X - Crossover - #AtoZChallenge

Remember that movie where John Travolta plays a 1950's greaser and he has to sing in almost every scene. He wasn't much of a singer, but coming off of Saturday Night Fever, we knew he could dance. So, he gets the girl he's trying to woo to go to prom with him and things go well for a while until he starts dancing with Beatrix Kiddo at Jack Rabbit Slims. It was a good night, but he learns she is an addict, stabs her in the chest and puts her in the car. Then Susan Sarandon jumps in the car and they drive off into the desert for a lesbian fantasy life of no regrets until the car plummets into a ravine in the Grand Canyon. Maverick and Goose (flying inverted) see the car fly past their jet and mistake it for enemy aircraft. Maverick (played by Will Smith) spins the jet around accidentally ejecting and killing Goose in the process. In anguish from losing his best friend, he shoots the already falling car and then jumps out to attack it physically. When he gets to the wreckage, one of the women with a long ugly face (disfigured from the crash) comes out and he punches her in the face. Only to discover she was not disfigured, it was only Sarah Jessica Parker. He throws her in a sleeping bag and drags her across the desert until he runs into Uncle Eddie from Christmas Vacation who takes him to meet the creepy scientist from The Fly, Seth Brundle. Brundle takes her back to this crazy dinosaur park where Newman from Seinfeld works as a mailman and they nurse her back to health before Starlord uses her as bait to train velociraptors to steal the Infinity Stone.

I love that movie. The wrong movies get Oscars.

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All this month, I am participating in the A to Z Challenge. A new post will go up every day (except Sundays) using a letter of the alphabet as the starting off point. My theme for the month is literary genres. I am writing in a different genre of flash fiction each day. Today's letter is X for Crossover.

I know that's not really a genre, but can you come up with one?

Sign, Pole ... MAILBOX!!! - Revisited

Some of you may have noticed that my blogging has slowed down. Well, not really slowed down, but came to a screeching halt. My daughter would say a mugging halt, but I don't really know what that means. I love my blog and have no intention of stopping. However, after the A to Z Challenge in April, I felt that I needed a break. Plus, my graduate studies have kicked in harder.

I will start writing again soon, but in the meantime, I have picked up a lot of new followers and need to put up material. So, I will be posting some of my older posts starting today. The following was originally posted on September 20, 2012.

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What to do? What to do?

School has been in session for a month and I have been broke for that entire time. The money issue has recently been resolved, but I still have this cloud floating over my head. Since summer is over, it's time to settle in and get serious about life for a while. I haven't really had much of a choice. Between both my daughter's school schedule and my own, plus not having any money, we haven't done much. This isn't truly a bad thing, but I think the awesome summer I just had and the abrupt halt to all the fun is bringing the winter doldrums on early. I'm getting a little stir crazy.

I've been reflecting on past trips and remembering several taken when the kids were younger. It used to be our tradition to take a small trip every Saturday. We usually kept it under a hundred mile radius, but it was something fun to do on a weekend. However, having small children was often a challenge on car trips. They traveled well, but sometimes I had to come up with something to busy their minds.

One car game that lasted for several years was born out of madness one morning. I married Christian's mother when he was three years old and it took him and I a little while to hit it off. You can read about our rocky relationship here and here. One day, I was driving into town and he was doing what he usually did when we were alone in the car. He crawled out of his car seat and was curled up in a ball on the passenger side floor.

He cried about being hungry.

He cried that we weren't going to see Grandpa.

He cried about forgetting his favorite toy at home.

He cried because his shoe fell off.

This was one of those days that I was trying not to pull out my hair and chuck him through the window. I was stressed and could feel the tension mounting more and more as he found new things to whine about. I was biting through my lip as his most recent wail reached a pitch that caused the dogs we passed to start howling. Suddenly, I had an epiphany. Small children are stupid.

It couldn't be too hard to distract him despite his thinking his life was in shambles. I looked around in desperation for an idea. Then, I saw it on the road ahead and started pointing. "Look, Christian, a mailbox."

Christian paused mid-sob as he raised his snot encrusted face. "What?"

"Right there, on the side of the road. There's a mailbox. We have one of those."

He popped up into the seat to see what had me so excited. Once he saw it, he forgot what he was upset about and smiled.

"Oh, Christian, look. There's another one"

He pointed at it and laughed. I innocently asked, "I wonder if there's more."

Who knew they were so much fun?

