- A FUNNY STORY FROM THE PAST
This story takes place when I was about 15-16 years old. My mother and I were driving back from the golf range where she would happily take me whenever I needed some practice. I was a pretty good golfer in the day and tried to get to the range as much as possible. Looking back on those days I realize how my mother would just sit there and read a book for an hour or two while I smacked 275 yard drives (no shit I'm serious). Pretty nice of her.
One day coming back from the range we were driving along Candlewood Lake Road in New Milford, CT. The thin stretch of road before reaching my childhood home is quite beautiful on a summer day, with the sun dancing off the water's top.
We were driving along in her Brown 85 Toyota Camry as we came upon a jogger who was on his daily run. As I mentioned in the previous paragraph, the road is a bit narrow. It was a beautiful day too. You remembered I said that, right?
So anyway we hit the jogger with her car because there was another car coming in the other lane and there was not enough room or time to swerve or slam on the brakes. In my mom's defense it happened so quickly that there was nothing else she could have done other than clip the car which would probably have been a much huger accident still involving the jogger. The road being narrow as I mention for the third time now, allows enough room for two cars but doesn't really offer a shoulder for say a jogger or hot dog cart.
The man tumbled down the hill. But just a little bit.
Now if I was fabricating this tale I would have ended it with me and my mother burying the man down in the sand by the lake. We then would gone to San Remo, our local pizza joint for a slice of pepperoni and a Pepsi, not mentioning what had just happened and never speaking of it again.
But this is a true story.
And as I eluded to in the title this is a funny story, so here comes that part.
The jogger got to his feet and came up to the road. I didn't know if he was going to flip out and try to kill us so I had my trusty 9 iron in my hand just in case. I didn't know if I was going to have to finish off what my mother had started. No I'm kidding, I used it to help him get up off the hill. We had only clipped him on the back of the thigh. He was in pain but not about to die and not bleeding, well maybe a wee little.
I used to sleep with my putter in bed thinking it would make me a better golfer. It didn't. I think it just made me have weird unhealthy fantasies about putters. I swear nothing happened between me and that putter. We just slept together. I would also talk to it sometimes. It never spoke back to me. Well ok one time it said, "Can you please let me sleep with the rest of the clubs because they make fun of me every time we're on the course, making smoochie noises at me if you get a birdy or sink a long par putt."
Wow it's late let's get back to the story.
So this jogger was a little woosy which is understandable, I mean he just got smacked by the power of the 85 Camry. Thank god it wasn't the 2004 Camry she has now because this story might not be as funny. He would be dead. Ok so still it would have been a little bit funny but I probably wouldn't be sharing it with you. That's the kind of story just for family when you're sitting around Thanksgiving dinner, eating and laughing when the uncle in the toupee goes, "Hey Daniel remember when your mom killed that guy with her car. Shit that must have been something." That's why that uncle is only allowed over once a year.
Oh ok the funny part. And again this is a truey.
So my mother and I are standing there looking at this sweaty and now filthy man (rolled down the hill remember) stumbling around with twigs, leaves, and soil pasted all over his body. Of course we began apologizing profusely. We weren't sure what to do so obviously we offered him a ride to the hospital. He didn't think he needed any medical attention, just wanted to be dropped at his car.
We obliged. BUT, before he got in the car my mom said, "Wait one second I need to get something." She went into her trunk and retrieved a sheet, lined the back seat with it, and told him he could now sit down. Because he was so dirty, she didn't want to ruin the interior of her 85 Camry. I'm not so sure I understood at the time that someone should be that concerned with a little sweat and soil on their seats after almost killing a man. But then again I didn't have a car and figured I might want to also keep mine in nice condition when I did.
Looking back now, many years later, I still don't think I understand that. But it was really nice of her taking me to the driving range all those years to hit golf balls. I love you mom!
- Editors Note:
After all the blah blah blah about this being a true story listen to this. Mi Madre came into the city for Memorial day and we went out to lunch and then hung out on the pier a little (pic of Brooklyn bridge I took while there). So while we were at lunch I said, "Mom remember that day you hit that jogger on the road," and then told her about the little story I had written for my website. She was like, "Dipshit I didn't hit that jogger, a young girl driving in front of us did." I was like, "no way dude, seriously?"
She reminded my french fried brain that a young woman who had just gotten her license was the actual one who hit him. This Linda Leadfoot was too hysterical to do anything so we all told her just to go home. Then we offered the guy a ride but my mom DID described him as being filthy and sweaty. Also the part about her not wanting him in our 85 Camry was right on the money. She also reminded me that she was mad at the fact this guy was even jogging on the road in the first place, which does not offer a shoulder for a jogger or say an old time bicycle with the big front wheel. I had mentioned that earlier as well.
- Editors second note: My mom didn't actually call me a "dipshit" but by the tone of her voice I could tell she was thinking it.