Thursday, August 12, 2010

Crazy commute this morning!

So I’m driving my Impala to work, when I notice the brake pedal goes all the way to the floor. I immediately know the problem—some no account goon cut the rubber brake lines. I look down at the speedometer, and even though it says I’m going 43, I can tell I’m doing like a buck-twenty. Not good.

I look down at my shoe, and it is frantically pumping the brake pedal to no avail.

Then to make matters worse, there’s a 14-car pileup on the highway ahead of me, and the road is completely blocked. Luckily, there’s a rollback parked with the ramp down, so I aim for that and hang on. Thank goodness I was able to clear the entire accident! My car completely wadded up and collapsed upon impact, but when I opened my eyes it was OK again.

Apparently, a motorcycle cop working the accident didn’t like my Evil Kenevil impression, because he took off after me. He must have radioed ahead, because there was a roadblock on the Old South Mill Road. I quick took a dirt road offshoot just ahead of the roadblock, and found myself heading up a winding, Kansas City mountain road. I saw the motorcycle cop spin out of control in my rearview mirror, and he landed in a fishing pond. Just as I went around the next turn, I noticed him climbing out of the pond, perturbed, but unharmed.

I took another look at my shoe pumping the brake pedal.

The cops from the roadblock were still giving chase,  and I could see that the road was about to end. Just as I was coming up on a huge, cavernous cliff, I did the only thing I could do. I jumped out of the Impala and rolled behind a cactus.

My poor car went off the cliff, and exploded as soon as it took to the air. I’m guessing that the hot brake fluid squirting out of the cut rubber brake hoses must have made contact with the exhaust to cause such a big explosion. Then the car exploded seven more times as it hit the ground. The crazy thing is that it looked almost like a rusted out ’92 Crown Victoria as it disintegrated—not so much like my meticulous and beloved Impala family heirloom.

Since no one saw me jump clear of the wreckage, everyone thinks I perished in the crash. I don’t want to let everyone know I’m OK yet, because I’m afraid I’ll go to jail for evading the cops, or at the very least get some kind of wreckless driving ticket and points taken off my license. Plus, my funeral is scheduled for tomorrow morning, and I’m curious about what people are going to say about me once they think I’m dead.

Pretty wild, huh?


  1. This story is so far out! Did you hear any ominous, yet spunky, music as all of this was happening? It's a good thing you didn't have to drive down the road on two wheels. Or that some kind of barrels didn't get knocked over, only to make some kind of guy in overalls with a cigar shake his fist at you. Anyway, I really liked this piece. Hope you write more like this. Keep up the good work!

  2. THAT story was hilarious.
    Did you notice that your tires also screeched on the gravel ?

  3. As a matter of fact, they did!

    It's like you guys were there!