This weeks "QOTW" seems to have ended early, on Wednesday instead of Thursday, for some reason. Why so early? Are the Brits going on holiday? I don't know (and that may be part of the problem).
Once again, this week, I failed in my struggle to reach the "Best" answers Web Page, but some of the B3tans try to help me out, to lift my story above the common level.
Here is the "QOTW", followed by my story, and their suggestions. And this event actually happened, back in high school, about 1974, on a stretch of dirt road just SW of San Luis, NM, near Cabezon, about eighty miles NW of Albuquerque:
"Here in my car", said 80s pop hero Gary Numan, "I feel safest of all". He obviously never shared the same stretch of road as me, then. Automotive tales of mirth and woe, please.
We were exploring remote, rural New Mexico one bright, sunny Sunday. My friend was driving his parents' aging road yacht down an unfamiliar desert road when we approached the rails of a cattle guard (or grid).
Just as we got to the cattle guard, the car came to an instantaneous halt. My friend bloodied his nose on the steering wheel and I shattered the windshield with my forehead.
But what did we hit? Staggering out of the car, spattered with blood, we could see there was no obstruction to our travel, none at all. But we obviously had to have collided with *something*, right? But what was that *something*. Air? Unobserved cows? N-dimensional wormholes? Was this some bizarre trick? Did some unobserved person tie the back bumper to a fence post, perhaps? But how? What happened?
The explanation was strange. The car had been pitching forward-and-back on its aging shocks while rolling down the washboard dirt road. The car pitched forward just as we reached the first iron rail of the cattle guard. Under the car, the tip of the car's "A"-frame dipped far enough down to just clip the top of the iron rail. Resistable force hit immovable object. Bang! Immediate stop!
In addition, the impact damaged the suspension. The front tires splayed open at a frightening angle. The tires could no longer roll efficiently. Once we hit pavement, the splayed, smoking tires squealed like a chorus of hell's demons for the eighty miles back to civilization.
My friend's parents never believed the vengeful cattle guard story. They preferred to believe we panicked after driving over parking barriers.
(Marc Valdez)Nicely written
You make a car accident sound like an Annie Proulx short story. ALthough it needs more gay cowboys.
(Smale is stuffed)The World
Needs more gay cowboys
(Draco Rattus)I believe in giving B3tans what they want
With blood dribbling onto his lips, my friend turned towards me and said, "I wish I knew how to quit you." Dazed by my concussion, I turned and ran into the desert....
(Hmmm....Won't work....Unsatisfactory conclusion....
Or am I just resisting the inevitable pull of the storyline?
I need help....)