sat quietly content in Seattle traffic while we slowly got feeling back.
The stolen picnic blanket, you ask? Well, Jon and I were having a terrible day. Actually, I think it was mostly just me. After sitting in the grass at Dumas Bay for a good hour, talking quietly and soaking in some late spring sunshine, we noticed that the people across the field had gone down to the beach. And left their blanket. Jon and I, both being the adventurous sort, and also in need of some excitement after a rather long-winded and depressing conversation, immediately knew what to do. We grabbed it and ran.
So where's the Buick now? Good question. July 3, 2005, Chanel and I drove up to Bellingham to visit Brent. We stayed up all night, doing usual wild young thing activities, and headed back to Fedtown around 9 am. (I had to work at 3, I believe.) Being all sorts of tired and cranky, I crawled into the backseat and let the girl drive. Unfortunately, the last automatic she'd driven was RJ's, and forgot that we had different settings. Yes, that's right. She took the Buick onto I-5 in Drive 2. After about 45 minutes, it gave up the ghost. We got it into a Rest Stop and proceeded to wait until my dad came to pick us up. Fortunately, the radio still worked, so we put on a CD and sprawled across the roof of the car. My dad arrived, called a tow company, and got us home in time for work that afternoon. The only souvenirs from that day are: a snapshot of the two of us sitting on the hood, and the Buick symbol on my keychain. Plus the heartbreaking reminder every time I pass that rest stop on the ride between Fedtown and Bellingham.
This post is disgustingly long, I apologize. The whole point in the first place was to talk about how I might be driving Irene's truck next year. I was eyeing the old pickup and had a genius thought. I could cart a dog around in the back of that thing.