Two Wheel Drive

A couple of years ago, my driver side mirror fell off my car. (Okay, I knocked it off because I was walking backwards and wasn’t paying attention.) Then the passenger side mirror fell off (while I was on the highway, so there was no reattaching it). Then on a particularly hot day after the air conditioning went out, my rearview mirror dropped off the windshield onto the dashboard. So I found myself in a zero-visibility, 100-degree furnace with transmission issues. Or what is more commonly called a "deathtrap." I sold it for cash to a man who fixes up cars and resells them in Mexico and said "Adios" to being a two-car family. Then one of my older brothers swooped in to save the day. He let me indefinitely borrow the old truck he used when he delivered mail a few years ago. He had converted a 1995 Ford Bronco into a mail delivery truck by installing a steering wheel and pedals on the passenger side of the car. So he could drive on either side of the car if he so chose.

Okay, sidestory backstory here. This particular older brother likes to fish early in the morning. And he's used to getting up early because of some past jobs (newspaper roller, donut maker, etc.). So he would invite his buddies to go fishing with him and pick them up in the converted Bronco. Then he'd tell them, "I'm actually more accustomed to driving this car from the passenger side, so you can ride in the driver's seat, but I’ll drive from over here." They would blearily oblige and then fall asleep. This would give my older brother the perfect opportunity for a little fun. Because apparently, if you're sleeping in the driver's seat of a moving vehicle, it's easy to convince you that you fell asleep at the wheel. So he'd wait until the sleepy friend was really out cold. Snoring was usually a good sign. Then he'd slowly drift onto the shoulder and lean back in his seat like he'd been drifting off too. Then he'd yell at the top of his lungs, "Aaaaahhhhh! What are you doing! We're going off the road!" I can only imagine what the "driver" went through on this little prank. I freak out when my phone rings while I'm asleep. But to wake up and realize that you're supposed to be in control of a 2-ton beast that's careening off the road must be slightly more terrifying. This is what I imagine the progression of thoughts was for the victim:

1. "What? Why is someone waking me?"
2. "Why is this person yelling?"
3. "I'm driving off the road into some trees!"
4. "I saved us. But why is he laughing all of a sudden?"
5. "I thought I was gonna die!"
6. "I'm gonna kill you!"
7. "Dude, we need to go back so I can change shorts."

I used the Bronco for about two years, but I never got to do that to anybody. He disengaged the steering wheel and brake pedal on the passenger side before turning it over to me. So I just had to warn people to watch where they put their feet when riding with me, so they didn't hit the remaining gas pedal accidentally. Which led to another problem with one of my other older brothers. He decided it would be fun to hit the gas at random times when he rode with me. If I asked him if there were any cars coming from his direction, he would skip the "no" and just slam his foot down on his gas pedal. And let me tell you, there's something very strange about having your foot on the brake and then feeling the car lunge forward all of a sudden. And if we were coming to an empty four-way stop, he'd tap the gas so it was nearly impossible for me to stop before getting to the intersection. Mostly he'd just mess with other drivers, though. If we pulled next to someone on the highway, he'd jerk his wheel towards them like he was running them off the road. It only got bad when I joined in and eased the car towards them too. We only did that once, though. I won't forget that traffic ticket.

Countdown Breakdown

Post FYI: Today's post is a repost of a guest post I posted that was posted on theDMT.blogspot.com. Some of you may already have read it. Sorry if I disappoint anyone again.

I like to consider myself a pretty easy-going person. I don't usually let things get to me, and I don’t stress about much. But I think whoever invented the digital heart attack called "Distance To Empty" in my car is trying to kill me. It's the setting on the overhead trip computer that shows you how many miles you have until you run out of gas. I can just hear him talking about it, mocking my pain. ("Beautiful, isn't it? It took me half a lifetime to invent it. I'm sure you've discovered my deep and abiding interest in pain.")

My minivan, I mean Corvette, has one of those trip computers. And its main feature is the DTE mileage. It estimates how long you have until you're empty. Pretty neat, right? Wrong! It would be neat if it was accurate. But it jumps around depending on how hard you stop or how tilted you are when you park. So I can get in my car and see "DTE = 22 miles" and then back out of the driveway and see it plummet immediately to 13 miles. And then it does that accelerated countdown to zero. It doesn't drop a mile for every mile I drive (because that would actually make sense). Instead, it drops 3 miles every time I pass a gas station. Then it hits zero when I've hit that stretch of road without a gas station for 10 miles. So I have to accelerate slower than a golf cart and coast as much as I can without getting hit by another driver. And just to be safe, I turn off my air conditioner and lean forward (I figure every little bit helps).

My wife thinks I'm crazy. She'll drive on "DTE = 0 miles" for days and laugh maniacally as I squirm in the passenger seat (no, not really). And she'll accelerate for no reason ("Not to fifty!") Then she'll toss the keys to me and say, "Your turn!" It's like playing gas tank Russian Roulette. It reminds me of a show I watched when I was younger (I want to say it was something cool, but it was actually Weird Science) where one of the main characters has a timer that counts down to his death. Watching the DTE drop to zero is like watching the countdown to my own destruction.

