I Shouldn't Be Allowed To Drive.

01/24/2011 · 23 comments

in Social Services

Adrian and I had a chat this weekend, after I called him for the 4th or 5th time saying, “OH MY GOD MY CAR IS BREAKING DOWN I DON’T WANT TO BUY A NEW ONE,” and it turned out that actually I had just put the ‘ol Jeep in 4 Wheel Low so that’s why it wouldn’t shift into a higher gear.

I really shouldn’t be allowed to drive. The evidence is piling up against me.

1. I jumped my 1974 SuperBeetle into a cornfield.

This car is the very reason I will never complain about a vehicle I drive ever again.

My stepdad, true to his plan to “toughen us up,” bought me this car–a stick shift (which, to be fair, I’m grateful I can drive now), purple, hole in the floorboards, tarantula in the trunk, wasp nest in the backseat, no heater, cracked windshield piece of shit. Ask Grace, I’m not exaggerating. I HATED that car, but it was the only car I had, and my driving history to that point didn’t exactly warrant me needing anything nicer. I cleaned it up as well as I could–extracted the creatures who called it home, peeled the Grateful Dead stickers off, put in some Zebra accents, and literally sailed into the sunrise.

One day, I was driving to school, and as teenage girls are tend to do, got distracted.

I was re-applying lipgloss, when suddenly I realized I could only see clouds. I was sailing through the air.

I had apparently run off the road and over a raised driveway large enough to send me airborne. Herbie ain’t got shit on that purple bug.

I landed hard in a cloud of dirt, both outside and thanks to the holes in the floorboards, inside. The car died, and was buried pretty well nose-down in a cornfield.

Another reason why I shouldn’t be driving? I never panicked–just laughed my ass off and drove away.

2. I can’t even control a go-cart.

One summer, my sister and I worked and worked and worked our asses off to earn a go-cart. One day, in our garage stood a lawn-mower engined, shiny white ticket to freedom.

Grace and I invented a lot of games to play, all of which consisted of us flooring it and usually putting me in mortal danger. Games like, “Hey, lean out and grab that Horny Toad while I whizz by,” and “Mrs. White made us cookies again, grab the baggie out of her hand while we whizz by.”

Grace usually drove because I was too damn short to reach the brakes. She knew this to be true, but she often let me drive by myself.

“How did she stop?” you’re wondering.

I rammed into the garage door as hard as I could. I must have done this 100 times before I finally made a dent, which was accompanied by a sonic boom and my stepdad, furious, and Grace laughing her ass of.

3. I’ll go too fast on anything.

Before we got the go-cart, we had a riding lawn mower. The Stormin’ Craftsman had 6 gears, but the Stepdad would only let us get up to third gear, at which snails would flip us off for being in the fast lane.

But he never said we couldn’t go in reverse, which ended up being about 1,000 times faster than 6th gear anyway. The summer before we got the go-cart was filled with Grace and I whipping backwards through a field as fast as that sombitch would let us, trying not to jackknife the trailer that I rode in, thus killing me.

4. If we’re in danger, I will only laugh.

Let me preface this by explaining to you that Grace has a terrible fear of Geese, because once when she was little and Ma was pregnant with me, she was chased through a park by one and Ma’s only contribution was, “RUN FASTER.”

So we were driving to school one beautiful day, and we both had our windows down. There were geese ahead of us in the road, but, as everyone knows, when you get close enough, they fly away.

Well, they all tried to fly away. One got pulled in to the windstream around us and got his head sucked in to the Driver’s side window. Miraculously, he lived, and honked FURIOUSLY in Grace’s face for about a mile. She was screaming in terror, driving all over the road (now that I think about it, it was right where I jumped my bug several years later). There were feathers and expletives all OVER that car.

And I could do nothing but laugh.

Grace was trying so hard to defend herself, but he was honking away, snapping at her hair.

So her plan was to keep driving faster all over the road, in the hopes that he would be sucked out of the window by the same force that sucked him in. It actually fucking worked and he slipped out of the window and Grace was able to stop.

I’ll never forget her face as she turned to me after the ordeal, covered in feathers and tears, shaking like a leaf.

Oh God, I’m laughing just thinking about it.

5. I’ll wreck anything you put me in.

Examples: I wrecked my first car so badly I snapped the drive shaft. Oh, also, I was 14. Unhurt and blasting Blink 182, but that little gold Honda wouldn’t even TRY to start. I wrecked my stepdad’s truck so badly he had to use a crowbar to open the doors from then on. I slammed it into our 2o foot tall front gate hard enough to knock it down and render the doors useless. In that same truck, I once hit a deer which ripped out the headlights and fucked up the transmission something awful. I totaled my Cavalier by going about 10 miles an hour.

Really, it just makes sense to leave me in the passenger’s seat.

Submissions are coming in for the Fashion Fuckaround Challenge! It’s your chance to show off how awesome you look and win a $50 Visa Gift Card, or a Corn-Nut Tiara. Submissions need to be in by January 30th–and then YOU get to pick the winner!

