A little set up. Before I went to the bank to deposit about $37.50 worth of checks, (kids, find a different profession than freelance artist) I did a 'lil grocery shoppin' at Jewel. The parking lot is set up the usual way with yellow painted stripes making up the parking lanes where you end up face to face with the car in the next row. When I came out, the car in front of me had left, so I just zipped forward through the empty space and on my merry way. Long dull story even longer and duller, I pull into the bank lot which seems to be set up the same way (keep in mind I've been there 200 times before) facing another car in the adjoining row.
I do my Bank of America business, jump back in, and see that the coast is clear, the car that was in front of me is gone. My wee brain remembers how I left the last lot, so I put the '98 Pasatt in drive and hit the gas to repeat going through the empty space. Imagine BA-BAM! combined with CA-CRK!! and a heapin' helpin' of KR-CHUNK!!! as the front of the car inexplicably shoots into the air then smashes back down. "What the...!" I jump out to discover the reason. The riveted in the ground, 300 pound, 10 inch high, 5 foot wide, concrete parking stop that is now smack dab doodle under my car. Random thoughts- Can I redo the last 30 seconds of my life? What expensive auto parts did I just smash? Why am I am such a G*******D DOPE!
I try driving easing it back up and over in reverse "gently" 'cause I didn't want to crunch the underside of the car in FRONT of the tires too, but it ain't happenin'. Next plan, I dash back inside the bank and recruit 6 fellers to try 'n lift the car back off the block. They all must have done stupid in theirs lives too which bonded us, 'cause it wasn't that difficult to get their help. No luck, we couldn't get the car back off. Not that anyone was really killing themselves (what do I want for free?!). Should have recruited a group of women to watch us flex 'n strain forcing us to man up. I probably could have whittled blocks of wood with a 90% angle that the tires could have easily gone up and down, but... (refer to the previous "I'm a G*******D DOPE" statement).
I took a mile and a half head bowed feet dragging walk of shame to local Pete's Auto to tell my tale of woe and stupidity. Pete was nice enough not to laugh, (I figured he'd chuckle later when he wrote the bill) and sent out a tow truck. Should take about 20 minutes he guessed. Two hours later Pete explains that the tow truck couldn't pull it off the concrete and they had to spend quite awhile smashing it to 'lil bits with a sledgehammer before being able to hook it up to the tow truck. Apparently all the bank patrons, employees and president watched the process. I was glad for the small bit of mercy that I wasn't there to be the center of attention as they laughed and pointed. Once the car got back Pete hoisted it up on the lift. I sat down and silently said goodbye to the remains of my savings account ready for the news of the $1500 in repairs to the drive shaft carb generator transmission dohicky.
Pete asked if I wanted to pay the $75 tow charge in cash or credit. No damage.
How did I make a difference in the world we live in (since you're probably expecting the title to tie into the story at some point)? How can just one humble man forever change things for the better?Just take a drive yourself to the corner of Cicero and Peterson and peek in the Bank of America lot. I've only seen it through binoculars, since I've yet to return, but, because of me, ALL the concrete block have been removed and yellow stripes, the way God intended, now mark the spaces.
You're welcome America!