GOODNIGHT, FUCKERS #416: THE FIRST TIME I EVER DROVE

This is probably how Gramps saw me at the time

 

I remember the first time I got behind the wheel of a car and drove. I terrified everyone involved. I was about five years old.

Gramps had a boat of a Chevy in those days. I watched The Dukes of Hazzard religiously as a child, so it should come as no surprise that I didn't open the door of the car to get in. No, I jumped through the window feet first like them Duke boys. It irritated the shit out of Mom and Grandma, but Gramps thought it was fine. I remember long night drives while laying on the shelf just below the back glass of this car. The car had seatbelts, but we never wore them. Sometimes I marvel at how I survived my childhood.

Anyway, the day in question, Gramps was supposed to take me to preschool to drop me off. He'd already started the car, but he forgot something inside, so he went back in the house. At the time, I used to pretend to drive every chance I got. Usually the car wasn't on, so I didn't expect anything to happen when I grabbed the shifter and put the car into reverse.

The car slowly moved backwards down the driveway toward the street. For a second I panicked, but then I realized I was driving, and that was pretty cool. My feet couldn't reach the pedal, thankfully, so the car continued to crawl backwards. I steered the car pretty well, if I don't say so myself, looking back just like Gramps always did when in reverse. Well, I had to boost myself up a bit. Gramps always put his arm over the top of the bench seat when doing this. I grabbed the top and pulled myself up so I could see.

I reached the street, where I was supposed to turn the wheel, but I realized that I was supposed to hit the brake while doing this. Like I said, my foot couldn't reach, and that's when true panic set in. I realized I had no idea what the fuck I was doing, and I was powerless to stop the vehicle as it backed up into the neighbor's driveway across the street from home. Very slowly the back of the car approached their garage door, and I figured that I was just going to crash into it. I braced for impact.

Gramps suddenly appeared next to the car, and he reached into the window and threw the car into park. I was going slow enough that it didn't throw out the transmission or anything, but he looked scared as all shit. He caught his breath, and then fear turned to anger, and he yelled at me for a while. As he should have, I think.

Guess who stopped playing driving games after that. This guy, right here. *hooks thumbs back*

Gramps had to run pretty quickly to catch up with me. I wish I'd seen it because he was never much of a runner. I don't think I've ever seen him run in his entire life. I'm sure it would have been a scene to behold.

GOODNIGHT, FUCKERS #54: HAZZARD COUNTY

When I was a kid, I drove my grandparents crazy with my constant, undying need to enter a car through an open window rather than opening the door like a decent human being. I'd just grab the roof and jump up, and for the most part, I'd glide through the window like an acrobat and land in the passenger seat. (There were a few times when it just didn't work out. Painful times.)


I had this obsession because back then, I was a huge fan of THE DUKES OF HAZZARD. It's not as fucking weird as you would think. Kids love explosions. They love car stunts. They love high speed chases. But more than these things, they love to see a bumbling idiot get ridiculed, especially if that bumbling idiot is an authority figure. Yet even more than that, they love to see mean assholes get thwarted. Constantly.


THE DUKES OF HAZZARD had these things, so I watched it pretty religiously. I couldn't give two tugs of a dead dog's cock about southern culture or any of that yee-haw garbage. I just loved that other shit. But most importantly, them Duke boys shore knew how to get in a car.


As an adult, I've watched a few episodes, and they're awful. But as a boozehound, I DO appreciate a family bootlegging business, and I enjoy this particular aspect of the show. (Plus I appreciate seeing authority figures as bumbling idiots and mean assholes getting bent over at every opportunity.)


But even now, as an adult, I have a particular problem. I don't see a parked car with an open window often in these modern times, but when I do, I have an overwhelming urge to grab the roof, jump up and then glide into the passenger seat.