For the next twenty minutes, we pointed out all the mailboxes we saw. I made sure to let him find several of them first since it wasn't his fault I was smarter and more observant than him. Later, when his mom was in the car, he kept pointing out the mailboxes to us. She didn't question it.

This became our regular routine when in the car together. It kept him busy and more importantly kept him in a much better mood. However, mailboxes aren't always as plentiful as I would have liked them to be. If we hit a stretch of highway with no houses, he would revert back to his whiny ways, so I added telephone poles and eventually signs.

Any type of sign would work. Billboards, stop signs and mile markers were all fair game. So, trips in our car sounded like this: SIGN, SIGN, POLE, SIGN, MAILBOX, POLE, MAILBOX, SIGN, SIGN, SIGN, POLE, MAILBOX, POLE, SIGN!

As time went on, we began to apply rules to the game.

1. You could not identify a sign, pole or mailbox that someone had already pointed out.
2. Every 10 miles, someone was allowed to add something to the list (i.e. swimming pool, satellite dish, dog, etc.)
3. In the event of a disagreement, the loudest person would get the point
4. Kirsten was the only person allowed to identify water towers.

Once Kirsten was born and started playing this game that had been evolving for years, we gave water tower sightings to her. However, Christian loved to point them out as soon as he saw them (even when we weren't playing) and send Kirsten into crying fits. "Bubby took my tower. Those are mine!"

ME: "Christian, you know those belong to your sister. Give her back the tower."

CHRISTIAN: (pouting) "But I saw it first."

ME: "The mailboxes are yours. Her seat is not high enough to be able to see them. Give it back."

KIRSTEN: (throwing a toy at his face) "Yeah, Poopy Head. It's mine."

CHRISTIAN: "You can have it, Sissy."

KIRSTEN: (looking around) "Now I can't see it." (starts crying again)

Once getting that taken care of the game sounded like this:
(EVERYONE YELLING) SIGN, MAILBOX, POLE, POLE, THAT ONE'S MINE, SIGN, MAILBOX, SATELLITE, POLE, MAILBOX, DOG, SIGN, OH WAIT IT WAS TWO DOGS, SIGN, SIGN, MAILBOX, ANOTHER DOG, SATELLITE, DOG, NOPE THAT WAS A SMALL HORSE, MAILBOX, POLE, SIGN, POLE, CHIMNEY, THAT WAS LAST WEEK, NO CHIMNEYS, SIGN, POLE, SIGN, SIGN, MAILBOX, WATER TOWER

 CHRISTIAN, STOP IT!

"H" is for Hornet

Growing up, my dad had always made it clear to my brothers and me that he would never buy us a car. If we wanted a car, we could work for it. However, once we actually turned 16 and it was time to get a job, there was one small problem. We lived 20 miles out of town. Unless we wanted to work for the crazy farmer down the road who threw rocks when he got mad (which was often), or go into town where the work was.

My mother had driven an '84 Mercury Lynx for the last few years and it was passed down to me. My mother got a new car and I got to drive the Lynx/Studmobile. I drove this car until I raced a Trans Am home after work one night. At about 75 MPH the car shook so bad, I didn't know if I would be able to keep it on the road. I lost the race, obviously, and it blew up the next day when my mother was driving it.

I had several cars over the next few years. Some were fast, some were not. Some looked great, others were falling apart. Luckily, I've have never been too concerned about appearance and was just happy to always have something to get me around. It was this lack of shame that brought me to the car this post is all about.

I can't believe I found this picture on Google. It is
almost identical to ours. Even the wood paneling.

When my youngest brother Trevor turned 16, he was presented with a 1974 AMC Hornet wagon that dad had purchased for $50 to obtain a part for another car. He had never intended for the car to be driven, but that was the extra we had when Trevor became licensed. Kyle and myself had always driven the cars that had graciously been given to us regardless of their sex appeal condition. Kyle had even used the car given to him to make extra money to buy an AMC Javelin. Trevor, however, looked this car over and said, "I am NOT driving that."

Dad informed him that he wasn't getting anything else. The front end may be a little damaged and one of the headlights was hanging down attached only by the wires, but if he wanted something better, he would have to take care of it himself. This was his car until then.

Trevor did not reconsider and never drove that car. He found other ways to get around.

Kyle had just started at a technical school in Chicago and, after a few minor fender benders, had some serious concerns about the safety of the Javelin he had worked so hard for. When he found out there was an extra car no one cared about just sitting at our house, he switched until he graduated. When he came back home, the car was then passed to me.

