Wet Roads, Speed, and a Curfew
"Caleb, wake up!"
I'm not the guy who awakens gradually or peacefully. I was up and reaching for my pants before my mind was fully engaged. As I fumbled about in the dark looking for something for my feet, my mind began to sputter into life.
"What's wrong? What am I doing?"
"Nick's been in an accident."
"Oh no, is he okay?"
"He's fine but your truck is in a ditch."
I started to believe that I was still asleep and all of this was just a dream. Wishful thinking, I suppose.
"Let's go get him but you drive, I'm still half asleep," I said.
As your mom drove me, I had many thoughts and questions that I dreaded the answers to. They mostly were about the condition of my vehicle. By this time I knew your brother was fine because he was directing your mom to his location via cell phone. It was very dark. He was somewhere in Collegedale near a farm. As we crept along the wet two-lane rural blacktop, it occurred to me that I had no idea where I was. I had never been on this road before. What was Nick doing out here? His present location was no where on his approved "flight plan" for the evening.
"What's he doing out here?" I asked.
"I have no idea but I'm sure he's coming up with something that he thinks we'll buy."
Our high beams caught the reflection of a car parked on the grass just off the roadway. Then a group of people and Nick became visible. We had reached ground zero but there was no ditch with a pick-up truck in it. We pulled over behind the car and I stepped out onto the wet grass. It had stormed earlier that evening and I could feel the humidity clinging to my skin. Nick and I saw each other and we walked toward each other.
"Where's the truck?"
"It's over there."
He was pointing in a direction well off the road that was shrouded in complete darkness.
"Show me."
The pitch black began to retreat as we slogged through the wet muddy grass. With each step I could see a little better. I remember wishing I had worn shoes instead of flip-flops. We were on the edge of someones cow pasture.
"There it is," Nick said.
I turned back to the road and estimated that we had walked about fifty yards from the road. I turned back to the truck and saw that it was completely installed in the ditch. The cars I usually encounter in ditches are normally situated nose down with the back end still exposed. From time to time just one side of the car goes into the ditch, leaving the other side pointed toward the sky. Nick had found a way to parallel park in his ditch. The fit was so snug that the doors of the truck would not open.
"How did you get out?" I asked.
"I crawled through the driver's window and walked across the hood to get back to this side of the ditch."
I continued to mentally process and inspect the scene. I saw that he tore down a section of barb wire fencing on his way to the ditch. It also became clear that he wasn't really in a ditch at all. Ditches are located at a road's edge not fifty or so yards off the road. My truck was in a creek bed inside somebody's cow yard. From it's present placement I couldn't determine the extent of the damages. I did decide that it was pretty "tore up." Now it was time for me to ask questions in a normal tone of voice while your brother responded with answers that remind me of the substance normally left behind by male bovines.
"Are any of the people by the road the owners of this property?"
"No, the owner lives a quarter mile down the road."
"How do you know?"
"A lady over there says she knows him."
"Has anyone gone to see him?"
"No but we did try to call him. The lady said that he is very old and isn't easily wakened after he goes to bed."
Now I began to ask the questions I really wanted the answers to.
"How did you get from over there on the road to all the way over here?"
"Once the truck left the road I lost control of it in the grass and mud."
"What do you suppose could have prevented the truck from entering the creek bed?"
"If your truck were equipped with off-road tires perhaps I would've kept it out of the creek."
I began to think that perhaps your brother's current dilemma was my fault because the truck was poorly equipped. I continued with my questions. The key to obtaining truthful answers from your brother is to already know what the answers are. I'm not the quickest draw in the west but anyone could have seen he was traveling far too fast for the conditions of the road. The posted speed limit was 30 mph. If I already knew the answers to my questions what was the point of the whole "interview" process? I wanted to see if he would claim personal responsibility for his recent choices. I've found that I can't attach another with blame. The blame or responsibility must be picked up by the one who owns it.
"What are you doing out here?"
"I have a friend who recently moved out here. I was invited to see his new place."
"Who's the friend?"
"Tyler M."
Tyler is three years older than Nick. He dropped out of high school two years ago. Circumstances last summer led me to decide that Nick was no longer permitted to hang out with him. It's a long story involving Marlboro Lights, adult beverages, and various articles of female under garments left behind at a camp site.
"It was understood that Tyler was not on your approved list of associates. Why then would you come out here already knowing you shouldn't?"
"I knew you would not have permitted it."
