For today’s installment of Truthful Tuesday, I thought I’d share a bit of my personality.
See, I am a spazz.
I hear the craziest things that are completely unrelated to anything you were thinking, much less saying.
I can be slower than molasses in January.
I get overly enthusiastic and excited, and can run off before checking in with my brain at times.
I can have so much energy that I can’t seem to slow down enough for the little things.
It was this last example of my “spazziness” that I am going to talk about today. It probably shows my silly self better than most, and has stayed with me through the years.
It was sophomore year in high school. Both of my parents were working and I was coming home from school I guess. I pulled under the carport in my lovely Sable (black exterior with red interior — my favorite colors at one point, not realizing they’re hotter than sin in the South) and went to get out of the car.
The problem? My key wouldn’t come out! I knew I couldn’t very well leave it there with the engine running, but I didn’t want to leave, either. I am sure I considered driving somewhere, maybe to a friend’s house, but the fact that the key wouldn’t come out of the engine was apparently proof that my car was haunted or something, so I refused to leave.
I figured out that I was able to get out of the car, though. It just stayed there, idling and running. This was before the days of cellphones, so I went to the fence and found the hide-a-key, got inside and called my friend Stacey who lived about ten minutes away. Luckily her boyfriend (and now husband) Charlie was there — he was good at car stuff.
I explained the situation, which he immediately told me was impossible. I informed him impossible or not, it was the truth–I had a haunted vehicle and I needed help! They drove over and met me under the carport. Charlie sat in the driver’s seat, shook his head and chuckled.
Not a good sign.
He then lifted his hand, gripped the shifter thing (um, yeah, what is that called? The thing that puts the car in drive, park or reverse? I am going to blame my slow brain on the early hour. That’s my story and I’m sticking to it) and proceeded to put the car in PARK!!!
I had it in Neutral! He he! OOPS!
Of course, once it was in park, the key slid out quite easily. He handed me the keys, gave me a smile that made it obvious he was biting off a huge laugh in my face, and they got back in their car to go home.
He he.
So that, my friends, would be a classic example of “Pulling a Rachel.”
How about you? Have you “Pulled a Rachel?” Or maybe you’ve “Pulled a (insert your name here).” I’d love to hear about them in the comments!
Happy Writing!