By that time, the car had been in a few more big city incidents. The bumper was loose on one side and the headlight was still swinging by the wires. I discovered that on rainy days my feet would get wet due to the holes rusted through the floor board. One of the doors wouldn't open and sometimes the headlights would just go out. Shortly after getting it, I had to change out the radiator, but the new one was a few inches taller so the hood wouldn't shut. I had to use chicken wire to keep it down.

Despite all the things wrong with the car, it ran great. Especially since Dad had only paid $50 for it to get a few parts for another car. It had its little quirks. If I suddenly let off the gas, it gave off a huge backfire that sounded like a small cannon. If I did this at night, it lit up everything within 15 feet of the car for a short moment. The exhaust had fallen off soon after I got it, so it was a very loud car. This is also the same car that I used to run my brother Trevor down in the school parking lot which resulted in my windshield being shattered.

I drove that car until I got married and parked it when I got my next one. It sat for a few years until I left for college and gave it to a family in our church. We got it going again and they drove it for a few more years. It got a lot of mileage for 50 bucks.

I actually miss that car.

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Happily participating in the Blogging from A to Z Challenge. For the entire month of April, 1,891 bloggers are working their way through the alphabet. One letter every day except Sundays for a total of 26 days.

Click here to visit the website and get more information to see if you might want to join in next year. It's a lot of fun, introduces you to hundreds of new blogs and gives your writing some fantastic exposure.

Sign, Pole ... MAILBOX!!!

What to do? What to do?

School has been in session for a month and I have been broke for that entire time. The money issue has recently been resolved, but I still have this cloud floating over my head. Since summer is over, it's time to settle in and get serious about life for a while. I haven't really had much of a choice. Between both my daughter's school schedule and my own, plus not having any money, we haven't done much. This isn't truly a bad thing, but I think the awesome summer I just had and the abrupt halt to all the fun is bringing the winter doldrums on early. I'm getting a little stir crazy.

I've been reflecting on past trips and remembering several taken when the kids were younger. It used to be our tradition to take a small trip every Saturday. We usually kept it under a hundred mile radius, but it was something fun to do on a weekend. However, having small children was often a challenge on car trips. They traveled well, but sometimes I had to come up with something to busy their minds.

One car game that lasted for several years was born out of madness one morning. I married Christian's mother when he was three years old and it took him and I a little while to hit it off. You can read about our rocky relationship here and here. One day, I was driving into town and he was doing what he usually did when we were alone in the car. He crawled out of his car seat and was curled up in a ball on the passenger side floor.

He cried about being hungry.

He cried that we weren't going to see Grandpa.

He cried about forgetting his favorite toy at home.

He cried because his shoe fell off.

This was one of those days that I was trying not to pull out my hair and chuck him through the window. I was stressed and could feel the tension mounting more and more as he found new things to whine about. I was biting through my lip as his most recent wail reached a pitch that caused the dogs we passed to start howling. Suddenly, I had an epiphany. Small children are stupid.

It couldn't be too hard to distract him despite his thinking his life was in shambles. I looked around in desperation for an idea. Then, I saw it on the road ahead and started pointing. "Look, Christian, a mailbox."

Christian paused mid-sob as he raised his snot encrusted face. "What?"

"Right there, on the side of the road. There's a mailbox. We have one of those."

He popped up into the seat to see what had me so excited. Once he saw it, he forgot what he was upset about and smiled.

"Oh, Christian, look. There's another one"

He pointed at it and laughed. I innocently asked, "I wonder if there's more."

Who knew they were so much fun?

For the next twenty minutes, we pointed out all the mailboxes we saw. I made sure to let him find several of them first since it wasn't his fault I was smarter and more observant than him. Later, when his mom was in the car, he kept pointing out the mailboxes to us. She didn't question it.

This became our regular routine when in the car together. It kept him busy and more importantly kept him in a much better mood. However, mailboxes aren't always as plentiful as I would have liked them to be. If we hit a stretch of highway with no houses, he would revert back to his whiny ways, so I added telephone poles and eventually signs.

Any type of sign would work. Billboards, stop signs and mile markers were all fair game. So, trips in our car sounded like this: SIGN, SIGN, POLE, SIGN, MAILBOX, POLE, MAILBOX, SIGN, SIGN, SIGN, POLE, MAILBOX, POLE, SIGN!

As time went on, we began to apply rules to the game.

1. You could not identify a sign, pole or mailbox that someone had already pointed out.
2. Every 10 miles, someone was allowed to add something to the list (i.e. swimming pool, satellite dish, dog, etc.)
3. In the event of a disagreement, the loudest person would get the point
4. Kirsten was the only person allowed to identify water towers.

