I believe I was out of high school when this happened. I went to a kegger and got careless and got plastered. The kegger was in the middle of nowhere and calling home was not an option.
It was not a good idea to drive. I could have easily had an accident and even if I didn't I knew I'd get caught by Dad who would go through the roof. It took me a few seconds to come to the conclusion I was already screwed. I wasn't going to get out of this unscathed. Better to face the wrath for not coming home that night than compound it by drunk driving.
I opened the trunk and grabbed the sleeping bag and crashed out in the back seat. If I recall I woke before dawn and felt kind of cruddy so I figured in for a penny, in for a pound and rolled over and grabbed some extra shuteye. Then I got into the front seat and drove home.
Dad and Mom were in the kitchen. I walked in to an angry "Where the hell have you been?"
"If you let me explain the whole thing I'll tell you," I said.
"Pray tell,"Dad said. "Please do."
"I was at this kegger last night..." I started.
"But you're under age," Mom interrupted.
"Quiet!" Dad snapped. "Just listen. I've got this!"
"Anyway I was at a kegger last night and lost track of my drinking and got plastered. There was no phone around for at least a couple of miles so I couldn't call. I wasn't going to drive home drunk so I sacked out in the back seat. I'll take my lumps for being out all night. I can live with that but it's a lot better than drunk driving."
Dad held his hand up to silence Mom and thought a moment.
He turned to Mom and said, "We raised a dumbbell but we didn't raise an idiot. I think I'm going to sleep a little better now because he at least recognized he shouldn't be driving."
"But...he's underage."
"But nothing. You and I will talk about that later." He turned to me. Tell Mom about the Conway kid."
"Bill Conway was driving a little fast. I heard not even ten over. He probably wasn't even going to get a real ticket, Probably just a warning. When the cop tried to pull him over he panicked and punched it and tried to outrun a cruiser. He rolled it on a turn at 80 and spent so much time in the hospital he had to take his senior year over again. On the day he got out of the hospital he was handed a summons for speeding, attempting to elude, reckless driving and a few add ons. All that for simply for trying to avoid what probably would have been a crummy warning ticket."
Dad looked at me and said, "You owe us for worrying the hell out of the both of us." His voice changed into an evil tone. "I've got a little job for you when you wake up. Now get some more sleep."
When I woke up and ran into dad he simply said, "Go hoe out the crap can." It was a two minute job. I was expecting something like digging a 10 foot deep hole and filling it in.
Dad didn't litter. In the clunker he drove back and forth to work he'd toss things onto the passengers side floor. All I had to do was take the kitchen wastebasket out to the car and pick up whatever was on the floor. One time it got pretty full and he commented that it was time to hoe it out. I laughed and the term stuck. To hoe something out meant give something a quick cleanup.
When I was done he said he needed a hand with something. We hopped into the car and headed to the hardware store. I knew he just wanted to talk.
"You dealt yourself a pretty dumb hand, Kid, I'll tell you that. You should have cut way back on the beer but I guess you had to learn. Fact is you played that hand well. You wisely cut your losses instead of of just going for broke. Don't make a habit out of this."
I think about a year later I was at a house party that was getting interesting. There was a phone so I called home. Mom answered so I told her to put Dad on. Dad answered.
"Hey I got a little problem. What if I came home in the morning?"
Dad asked me yes and no questions in case someone was listening to our conversation.
"Are you plastered?"
"Not really."
"Close?"
"Yes."
"You probably shoulden't be driving. Sack out there...Son, thanks for calling. Better safe than sorry."
As I write this I remember that once I called home and simply said, "Pick me up at the Scituate town pier. I got a bad feeling. Don't ask."
"I'm on my way," he said.
Fifteen minutes later we were headed home. When I got in he said, "I won't ask. I trust your judgement."
About halfway home I simply stated that I didn't want to have to deal with acid heads and thanked him.
He said he figured it was something like that.
The Old man was a GENIUS.
To find out why the blog is pink just cut and paste this:
http://piccoloshash.blogspot.com/2009/12/my-feminine-side-blog-stays-pink.html NO ANIMALS WERE HARMED IN THE WRITING OF TODAY'S ESSAY
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