Sunday, January 16, 2011
Tee Ball and Spring Gardens
As I have said before, me and the boys moving to Quincy was one of the best things I ever did. I've told you about our first house out on HWY 65, and all the space it had. Wonderful acres of space. Good for boys. Good for boys who ride battery powered jeeps, motorcycles and dump trucks. Plenty of space for speeding bikes. And you know, if you have a bike, you have GOT to have bike ramps. To speed and jump like the pros. Zach got a set for Christmas or maybe his birthday in March. I can't quite remember the occasion we chose to bring those lifts of death into our lives. He never got badly hurt on them. A few tumbles, falls, and scratches. Nothing major. The worst thing to come out of having these ramps..happened to me.
When we moved here, I still had my 1987 Blazer. It was a good old vehicle. I coddled and cradled it. I ended up driving that thing almost 13 years. Mostly, because I was strapped for money, and it was paid for. Several incidents almost brought that poor Blazer to it's death. But we were always able to revive her. In 2002, I sold the old girl, and I was able to buy another vehicle. A 1998 used, black Chevrolet Buick. Had less than 12,000 miles on it and only one previous owner. An older lady that lived right here in Quincy. What a wonderful find for me. That baby was built low to the ground. The car, not the older lady. And as it turns out..I might should have kept my Blazer just a liiiiiitle bit longer.
It was Spring and Tee-Ball season had already begun. Zach has played some kind of sport since he was able to hold a ball. And Mims, Josh and I have been following him around for years to watch. This Saturday began like any other. We're running around, trying to get everything together. No matter how hard we tried, the night before plan never seemed to work out. The next day, the day of whatever it is for the moment, we are scrambling. Scrambling to find gloves, the missing shoe, the lucky sock. And, as time is crowding in, and we are losing our extra time allowed, I begin to fuss. " Why can you not do what I ask you do to? Why are we always running around at the last minute? This is your deal, I ask you to take responsibility. You know, I would really like to sleep late one Saturday, maybe I will next Saturday since I am the only one who seems to care about getting you where you need to be with all of your things." Sound familiar to anyone? And so it goes.
We are finally out of the house. I'm hustling everybody to the vehicle. And I stop. Zach's dang bike is in the way..again. Right in the pathway to the car. I almost trip over it. Causing yet another streaming barrage of garbage to come out of my mouth. "How many times do I have to tell you to put your bike up when you are through riding it? Laying right out here in the front yard for God and everybody to see. When it gets stolen don't come crying to me. And I'm not riding the roads looking to see which little boy is riding your bike when it happens..do you hear me"? Needless to say, although the bike is being moved, no one is really listening to me. Me and my rant.
Now, we're in the car. I'm breathing hard, because I have been belting out my words at the highest possible volume. Josh is sitting next to me saying nothing, because he has always been the wise child. The child who knows when to remain silent. And Zach is sitting in the back. Looking sullen and angry. Like he would like to tell me a thing or two himself. I can see him. As he thinks this. In my rear view mirror.
I begin to back out of the drive. And suddenly we are slammed to a stop. I cannot imagine what it is. It's not the bike. I'm looking back at the porch. And I can see the bike. I try to back up again. Now, I already know what your thought process is..and to answer the obvious question. I don't know what made me think, if I could not move before, I could possibly move now. I am rattled. From fussing. Over missing gloves, a shoe, and a lucky sock. Over bikes laying in the pathway, ripe for stealing. Going backward again does not work. It's worse. We all slam forward. Victims of whiplash at this point.
I get out of the vehicle. I go around to the back of my vehicle, to make sure there are no carcasses lying underneath. Because at this point, I cannot imagine what else I could have hit. Then I see it. The Ramp. The high end of the ramp is LODGED underneath the back end of my vehicle. Like completely lodged at this point. Because I have not only backed up once. I have tried to back up twice. Which has ensured that the ramp, if it wasn't stuck the first time, is without a shadow of a doubt, stuck now.
Now, the ranting really begins. The crazy lady has been set loose. I am screaming and hollering at the top of my lungs for everybody to get out of the vehicle. GET OUT NOW. They both climb warily out. Their eyes are darting rapidly, back and forth. I am supposing, looking for a place to run. I'm not sure at this point, if they knew what was wrong, what had really happened. But they knew by looking at my exploding face, spewing awful, unsanitary words, that it was not good. I am mid-way through my rant, and the words " YOUR @%###$ RAMP is under my vehicle. DO YOU SEE IT?? HOW MANY TIMES DO I HAVE TO TALK TO YOU ABOUT THIS? THERE IS NO TELLING WHAT HAS BEEN RIPPED OUT AND TORN UNDERNEATH MY VEHICLE. THE ONLY VEHICLE I HAVE, YOUNG MAN. THANKS TO YOU WE MAY BE WALKING. AND GUESS WHAT, YOU CAN KISS THAT TEE-BALL GAME GOOD-BYE TODAY, WE WILL NEVER MAKE IT NOW. "
Yes, all that and probably much more came out of my mouth for another five minutes or so. Until I was exhausted and could holler no more. I was trying to calm down and think. When I remembered. I could not just NOT go to that tee-ball game. My parents were there waiting on us! They came to all of Zach's games. They didn't have a cell phone. They refused to succumb to the age of our technical society. To be TRACKED down. So, how in the world would I let them know? They would be frantic with worry. My mind is whirling in a million directions. And all the while, I began to rant again, with my newest crisis. My parents. And a whole string of.." You see what ALL of this has caused" began.
Then, it comes to me. What to do. I will go forward, to loosen the ramps. Made perfect sense to me. If going backward tightened the hold. Forward should loosen it. I shout at my children to stand back. Get out of the way. I get back in the vehicle and it begins. I go forward, nothing. I back up again. I know, I know. I don't know why I did it, I just did. Then I go forward again. FAST. Nothing. I roll the windows down and tell my boys to move again. Further. Move further back. And then it begins. I begin to RACE through our yard. Forward. Then slamming on brakes. As fast as I can. To loosen the ramp. Trying to dislodge the ramp. ALL OVER THE YARD. The front. The side. I am doing 30mph in my front yard. Slinging dirt and grass everywhere. Slinging dirt and grass, because my vehicle is now a tiller. A plow. I have ruts the size of craters in my yard. I proceed with this action for another five minutes or so. At some point, as I am crazily plowing through my yard, trying to avoid trees and my swing...I see their faces. My childrens' faces. They are standing there with stunned disbelief, and what appears to be, something kin to horror, plastered across their faces.
Then it happens. In the next minute or two, the ramp comes loose. I can feel the difference when it happens. My vehicle is no longer hampered by the ramp. It is moving freely now, and appears to still be, all in one piece.
I pull up next to my children and tell them to get in. Tell them we have a tee-ball game to go to. Neither one of them looked very happy. And neither one of them wanted to get back into that vehicle or any other vehicle with me. Ever again.
In the years after, when Joshua tells this story, I feel totally misrepresented. Zach says his memories of all that are not very clear. Joshua however, has no problem relaying what a maniacal crazy woman I was that day. I feel, as I always do when these types of things happen. That I was doing whatever it took to GET IT DONE. My kid had a tee-ball game, and people were waiting on us. Yes, we had a crisis, but we had to get past it. To get it done.
And as usual, when I make a horses behind of myself, I always feel I must justify my behavior somehow. With something. That Spring, I had not planted any of my spring Caladuim bulbs yet. And guess what? I saved myself $25. WOO HOO! I didn't have to rent a Tiller from Bell and Bates. Between Zachs' ramp and my Buick, I had already tilled that land to completion. GO ME!