Monday, February 21, 2005

Stubborn is as stubborn does

I sat down at my desk tonight to find this shit on my desktop. My wife is not funny.

Sometimes my old man gets exactly what he deserves and other times he deserved worse than he got. He spent 30 years either taking care of the three of us or just Mom, but either way it’s been hard on him to suddenly have nobody depending on him financially. To make up for it, he’s made a few poor choices as he’s eased back into the dating pool. He informed me tonight of something he’d kept quiet since it happened in November.

See, Dad still has Mom’s car. He bought it for her in ’85 and since it was nicer than the pickup he’s been driving since ‘82 he’s kept them both. Back in November he was getting his feet wet again with some needy chic looking for a sugar daddy. The woman, Gimme, was having car problems and rather than get hers fixed she asked to borrow my Dad’s. Or rather, my Mom’s. He agreed. After a reasonable amount of time passed he asked for the car back. She refused.

My old man got in his pickup, which burns a quart of oil on a good day for every tank of gas, and drove the 45 miles to Gimme’s house. She’d hidden the car somewhere nearby and refused to hand over the keys. He stood on her doorstep and phoned 911 to report a car theft. Gimme opened the door, threw the keys at him, and slammed it shut again. The cops gave my old man a ride around the area to find Mom’s car parked a few blocks away. He dropped the charge, the cops left, and now my old man discovered he was in one hell of a predicament. He was 45 miles from home with two vehicles. And did I mention too fucking proud to call Julie or myself or even Cuz to ask for help? He got himself into it, he was gonna get himself out of it.

He drove the car about a half mile, then ran back to where he’d left the truck. He drove the truck a half mile past the car, parked and ran back to the car. He did that for about 3 miles before he figured out he’d never get home before Christmas, so in a wave of genius he parked the car in a safe location then drove home and borrowed the 8 year old neighbor’s pink bicycle. Over the next several days my father could be seen along the shoulder of IH-10 westbound from Louisiana to Texas, pedaling furiously with his ass up in the air like the wicked witch of the west on a little pink Huffy with streamers in the handlebars. With less than an hour of daylight after work each day it took him nearly all week to get both vehicles home. And this whole time he said not one damn word to any of us.

Stubborn son of a bitch.