"You're right. If you would have followed my instructions you would not be in this mess." Rats! I broke my own rule. I hung the blame for his illicit visit to Tyler's on him. I should have allowed him to pick it up himself.
"Tell me how the truck got off the road."
"When I approached that curve over there I realized that I was going too fast because I began to slide off the road."
Maybe I was getting somewhere now. Maybe Nick was waking up.
"Do you recall how fast you were driving?"
"I think maybe around 50 mph."
Hmm, he's lucky to be conscious and standing here talking to me. He's fortunate that he wasn't killed if his estimation of his speed was accurate. I was glad your mom stayed with car by the road. She certainly would have vapor locked.
"You're lucky you aren't dead."
"Yeah, I know."
"You don't know Jack S#%t" I thought only to myself. I could see that his personal sense of mortality was not something I was going to tackle right now.
"Why would you drive so fast?"
"I was trying to make curfew."
"Maybe you should have started for home earlier."
"Maybe mom should have given me a fifteen minute extension."
In the events that followed I never asked your mom to verify this part of his story. I forgot about it.
"Did you call and ask your mom for an extension?"
"Yes, but she said no."
"Don't you think it would have made more sense to drive safely and be late?"
"If I'm late then for a week I can only drive back and forth to work."
I was starting to think that the unreasonableness of an 11:00 curfew was the cause of Nick's trouble. I think he believes that. I don't think it occurred to your brother that there's a county ordinance that mandates an 11pm curfew for people his age.
"What time is it?" I asked.
"Just after midnight."
"Looks like you missed your curfew."
"How am I going to go to work? What am I going to do now?"
"You're on your own son. I know how you're getting to work and I know what you are going to do. The problem is if I tell you the answers then in your brain it becomes my fault. You made this happen not me. You made one poor decision after the other tonight. You created these new problems, so you figure out how you're going to manage them."
"You suck, you're an a$$h013!"
"From anyone else I would be insulted, so thank you."
"Huh?"
"Let's go up and see if we can wake up that farmer."
After talking with the people on the roadside I understood that there was probably no point in rousing the old farmer, Mr. FG Longley. We wouldn't be able to remove the truck until morning anyway. One of the ladies said that she would call him early and let him know what was going on. I thanked her for her help and went home with your mom and brother.
More later..........
I'm not the guy who awakens gradually or peacefully. I was up and reaching for my pants before my mind was fully engaged. As I fumbled about in the dark looking for something for my feet, my mind began to sputter into life.
"What's wrong? What am I doing?"
"Nick's been in an accident."
"Oh no, is he okay?"
"He's fine but your truck is in a ditch."
I started to believe that I was still asleep and all of this was just a dream. Wishful thinking, I suppose.
"Let's go get him but you drive, I'm still half asleep," I said.
As your mom drove me, I had many thoughts and questions that I dreaded the answers to. They mostly were about the condition of my vehicle. By this time I knew your brother was fine because he was directing your mom to his location via cell phone. It was very dark. He was somewhere in Collegedale near a farm. As we crept along the wet two-lane rural blacktop, it occurred to me that I had no idea where I was. I had never been on this road before. What was Nick doing out here? His present location was no where on his approved "flight plan" for the evening.
"What's he doing out here?" I asked.
"I have no idea but I'm sure he's coming up with something that he thinks we'll buy."
Our high beams caught the reflection of a car parked on the grass just off the roadway. Then a group of people and Nick became visible. We had reached ground zero but there was no ditch with a pick-up truck in it. We pulled over behind the car and I stepped out onto the wet grass. It had stormed earlier that evening and I could feel the humidity clinging to my skin. Nick and I saw each other and we walked toward each other.
"Where's the truck?"
"It's over there."
He was pointing in a direction well off the road that was shrouded in complete darkness.
"Show me."
The pitch black began to retreat as we slogged through the wet muddy grass. With each step I could see a little better. I remember wishing I had worn shoes instead of flip-flops. We were on the edge of someones cow pasture.
"There it is," Nick said.
I turned back to the road and estimated that we had walked about fifty yards from the road. I turned back to the truck and saw that it was completely installed in the ditch. The cars I usually encounter in ditches are normally situated nose down with the back end still exposed. From time to time just one side of the car goes into the ditch, leaving the other side pointed toward the sky. Nick had found a way to parallel park in his ditch. The fit was so snug that the doors of the truck would not open.
"How did you get out?" I asked.
"I crawled through the driver's window and walked across the hood to get back to this side of the ditch."