I just miss the good old days when I knew that having an empty tank really meant having an eighth of a tank, and you had to see the needle drop an inch below "E" before worrying. But this countdown business is going to put me in the hospital. I don't think I've never had a panic attack, but I'm pretty sure I know what it feels like now. It's like being in some kind of Pit of Despair and having 50 years sucked out of my life.

Cube Wars

My older brother is one of those people that will dedicate a lot of time to wasting time. When he doesn't feel like working or studying or whatever he's supposed to do, he'll find something to distract him from work. This usually results in the planning of elaborate pranks. He plans pranks for days or weeks just so he can really catch someone off guard.

I think this happens mostly at work because of his boring job. He once spent an entire afternoon covering every item in a coworker's cubicle with aluminum foil. He wrapped each individual pen, every binder in the cabinet, and even the paper clips left on the desk. He was ridiculously meticulous. And he bought the foil two weeks in advance in case the opportunity came sooner than expected. Not to mention the fact that he spent 40 dollars on it. He really likes messing with coworkers, too. His favorite thing to do to new people at work is email them when he knows they're at their desk. All he sends is "Turn around." Then he walks to their desk quietly and stands behind them until they get the email. It never fails to freak people out. And since he knows the network at his office is super slow, he always makes it to their desk before the email does. I wish he could get some pictures of their faces when they turn around and see him towering behind them.

One time he waited after hours for a coworker to leave, and then dismantled his PC and put a cell phone inside. He made sure the volume wasn't too high, but he set the ringtone to circus music. Then he put the PC back together and back in place. Then when the guy came in the next morning, my brother called the cell phone every five minutes. And it took an hour before the guy realized the music was coming from his desk. He pulled open every drawer, moved his computer, his monitor, his printer, and even crawled under his desk looking for the source. And once he unplugged everything and broke a sweat in his work clothes, my brother stopped calling. So after the guy decided he had finally eliminated the source and he'd moved everything back, he started calling again. It drove the guy crazy. And worst of all, my brother got everyone else involved too. So everyone else in the office pretended they couldn't here it. But the volume was so low, that the guy wasn't even sure he could hear it himself. Eventually he quit working and went through each item in his desk until finally he pinpointed the source. So after he dismantled his own PC, he finally found it.

In his defense though, the guy is a super cool guy. He would never do that to someone else, and he's always been nice to everyone he meets. I definitely didn't... I mean, he definitely didn't deserve that. Okay, fine... it was me. I still have to think of a way to get him back.

The Awkward Box

I think someone should write a list of elevator etiquette rules. Because sometimes I don't know what to do. Like if you're on the elevator with an old guy on a Segway. Do you offer to hit the button because he's old and he's on a motorized vehicle? Or do you warn him to watch his head on the way out? I did the former. But he said, "I got it" and zipped up to the buttons and pressed his floor, then zoomed right back to the wall next to me. So I felt really weird standing next to a towering man on a glorified scooter who I'd just implied was impaired. I guess that's a pretty rare scenario, though. But there are plenty of situations that happen all the time where I don't know what to do.

There are some rules that are unwritten, but universally understood. For example, if you're waiting for the elevator and someone you don't know walks up to wait with you, you are required to look at each other and give a half-smile while raising your eyebrows. No need to make small talk or say hello. That's just protocol. It's an unspoken agreement that basically says, "We're about to ride for an undetermined amount of time in a closet-sized space where we are required to look forward the entire time. Let's not make it awkward by interacting before we even get in there." And if you want to see me squirm, turn around and face the wrong way in the elevator. Nothing makes that ride more awkward than trying to avoid eye contact with someone who's facing you from two feet away. It's just unnatural.

But where I really need help is repositioning after someone exits. I was on an elevator the other day with four other people and we were all lined up against the back wall. We stopped once and the three people on the right got off. So that left me and the other guy standing really close on one side of the elevator. I wanted to move over so I didn't have to stand so close to him, but I didn't want to make it seem like I had to get away as fast as possible. I didn't know what to do to convey, "I don't think you smell bad, but I don't want people thinking I'm purposely standing right next to you." So I had to kinda shimmy down a little, leaving enough room so we weren't almost holding hands, but not moving so far as to imply that he had cooties. I think I did the right thing, but I still felt weird.

The only thing I've found to be a concrete rule (for me anyway) is to wait until the doors open before making your exit move. I can't tell you how many times I've made the mistake of taking the preparation step towards the door only to wait 10 more seconds for the doors to open. So I look like I'm trying to sniff the doors while everyone else just stares at me. If I weren't so lazy and overweight, I'd just take the stairs.

Top Ten Things That Make You Realize You’re a Fatty

10. The vending machine guy gives you the "expiring-tomorrow" items, and it's the highlight of your month.

9. You receive a cupcake at work through the interoffice mail service, and you eat it. Even though it's been in a hot cardboard box for several hours.

8. You'd rather work on the first floor so that if there's a fire, you're not forced to take the stairs.

7. You know the franchise-specific term for "super-size" at every fast food restaurant.

6. Your day can change course in an instant if you're given a candy bar.

5. If you haven't ordered a pizza by 6pm on a Tuesday, your local pizza joint calls your house and asks if you're alright.

4. You keep food in your pocket.

3. You're always the first person told when there's extra food left over from something.

2. Your sweat smells like fried onion rings.

1. You don't own a scale and your running shoes are not living up to their name.