March 6th, 2009

(no subject)

So have you ever been driving down the road in a beat down old truck that's loved dearly by its community of 'new-bohemian' owners and drivers, with a bed full of freak bikes, and all of a sudden your drivers side wheel just shoots right off? Well as of a few nights ago, I can officially say that I have.


Yup. Ethan, Sarah, and myself were on a mission around Burlington that E and I had been on for the greater portion of the day, picking up bikes that he had scattered and hidden around town for summer's re-arrival. Little did we know that we'd been driving around likely all day with no lug nuts on the drivers side wheel (for whatever bizarre reason), which after adding the last couple of bikes to the pile of ten or so, caused the entire wheel to shoot off. Not just fall off, my friends, shoot off. Suddenly it was as if we'd hit a gigantic pothole that we couldn't come out of, and I can honestly say that I had no idea what was going on until I saw the wheel just whiz past us like it was still on a car, between two parked cars, and right into the shrubbery of a house we'd just skidded past. We'd left a half inch deep line in the pavement for no less than 25 feet in the process of this blessed adventure that had just fallen into our laps, because here we were now in the middle of Spring Street, on three fucking wheels. In total disbelief, I stopped the truck with my jaw hitting the ground as Ethan jumped out and ran after the wheel giggling like a schoolboy. When Sarah and I followed, luckily the only thing any of us could think to do was start laughing. Hysterically.

Some of the community folk thought it a conspiracy, but I'd rather just sit back and relish in the fact that it didn't happen when we were going 65 on the highway and we're not all dead in a pile of 3-wheeled truck inferno right now. As for the repair, well we were lucky enough to knock on the door of a friendly redneck by the name of John, who was "a bowl and a couple Buds deep and happy to help." In chipper spirits because Nascar was on that night, John fetched his tools from his back shed and after about 45 minutes of manual labor, the wheel was back on the truck, lug nuts substituted with a few from the remaining wheels. We promised John a sixer of Bud tallboys which we still haven't delivered, and thanked our good fortune for not only giving us a good story, but also for not killing us in the process. I honestly don't think there's much that old truck could do to make me love it more.