Monday, June 18, 2007

Reaction from My Last Post

The consensus from the small yet passionate circle of friends, acquaintances, and various and sundry hangers-on is unanimous: Everybody loves a post wherein Your Hero inflicts pain upon himself, whether that pain be physical or mental. Apparently, they can't get enough of some good old-fashioned pie-in-the-face humor and debasement, as long as 1) they are NOT the subject of the humor, and 2) I am.

Well, who am I not to oblige? Forthwith then one of my most embarassing moments on this earth.

My first new car was a 1989 Ford Mustang, black with a red interior. I bought it for the princely sum of $9,400 in the summer of that year. And I loved that car, whether it deserved the love or not. Hey - I was all of 21 years old - what can I tell you? If you want to take a look at what it sorta looked like, click
here. Mine was a hard-top, and not automatic, but it's more or less the same car. The details aren't too important; suffice to say I loved the car and felt like a million bucks driving it.

One fine day as I was driving down the highway (128 South, heading towards 93, for you townies), I looked to my right and saw some dude driving the exact same car as mine. black exterior, red interior, the whole bit. My car down to the floorboards. So I did what any car-proud youngster would do: I sidled up to him and made eye contact. I made what I hoped was the universal gesture for, 'hey, check it out, we're driving the same car.'

The other guy looked at me as if I were holding up a fresh turd for his examination.

Undaunted by this apparent rejection, I pointed at his car, then pointed to mine, again in a gesture I thought was immediately recognizable as an acknowledgement that we were, in fact, brothers in automobilia.

Again, he gave me a look that would wilt lettuce and pounded on the gas, speeding away.

I was left only to reflect on the unfriendliness of my fellow man when it struck me why he had reacted the way he did: I was driving my girlfriend's car at the time, a decidedly girly Honda Prelude. Instead of "Hey, we have the same car," he could have only taken my gesture as meaning, "pull over - I'm a homosexual." I turned the color of the interior of my car, a humbler boy, but a little bit wiser.

And because this story has no real moral I'll borrow the one from my previous post: Don't mess with your own ass.


  1. LOL Great post! It kind of made me wish I was there to witness the humiliation.

    Talk about depreciation. I see your $9,400 new car is now valued at $780 on ebay.

    I double dare you to post the Johnson story - and in case you don't get where I'm going, I'm talking about the johnson story involving your mother. LOLLLLLLLL
    Who said you can't have fun in work?

    As Always,

  2. Things that are even MORE embarrassing than driving a Prelude and hitting on a dude--

    1) Owning a Mustang II

    2) Being pulled over by the Beverly Police just for being a crappy driver. "Had anything to drink tonight, Gary?" "Not a drop, sir."

    3) Having the same driving instructor as your older sibling--the one who was in the car when said sibling felt compelled to do a smokin' 540 in a Plymouth Reliant on Route 1 in Saugus during his driving lesson the year prior.

    But now I want to hear the story about Gary's mother and a johnson. Do tell.

  3. Well, "Ross," if that's your real name, I hardly think that this is the proper forum to air out all the family embarassments. However, since you've thrown down the gauntlet, I feel compelled to respond point by point:

    1. Owning a Mustang II: FU.
    2. The Beverly Police Incident: You don't think that maybe had something to do with the fact that there were 5 kids in a crappy car (with a BB gun, it hardly bears remembering)? FU.
    3. That driving instructor LOVED me. We used to pull over and smoke and dish about other people in the class. She thought you were a meatball. FU. And BTW, just to make things clear, 'twas YOU that spun 'er out trying to get on the highway. Again: FU.

    Well, once again, I've run rings 'round you logically. Hope this doesn't put you into spasms.

  4. Ross,

    I'd love to tell the Johnson/Ma story, but I wouldn't do it justice. So we'll just have to wait for Gary's next post.