I continued to mentally process and inspect the scene. I saw that he tore down a section of barb wire fencing on his way to the ditch. It also became clear that he wasn't really in a ditch at all. Ditches are located at a road's edge not fifty or so yards off the road. My truck was in a creek bed inside somebody's cow yard. From it's present placement I couldn't determine the extent of the damages. I did decide that it was pretty "tore up." Now it was time for me to ask questions in a normal tone of voice while your brother responded with answers that remind me of the substance normally left behind by male bovines.
"Are any of the people by the road the owners of this property?"
"No, the owner lives a quarter mile down the road."
"How do you know?"
"A lady over there says she knows him."
"Has anyone gone to see him?"
"No but we did try to call him. The lady said that he is very old and isn't easily wakened after he goes to bed."
Now I began to ask the questions I really wanted the answers to.
"How did you get from over there on the road to all the way over here?"
"Once the truck left the road I lost control of it in the grass and mud."
"What do you suppose could have prevented the truck from entering the creek bed?"
"If your truck were equipped with off-road tires perhaps I would've kept it out of the creek."
I began to think that perhaps your brother's current dilemma was my fault because the truck was poorly equipped. I continued with my questions. The key to obtaining truthful answers from your brother is to already know what the answers are. I'm not the quickest draw in the west but anyone could have seen he was traveling far too fast for the conditions of the road. The posted speed limit was 30 mph. If I already knew the answers to my questions what was the point of the whole "interview" process? I wanted to see if he would claim personal responsibility for his recent choices. I've found that I can't attach another with blame. The blame or responsibility must be picked up by the one who owns it.
"What are you doing out here?"
"I have a friend who recently moved out here. I was invited to see his new place."
"Who's the friend?"
"Tyler M."
Tyler is three years older than Nick. He dropped out of high school two years ago. Circumstances last summer led me to decide that Nick was no longer permitted to hang out with him. It's a long story involving Marlboro Lights, adult beverages, and various articles of female under garments left behind at a camp site.
"It was understood that Tyler was not on your approved list of associates. Why then would you come out here already knowing you shouldn't?"
"I knew you would not have permitted it."
"You're right. If you would have followed my instructions you would not be in this mess." Rats! I broke my own rule. I hung the blame for his illicit visit to Tyler's on him. I should have allowed him to pick it up himself.
"Tell me how the truck got off the road."
"When I approached that curve over there I realized that I was going too fast because I began to slide off the road."
Maybe I was getting somewhere now. Maybe Nick was waking up.
"Do you recall how fast you were driving?"
"I think maybe around 50 mph."
Hmm, he's lucky to be conscious and standing here talking to me. He's fortunate that he wasn't killed if his estimation of his speed was accurate. I was glad your mom stayed with car by the road. She certainly would have vapor locked.
"You're lucky you aren't dead."
"Yeah, I know."
"You don't know Jack S#%t" I thought only to myself. I could see that his personal sense of mortality was not something I was going to tackle right now.
"Why would you drive so fast?"
"I was trying to make curfew."
"Maybe you should have started for home earlier."
"Maybe mom should have given me a fifteen minute extension."
In the events that followed I never asked your mom to verify this part of his story. I forgot about it.
"Did you call and ask your mom for an extension?"
"Yes, but she said no."
"Don't you think it would have made more sense to drive safely and be late?"
"If I'm late then for a week I can only drive back and forth to work."
I was starting to think that the unreasonableness of an 11:00 curfew was the cause of Nick's trouble. I think he believes that. I don't think it occurred to your brother that there's a county ordinance that mandates an 11pm curfew for people his age.
"What time is it?" I asked.
"Just after midnight."
"Looks like you missed your curfew."
"How am I going to go to work? What am I going to do now?"
"You're on your own son. I know how you're getting to work and I know what you are going to do. The problem is if I tell you the answers then in your brain it becomes my fault. You made this happen not me. You made one poor decision after the other tonight. You created these new problems, so you figure out how you're going to manage them."
"You suck, you're an a$$h013!"
"From anyone else I would be insulted, so thank you."
"Huh?"
"Let's go up and see if we can wake up that farmer."
After talking with the people on the roadside I understood that there was probably no point in rousing the old farmer, Mr. FG Longley. We wouldn't be able to remove the truck until morning anyway. One of the ladies said that she would call him early and let him know what was going on. I thanked her for her help and went home with your mom and brother.
More later..........
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