Once Kirsten was born and started playing this game that had been evolving for years, we gave water tower sightings to her. However, Christian loved to point them out as soon as he saw them (even when we weren't playing) and send Kirsten into crying fits. "Bubby took my tower. Those are mine!"

ME: "Christian, you know those belong to your sister. Give her back the tower."

CHRISTIAN: (pouting) "But I saw it first."

ME: "The mailboxes are yours. Her seat is not high enough to be able to see them. Give it back."

KIRSTEN: (throwing a toy at his face) "Yeah, Poopy Head. It's mine."

CHRISTIAN: "You can have it, Sissy."

KIRSTEN: (looking around) "Now I can't see it." (starts crying again)

Once getting that taken care of the game sounded like this:
(EVERYONE YELLING) SIGN, MAILBOX, POLE, POLE, THAT ONE'S MINE, SIGN, MAILBOX, SATELLITE, POLE, MAILBOX, DOG, SIGN, OH WAIT IT WAS TWO DOGS, SIGN, SIGN, MAILBOX, ANOTHER DOG, SATELLITE, DOG, NOPE THAT WAS A SMALL HORSE, MAILBOX, POLE, SIGN, POLE, CHIMNEY, THAT WAS LAST WEEK, NO CHIMNEYS, SIGN, POLE, SIGN, SIGN, MAILBOX, WATER TOWER

 CHRISTIAN, STOP IT!

Apparently, Not Everything Is About Me

I have been really busy the last few weeks. Nothing particularly interesting, just busy. So when I sat down to write, I had to search my memory for a bit to decide what to write about. I eventually came up with something, but want to share a couple of pictures first.

A few days ago I was visiting my friend Brad's house. His son Bradyn was running around the house doing what 2 year olds do. Screaming, laughing and throwing things at the guest. After an hour or so, he began to slow down and sat to watch TV. He curled up in a chair with a doll and was very quiet.

As I got up to leave, I got my first good look at the doll.

His dad says it's Braydyn's favorite and sleeps with it every night. Brad had bought it at a haunted house a few years ago and Bradyn took a liking to it. Brad and his wife eventually decided to just let him have it.

Bradyn plays with trucks and blocks the same as other boys his age, but the nipple-pierced demon is his favorite toy. I will be keeping my eye on this kid.

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For this next picture, I don't have any story, it just really caught my eye.

A pink Mustang. I'm still not sure how I feel about that.

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The new school year started last week. Kirsten and I both had a great summer and hated to see it come to an end. However, it has ended and it is time to get back to work. As Kirsten was getting ready for her day, I ran out to the mailbox. In the way back, I noticed some bright colors on the steps by our side door. Since I had not yet put in my contacts, I couldn't tell what it was, but knew it was out of place.

From about 20 feet away, I saw that it was a vase of roses. Now, I am not really a big fan of flowers, but a huge smile immediately came to my face.

In the few seconds it took me to retrieve them, my mind went through a series of thoughts.

WOW! Red sent me flowers! She is so awesome. I love her.

Wait, she's still looking for work and money has been tight, so I doubt she would spend her money this way. Plus, she usually puts more thought into her gifts. I don't think she would send flowers even if she was sending a gift.

These are on the steps of my side door and it is only 7:30 in the morning. A flower company did not deliver these. It must be someone local.

Have I done something nice for someone lately and they want to say thank you?

Do I have a secret admirer?

It wouldn't matter who it was. I am very happy with Red, but it would be flattering. Who sent me these flowers?

I grabbed the flowers and pulled out the card to settle my racing mind.

KIRSTEY? WHAT?!?

It hadn't occurred to me for even a moment that they could have been for someone else. I'm not the only person in this house. Am I really so arrogant, that I could only conceive of the gift being mine. Well, I am that arrogant, but that's not really the point.

I have written in past posts about my daughter dating, but I guess the reality of it isn't really at the forefront of my mind. I have accepted it, but am not really used to it yet.

Grand Theft Auto - Kindergarten Style

Not actual car, but closest I could find.

My brother Kyle drove a 1974 AMC Javelin when he was a teenager. He loved that car.

One night, as he was driving home, the car broke down. He pulled over to the side of the road and discovered he would need a few tools to get it running again. Since it was well after dark, it would have to sit until morning. We lived out in the country and knew the car would be safe until then.

The next morning the trip to get the car was a little delayed because we had family come in from out of town. After visiting with them for a few hours, he enlisted me to drive him out there.

