Author:
Anonymous
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Date Posted: 17:25:34 02/10/03 Mon
One Friday night after a football game when I was a junior in band, my brother (who is a year and a half older than myself and had already graduated) and I asked our parents if we could go have pizza afterwards with the rest of our gang in band, the usual thing. They said yes but don't stay out late and be very careful driving, the usual thing.
So we went out in his nice and shiny black 1976 Cutlass Supreme but instead of going for pizzas, we ended up at the house of a girl who was in my grade whom my brother fancied a bit. My brother, yearning to spend some quality time alone with the young lady, suggested that I take his babemobile for a spin. In other words get lost, then come back and pick me up. I had no problem with this, for being a younger brother, I was accustomed to taking orders from my older and infinitely wiser brother. And anyway this was one order I didn't mind receiving. There was only one problem though, since our parents were old fashioned, they didn't think we needed our drivers license (or a car for that matter) until our senior year in high school. Hence, I didn't have my drivers license yet. I asked my brother "are you sure?" He just looked at me with the grin of a fox who'd just found a hole in the chicken wire and said "Yes, and take your time." Well, I'm not one to look a gift horse in the mouth, so off I went.
We lived on the outskirts of northwest San Antonio so there were miles and miles of back roads on which a young man in a babemobile with no drivers license could travel. I was on my way back to my brother when I was coming over a hill. There I was met by the headlights of an oncoming car; a car which was driving very slow and blinding me with its headlights. I was traveling approximately 35 to 40 mph, which was about the legal speed limit. Well, immediately after passing the slow moving car with blinding headlights, my eyes readjusted to find out why the car was traveling so slow. A red and white Hereford cow with a surprised look on her face that could only be equaled by the surprised look on mine was standing in my lane, directly in front of the drivers side of the car, facing straight at me. By the time I hit the brakes and started to slide, it was too late. Bessie was going down. Bessie's cranium did considerable damage to the front of my brother's car before she compacted into one huge ball o' beef, then catapulted off the front of the car and went bouncing and skittering down the road. It was a good example of inertia and the transference of energy, kind of like a dangerous and senseless science experiment. The image haunts me to this day. I immediately went back to my brother and mustered up the courage to tell him about my close encounter of the worst kind. To make things worse (and weirder), when we went back to where the auto/bovine accident occurred, there was no cow to be found. Either Bessie was one mighty tough bovine or a meat purveyor truck just happened to be in the neighborhood immediately following the mishap.
Anyway on the way home that night, we decided to tell our parents that my brother was driving because I didn't have a license and because we didn't want to have to explain why I was driving the car in the first place. We also decided not to risk asking them if we could go out for pizza (or hamburgers either, for that matter) after the game for a couple of weeks, or at least not until things cooled down a bit.
With our parents, the statute of limitations never runs out on moving violations that endanger lives (or livestock) and we never did tell them the "real" story about how the car got dented, so I'm keeping my brother's and my identity anonymous for obvious reasons.
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