Fire from the Hip: Thoughts on Sports & Real Life

During my high school years, Big Red wasn't my car. However, I still managed to pry it away from my parents on special occasions. Group trips with my friends to Cleveland and other places enabled me to cruise around in candy-apple red. However, trouble often accompanied these rare moments. The first time I took Big Red out with my friends was New Year's Eve during my senior year of high school. With five friends and plenty of beer, we headed to our destination: a buddy's house in Fremont, a town among the cornfields of Ohio. No drinking was involved before arrival at the house, but we were a rowdy bunch. Above the din of Fine Young Cannibal's "She Drives Me Crazy," a shout from the back seat informed me that I was going the wrong way.

If you asked me now what Big Red's capabilities are, I can tell you offhand. She does 75 just fine; 80 with the A/C on induces moderate vibrations. Anything over 85, the thing sounds like it is coming part. And I definitely know how much space she needs to pull a U-turn. Let me take you back to this dark country road far from New Year's Eve festivities in Times Square, I thought the van would respond to a confident tug on the wheel. We started to turn but before I completed the turn, we went off the far side of the road into somebody's yard. Unfortunately, there was also a bit of a dropoff between the road and the lawn, later referred to as a ditch by some. But when I think of a ditch, I think of cars being caught in them. (Note Photo 1).

That sleak Lxi, with leather interior and removable third seat, descended into the ditch with a bang before triumphantly emerging out onto the lawn and completing the ill-advised U-turn. It would be a couple of weeks before I would realize that Big Red had not gone unscathed. Rising early on that particular weekend morning just in time for NFL Countdown at noon, my father confronted me: "Nate, uhh, could you come out to the garage with me?" When my father made that foreboding comment, I battened down the hatches, preparing for the storm by racking my brain. I couldn't think of any loose ends I had failed to tie in any of my previous schemes. Then, he showed me the front of the Town and Country and I recalled the U-turn I had pulled. He was unpleased and the car remains unfixed almost five years later. Realize that the grass jammed into the end has been removed and overall, this picture fails to truely capture the damage.

It was the minivan's first bruise, but the second one would soon follow during that summer on a trip to Cleveland. My buddies and I decided to take in an Indians game. Backing out of my sister's driveway bleary-eyed the next morning, I managed to back the van into a water sproket on the side of the house. Terrified of what my parent's would say, I went straight to the dealership after returning to Toledo, and bought some candy-apple red touch-up paint. Slopping it on in the parking lot, I rushed off to work. A valuable lesson was learned: you can't cover up a ten inch long dent and scratch with broad brush strokes of touch-up paint. And if you embark on such a hopeless venture, at least wait for the paint to dry to avoid drips. The parents weren't pleased when I told them the next day and it turned out that my efforts to fix the mishap had resulted in a higher bill. And that is the story of how Big Red received her two major identifying marks that help her stand out from your average Town and Country, or worse Dodge Caravan.