We took Kyle's second vehicle. It was a large flatbed truck used to haul water. Kyle had a water hauling business. At the time, we lived in an area that did not have water lines. Everyone in the area got their water from a well. Using a well for your water supply means that you have a limited amount of water and it is possible to run out. If someone went empty they would pay Kyle to come out and refill their well.

Our visiting family members included our 6 year old cousin, Fred. He was fascinated by the large truck, so we asked him if he wanted to go for a ride. He was thrilled to get to climb up in the cab with us. We were soon on our way.

After driving a few miles, Kyle points at his car and says, "Look at that. Someone left a car on the side of the road."

Fred had never asked us where we were going and had never seen this car before. He didn't know it belonged to Kyle. He looked up over the dashboard and commented on how cool it was. I suggested we pull over to get a better look at it.

Kyle pulled his truck up in front of the Javelin and we all get out. Kyle and I watch Fred admiring the car. As Fred is looking in one of the windows, I open the side door. "Hey, look. It's unlocked."

Fred's eyes opened wide. "You can't do that."

Kyle told him, "Relax. There's no one around."

No one for miles.

We lived in a farming community and this was one of those areas where a house could not be seen in any direction. It was all fields, but Fred stood his ground.

As Kyle climbed into the car, Fred protested again, "Get out of there. The cops will get you."

I open the hood and yell, "Hey, Kyle, I think I see the problem."

Fred yells at both of us, "I want to go back. Let's leave."

Ignoring Fred's pleas, Kyle joins me at the front of the car and says, "I think I can fix this. Hey, Fred, grab those tools under the driver's seat."

Fred: "No."

Me: "Fred, the quicker we get this car going, the faster we can get out of here. Now hurry."

Fred hangs his head and slowly walks to the truck. He retrieves the tools and comes back to stand beside us. He stood there looking at the tools in his hands, contemplating whether he should be an accomplice in this crime he did not want to commit.

Kyle: "Give me the tools and go behind the truck and watch for cars."

Fred: "What?"

Me: "We need you to keep watch in case someone comes."

Fred: "I don't want to. I'll wait in the truck."

Kyle: "Fred, at this point, if someone comes, we will all get busted. Now, help us out and go watch for cars."

Fred, moving slower than ever, shuffled over to the other side of the truck so he could get a clear view of the road. Kyle begins working under the hood. I assist with my limited mechanical abilities (which usually means turning the key when Kyle says to). We soon forgot about Fred out there keeping us safe.

After a few minutes, we hear Fred scream. I look up and see him come running around the corner of the truck yelling, "CAR! CAR! There's a car coming!"

Fred runs by us and dives into the ditch. Kyle and I quickly take our places hiding behind the car as well. Trying not to laugh, I start to say something to Fred, but he cuts me off and puts his finger to his lips, "SHHHHHH!"

Once the car got by us, Kyle and I stood up. Fred yelled, "Not yet, they could still see us. Get down!"

Once he felt it was safe, he stood up, gave us a dirty look and went back to his place behind the truck without any of us saying a word.

Kyle soon had the car started and we yelled for Fred. I hopped in the Javelin to drive it back and told Fred to get in. He said he was not getting anywhere near the car and climbed in with Kyle in the truck.

On the way back to the house, Kyle was explaining to Fred that he couldn't tell anyone about this. He had to keep his mouth shut until he repainted the car. Fred just sat there with his arms crossed and did not talk all the way back.

Back at the house, I parked the Javelin in the garage and closed the door. Kyle parked behind the house and I helped Fred out of the truck. Before going inside, we reminded him once again that he could not tell about what we had just done. He nodded his head.

We walked to the house and as soon as I opened the door, Fred bolted inside. He ran up to his mother and the little narc spilled out the whole story in one breath.

"MOM, I DIDN'T WANT TO, BUT THEY MADE ME. I GOT SCRATCHED AND WET HIDING IN A DITCH AND THE COPS ARE COMING, BUT I DIDN'T DO IT. IT WAS THEM. THEY TOLD ME NOT TO TELL AND THEN PUT IT IN THE GARAGE. I GAVE HIM A WRENCH BUT IT WASN'T MY FAULT. I DIDN'T WANT TO."

When he paused to take a breath, his mother, alarmed by the excited state of her son said, "Wait, what happened?"

Fred hung his head and cried, "We stole a car."

She looked up at us. Kyle and I looked at each other, shrugged our shoulders and went back outside.