Submit your favorite fashion disaster pic to ohnoagavin at gmail dot com.

elizabeth-flourish in progress January 24, 2011 at 1:15 pm

important question about the contest: what flavor is the corn nut tiara? I’m considering not entering if it’s just Original Flavor Corn Nuts.

Noa, I really love you and that’s why I must beg you to move to a walking-friendly city. I don’t think it’s good for the safety of others (and, uh, I guess you too) for you to be behind the wheels of a moving vehicle.

Noa Gavin January 24, 2011 at 1:19 pm

Ranch Flavored.

There’s a reason I now work from home. Adrian is fairly afraid for his life when I drive. He has to give me directions not using “left and right” but instead, “take a steering wheel,” or “turn dashboard.”

I’m hopeless.

bloggertobenamedlater January 24, 2011 at 3:08 pm

Seriously? You had me until the following phrase: “Oh, also, I was 14. Unhurt and blasting Blink 182,…” Travis Barker joined Blink-182 in 1998. Which means you were born the year I graduated from high school. Aaargggghhhh.

I’ll be fetching my walker now.

PS This means my fashion entry is going to predate your existence by a good 2 years.

Noa Gavin January 24, 2011 at 5:03 pm

I’m sorry. It’s true. I’m still basically a child.

Coco January 24, 2011 at 5:15 pm

LMFAO! Holy shit, that’s funny. I made my sister cry once cause I got my old 89 cavalier to go faster than the speedometer could measure & jumped it over the railroad tracks by our school.

good stuff…..

Noa Gavin January 24, 2011 at 9:43 pm

Thank you! I once broke my nose doing that very thing.

Amanda January 24, 2011 at 9:34 pm

I am dying here!! That was hilarious! I’d have laughed at Grace too. Any time I witness something painful or scary or traumatizing in any way, I start laughing until tears roll down my face.

Noa Gavin January 24, 2011 at 9:46 pm

Thank you! Glad to know I have a kindred spirit in the case of a goose attack.

Grace January 24, 2011 at 10:08 pm

I still freak out a little at the thought of that damn goose. Asshole. I think I took my wrath for that goose out on a pigeon at school last semester. I told them I wasn’t interested in avian medicine, and I did not feel like participating. They rudely told me that DVM covers all species (all but one of course) and that I would HAVE to learn birds and shit. (Remember the ostrich?) When I was scolded for accidentally breaking that pigeon’s neck…I simply said, “I warned you I wasn’t interested in Avian medicine.” Damned goose.

Noa Gavin January 24, 2011 at 10:13 pm

Oh God. I just remembered that phone call. “Fuck that pigeon n’shit.”

Grace January 24, 2011 at 10:17 pm

Bitch tried to get away ‘n shit.

By the way, just because other people read this shit and are probably gonna wonder what the hell kind of vet I’ll be if I’m ruthlessly killing birds in school, it WAS an ACCIDENT, I was merely trying to catch him.

Also, I should be freaking studying, my pathology notes are open in front of me, but your stupid blog is just such a nice distraction.

Noa Gavin January 24, 2011 at 10:21 pm

Awww n’shit

Elly Lou January 25, 2011 at 9:24 am

Heee. Hoo! Pheee. OH! My sides. Heh. THE GOOSE! With the…Hee…HONKING! That’s funnier than the time I watched my little brother stick exposed wires into a live electrical outlet.

Noa Gavin January 25, 2011 at 8:54 pm

I just pictured a goose coaching your little brother into doing so.

Kernut the Blond January 25, 2011 at 11:15 am

LOL What amazes me is your folks let you keep trying, with another vehicle. My sister and I wrecked on golf cart, one time, and that was it. When we were YEARS past legal driving age we each got used Chevettes. Not exactly the fastest cars.

Noa Gavin January 25, 2011 at 8:54 pm

Hey, a chevette launches just as well as a bug. My parents never learned.

KatieTheBlogLady January 25, 2011 at 11:57 pm

You took the Grateful Dead stickers off the Volkswagon? Tsk.Tsk.

And what about that goose!? Oh, that darn goose!! I die. Thank you.

Noa Gavin January 26, 2011 at 12:54 am

It was a bad call to take off the stickers. They were essential to the structural integrity of the Volkswagen.

hoodyhoo January 26, 2011 at 6:52 am

More proof that we were separated at birth — I have hit both a fence post (my own, the same one that I hit with my bike growing up… creepy, right?) and a church. Hey, it jumped out in front of me, I think that church was drunk. And also, Grace is RIGHT to be afraid of geese: A goose once blacked my whole damn eye when I tried to feed it a barbeque sammich. Rude.

Noa Gavin January 26, 2011 at 6:28 pm

You…hit a church? You glossed right over that–let’s revisit.

hoodyhoo January 27, 2011 at 6:16 am

I told you, that damn church had been drinking! And I think it was suicidal! Or it was trying to get disability! IT WAS ASKING FOR IT!

Noa Gavin January 27, 2011 at 12:15 pm

Churches are always looking for handouts.

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