| ||||||||
|
|
Mother
Trucker PAGE
TWO: With a primal roar, "Major Thrust" then sprung to life and suddenly, we were flying across the parking lot like we were The Bandit, and the Alabama Smokies was on our ass. I'm not sure how fast we were going, exactly, but there were probably some G-forces involved. At first it was exhilarating, the way a roller coaster is the moment before you puke up your churro. The boys looked delighted. Sarah looked orgasmic. Then the driver abruptly slammed on the brakes, apparently trying to stop on a dime he'd seen lying on the pavement, and the truck came to a complete, shuddering stop. As we rocked back and forth from the jolt, our heads spinning, he stuck a fake steering wheel through the back window and yelled "Oops! Think I might need this?" I started to yell back that this wasn't the goddamn Blue Collar Comedy tour and could he please just get this Confederate torture ride over with, but by then we'd already started performing a series of nauseating, high-speed "doughnuts". (Which, in case you aren't from a town with a Dairy Queen, are 360-degree spins accompanied by yells of "Whoooo-wheeee!") At this point, the boys' screams became more of the silent, pale variety. Sarah seemed to be re-evaluating her life choices. And I was frozen in position with one arm over each of my boys, insanely hoping my untoned biceps could stop centrifugal force. Oh, it was wonderful. And then, with a growl and a squeal, we spun out of our last doughnut, streaked 50 feet over to where we'd started and came to a final, jarring stop. I cautiously opened my eyes and did a quick body count. Incredibly, we had all survived. Even more incredible, barring any as-yet-undiagnosed internal injuries, we all seemed to be fine. We got out of our seats and staggered down the stairs to the pavement. Then the realization of what we'd just done hit me and I started to giggle hysterically. We were alive! I was alive! I mean, I was alive, man! I'd stared death in the face and the ugly bastard blinked! I went against every motherly instinct in my body and my kids were still OK! OMG! This was awesome! "Wasn't
that AMAZING?" I screamed. "Didn't you just LOVE IT? SUNDAY,
SUNDAY, SUNDAY!!! MONSTER TRUCK RALLY!! BE THERE!! WHOOOO!!!"
|
Once
inside the truck, I shakily sat down and tried not to think about
the duct tape/seatbelt securing me to my seat. The boys looked at
me and smiled. Sarah looked at me and grinned like a madwoman. I
realized then that she'd probably been secretly going to monster
truck jams for years. The wench. Then the driver of the monster
truck, who looked exactly like the driver of a monster truck, stuck
his head through the back window and asked "Are y'all ready?"
I took that to be Redneck for "Gets yoselfs right with God,"
and looked for my husband to tell him I loved him. And that he should
start taking pictures immediately for the upcoming lawsuit. I hoped
he would see me in the truck and be proud of me for overcoming my
fears. Proud of me for letting our kids stretch their wings. But
if he was, I didn't find out. He was busy getting Pennzoil stickers.
