Saturday February 05, 2005

If you read my new year's resolutions, you'd know that I'm trying to turn my journal entries into more of a storytelling outlet instead of just posting boring reports on things such as how my classes are going. Those suck.

Problem is, nothing really interesting happens to me while sitting in a classroom taking notes. It's out in the world dealing with people that interesting things happen. And since I no longer have a job and avoid the world at all costs, none of those interesting things happen to me anymore. But wait. I used to have a job. And I kept a journal back in those days. So I should have some stories saved up. And I do. So here's a little flashback to Thursday, July 25th, 2002...

Oh, wait. A little background info might be useful for those who don't know me that well or forgot what job I had. I used to be a parts runner at an auto repair shop. As part of my job there, I drove people home or to work when they dropped their cars off to be worked on. That was until they moved me up to a sort of mechanic, even though I didn't really know how to do a damn thing, and hired someone to replace me as parts runner. This took place sometime after that happened...
 

Thursday July 25, 2002

 Brian, the new parts runner, went on a two or three day vacation starting today, so I was moved back down to “gopher” for the shop. After a few weeks of standing around the shop bored out of my mind, I can’t say I’m not glad. Sure, doing a brake job every once in a while is OK. I don’t get too many of those though. And when I do get them, I seem to get them at after 3 o’clock and on car that must go that day. Anyway, I’m glad to be doing a little running again. I’ll just leave it at that. The main reason is it gets me the hell away from that place for a while. But a close second is it provides for some pretty interesting encounters; the stripper-drive for example. 

Today was no different. I had to drive home this somewhat strange individual because Billy, the least competent of the mechanics, broke the window in the man’s car twice and we’re waiting on replacement glass number two, which should be coming tomorrow morning. Anyway, this dude and I get in the car, and I back out of the parking space, pull up to the exit of the parking lot, sit there for a moment, then ask him where I’m taking him. Apparently he didn’t feel that I needed to know that information right away. He tells me his address, and of course I don’t know where this little residential street is in a city that contains thousands just like it. 

In an attempt to get me to realize where this street was, he asks if I know where a number of strips clubs and fast food restaurants along Amarillo Blvd are. Like I cruise Amarillo Blvd very often. I’m not too interested in picking up prostitutes or even looking for one worthy of being pelted with pennies. Finally, he gets the point that I don’t live in nor explore the poor part of Amarillo and just gives me the basics. Head north, turn right when I tell ya, turn left when I tell ya, and we’ll get there eventually. 

It’s when we arrived at his house that things got interesting. After he asked me how much we’d charge him to fix the automatic seatbelts in his car like I was a walking, talking estimate guide, I figured he knew how the automatic seatbelts in the car I was taking him home in functioned. I was wrong. Without opening the door which would remove the seatbelt, he ducked down and struggled to get the belt over his head. After he reached the halfway point in the ordeal, I debated with myself whether or not to tell him that opening the door is all he needed to do. I decided that the less humiliating thing to do for him would be to allow him to finish the ongoing wrestling match he’s having rather than insult his intelligence by explaining to him exactly how a seatbelt works. 

He eventually gets it over head and is free to leave the car. That’s when he opens the door, and the seatbelt tries to remove itself. It slides forward toward the back of his head, and round two is officially underway. I’ll not bore myself with drawing it out though and just say despite the attack from behind, the seatbelt lost again and the man was able to freely leave the car. As I pulled away I couldn’t help but have a good laugh.

A classic, wouldn't you say? I thought it was funny at the time. Maybe I'll post some more once I go through some more old journal entries. I really wish I still had the stripper-drive story somewhere. That one was far more interesting. I'd re-create it, but I don't trust my memory to remember all the funny little details. Maybe I'll give it a shot.