Well hey there, you willies Enjoyer. Welcome here.
Thanks for dropping by. Here's a tune to help you get all "Shitiated." I'm thinking the Beatles, like Lucy in the Sky with Diamonds, but a bit more modern.
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Story Continued-----
We had lost our heads, you see. And Sean was about to transform the Jeep into an Ark. Psychedeliciousness.
Now here we learn how to NOT drive while in the company of ZID.
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Sean was quite an amazing driver, always had been. I first learned this after I'd rebuilt my little Toyota Celica's engine in my bedroom, using only a Chilton's guide, and had to keep buying tools each step along the way.
He took the little four-banger out, with me in the shotgun seat, and went mudding in the neighbor's corral. He had us spinning around and doing amazing things, all while not even using the clutch. Speed shift. That is where I first learned that such a thing was possible, which came in quite handy in another couple months, when I realized I should have replaced the clutch disc when I had the engine all apart.
I began to have to start it up in first gear after the red light turned to green, and then speed shift to get up to speed.
That was when I first learned that all of the traffic lights in Fuckno were synchronized to let you have a clean ride of green lights at 33 MPH, or 66, or 99, if you needed. Remember this fact. It will be important in a later chapter. You will see.
Lucky for me, when I finally had enough money, all I had to do was remove 4 bolts from the drive shaft, drop it, eight or so bolts on the tranny, and take out the pumpkin. Clutch disc replaced, (lots of bolts around the ring of the compression plate) using that plastic guide thing on the new disc.
Also, new Starter, because of starting that little bitch up in first gear all those times.
But I digress.
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So, Sean got his courage back. He drove us out of that parking lot with skill.
Apu went back to his newspaper, certain to bring up our visit tonight the next time we went for a Big Gulp and some nachos at his 7-11.
Sean drove at precisely 5 MPH.
But we didn't have a clue about this. Everything was happening too much. "The World Was Too Much With Us," to paraphrase a poet who was Worth his Words...
Until, that is, the horns started honking and folks flew past us, showing us that they thought we were "Numba One" with their bird.
Sean got a clue. He began to speed shift, and really got into it.
The Jeep had some very nice tires on it, all big and fat and bouncy, and they made the deep, rumbly song one gets from chunky tread on tar. This bitch should have been in a mud pit or fig tree field.
We took a turn. Sean revved her hard, and we headed out to the fig tree orchards of Fuckno.
Except that there was a canal in the way, in the dark, at the end of the side street.
He saw the old wooden cross bar too late to stop, but he stomped on the brakes from instinct. Perhaps if he had gassed it like the General Lee, we might have flown over, above the canal, and into the night sky, into the stars.
Instead, we all awoke in the quiet of the moonlight, facing the sky, Jeep tailpipe gurgling under water, and we were a bit more dazed and confused than we had been before.
Sean had a nasty bumpy on his head from the steering wheel, but he wasn't feeling anything.
Or, he was feeling a whole lot of other things, as were we all.
Everything was strange, and we were quite thirsty.
Tellesco leaned over and took a sip of the cool mountain water running just below the rear bucket of the passenger compartment.
He calmly rinsed out the Big Gulp cup that no longer had any Coca Cola in it, and filled it up. He was sitting in a puddle of ice and Coke now, and he was fine with that. Or oblivious.
He handed the cup around, and we were quite thankful.
Sean would have to get us back to the apartment.
We sat there, staring at more stars than were probably there, in our field of vison, and in our heads, and from concussion. Triple play.
I looked over at Sean and asked him if he was cool to do this next thing.
"SHSHSHSHSHe e e eannnnnn n n n n n.... You U u u u u u c c c cooooooollllll l l l l to to to 2 2 2 2 to to (Toto we are not in Kansas anymore) to drive ive ive ive?" is what it sounded like.
The assholes in the rear began to chuckle.
He looked me in the eye, forehead bleeding, and said, "Yup up up up up p p p p p , I can an an an d d d d doooooo ooo oo o th th th th iss s s s s s ssssssssssshit it it it it it."
Well, that is how it sounded. Everything was all echoey. Auditory hallllluccinnnnation-tion-tions.
He put the 4wd drive in low, 1st, stump-pulling gear, and we chugged nicely out of the canal.
Up in the powdery dust of a forgotten field in this high desert land, he popped her into high and did not speed shift. We got to the edge of the field and found a thin strip of fence that we easily pushed through.
On the tar again, the mud flew everywhere. Rooster tail, as we picked up speed, in the warm Santa Anna breeze. The trip home was a trip indeed.
Lights blared with rainbow effect, every turn seemed to take us into a tail spin, but our pilot, Sean, was a badass at this.
I am still amazed, and alive.
Luckily enough, we did not see any popo. This was how we learned that Sean was a quite capable pilot, and we could trust him with this job from there on in, in many different vehicles.
It seemed that this ZID stuff was a bit of an ass-kicker.
Indeed it was, and we would continue on with our new enjoyment, and raise the enjoyment of many other folks, all summer long.
We became known for it.
You see, hippies who made this shit did not travel in Punk Circles.
We did.
You will see.
Next week, longer chapter.
God Help You.
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LINKS
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Did you have a good teacher in school? Play an April Fools Prank like Throbbing Hottie did on the ole Bossman Richie on the 1st day of this month?
Here's a consideration for you, from last Thursday's news:
When you adopt, isn't it a contract that you've made, a commitment to a child? Perhaps the screening processes for both the prospective parent(s) and the orphan should be more precise in their evaluation. "Take him back, I want a different one. Can I get a do-over?"
Antidote, or is it:
Funny writer, writing about parenting.
Antidote to the antidote:
NSFW but very cute. Topless Women jogging.
From Here.
Need some clothing? LEDs in Clothing. Very nice electronic wear.
Now, that might be good, but this isn't:
Scary water quality issues in the Ijen Volcano. Eeeenteresting.
Russian Newspaper Pravda's slide show of deep sea creatures. Yummmmm.... Deep Fish....
Holy Crap. I don't get it?
Fucking antidote for that sheeeit.
Yes S Club - Kiss Kiss Kiss Video. NSFW, and you will not look away. I think that there are words and some sort of music involved.....
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