Horn blows? What about the driver?

It's the time of year again for all of us to give thanks.  Thanks for our health. Our home.  Our jobs.  Our livelihoods. Our family and our friends.  And me, I'm thankful that I have a great job with one of the greatest friends anyone could ever have.  My man Jason Childs. 

If you've read my little blog before you know who Jason is, what he does and what he means to me. So I feel obligated to share with you one of the fondest memories I have about Jay.  It may be a little embarrassing for him, but damn it, its a funny story, and it's too good not to share with you all.  

So have fun, give thanks, and read on...

 

It was our Junior Year of high school.  Jason was the first real friend I had who had his driver's license.  And we, much like a lot of 16 and 17 year olds, went for a lot of really unnecessary drives.  We would just drive to Cumberland Farms and buy crappy snacks, or just drive to Augusta for the hell of it.  We'd listen to music and make compilation CDs and sing along to Linkin Park, System of a Down and even Dr. Dre and Eminem.  But there was one drive that would become very, very necessary and would live on for years to come.

Jason had just had a very bad fight with his high school sweetheart.  In fact, I believe that they had just broken up.  He was very distraught.  Downright angry.  I tried my best to sympathize with him.  It was difficult because I didn't have a lot of high school romances.  But I tried my best.  We decided that we would leave the high school and go for a cruise.  We'd talk it out.  Or rather he would talk and I would listen.  

He cried a little, swore a lot.  And Jason does this thing when he gets mad where he'll ball up his fist and smash any inanimate object that just happens to be within striking distance.  Today it was his car's horn.

Now, Jason's car wasn't exactly what you would call cherry.  It was a Geo Prism.  A delightful brown with tan interior.  I think that I will remember what the passenger side of that car looked like until the day I die. But I digress.  That little Prism was the first taste of freedom that The Man-Childs and I had as young adults.  He "got lucky" in that car.  I heard about him "getting lucky" in that car.  We tried to outrun the police in that car.  We almost got pulled out and arrested in that car.  The Prism was a jack of all trades.  

Not THE Prism, but its close enough.

The Prism was a funny car, not just because of its size and color, but because our head football coach had an identical car to Jason's.  Not similar.  IDENTICAL.  They were the same car.  Believe it or not, Jason's key actually fit the lock and yes, even the ignition of Coach's car.  We discovered this and proceeded to drive Coach's car up a small hill that consisted of nothing but sand and grass until it would go no further.  And left it there for him to find.  I don't think we were actually there for his reaction, but I'm sure he was less than thrilled.  

Back to Jason't Prism.  This thing thrived for years.  I'm pretty sure when he finally got rid of it it had something like 400,000 miles and if I remember correctly the driver's door wouldn't fully latch, but other than that the thing was an absolute tank. It made it in and out of many a driveway during snow storms, got pulled and pushed out of ditches and if I had to venture a guess drove from Winthrop to McDonald's in Augusta 457 times.  Jason drove that thing everywhere.  It held up to everything.  Except when it's horn met Jason's fist.

In his fit of rage Jay rose his fist into the air and sent is crashing down onto the three dimensional globe logo in the middle of the horn three times.  And each time he struck it made a muffled "MEEP!"  Smash!  Meep!  Smash!  Meep!  Smash!  Meep!  Then a fourth and what turned out to be the final blow - the horn gave up the ghost and stayed on.  Smash!  Meeeeeeeeeeeeeeeep!

I don't know if this has ever happened to you, but have you ever been so mad, that you don't think you could get any more mad?  And then someone says something, or something happens and it just spirals you out of control and you become enraged?  Well when the crashing blow from his huge right hand made the horn of the Geo Prism stay on, Jason became a man possessed.  Sweat beaded up on his brow, his eyes became wide.  Veins bulged from his temples and arms and his face turned crimson.  Driving up Main Street in Winthrop Maine with his horn blaring the only thing on his mind, now, was getting this damn horn to turn off.  

Knowing Jason means you know the man is a specimen of a human being.  Pro Bodybuilder, 20 (or more) inch arms, phenomenal basketball player and all star wide receiver, Jason's body isn't the norm.  And one of the things that sets him apart from us mere mortals is he has very lengthy appendages.  He has long arms and long legs and huge hands.  He is the vanilla gorilla.  

Being the specimen that he is, he had used his brute strength to get this horn stuck in the "on" position, now he was using it to get it in the "off" position.  Bludgeoning it is what got him (us) here in the first place.  So using his huge hands, Jay opens his massive paws, latches on to the horn of the Prism and yanked it from the steering wheel.  The two components that touch to make the horn sound disconnected.  The pad with the three dimensional globe logo with yellow and red wires hanging from the back now sat in my friends grasping hand.  The horn was off and the steering wheel was essentially in two pieces.  

I didn't think the man driving this Geo Prism, holding the steering wheel in his left hand and the horn in his right could possibly get any angrier than he already was.  I was so wrong it was stupid. 

"Now what the f**k am I supposed to do?!" 

What I know/knew about cars is very minimal.  But using what little knowledge I had after witnessing the horn be pulled from its horn socket, I suggested that he just place it back from where it had once rested.  

My friend jammed the horn back where horns go, and with a little bit of finesse, and a little of the brute strength mentioned earlier, the horn was back in its horn home.  It wasn't blaring, and it wasn't in my friend's hand any more.  It seemed, at long last, the problem had been solved. 

I want you to keep in mind.  This is all happening as we are DRIVING.  

We went on about our merry way - the details on where we were going or what we were doing leave me now - but my bestie had calmed, he assured me that he was going to be alright.  The cruise had helped him cool off a little, even though the beginning was a little dicey.  Jason started back down Main Street to turn right at the bottom and drive up Route 133 and take me back home.

Much like any small town in the late afternoon there is a little bit of traffic.  We start down the steepest part of Main Street's hill and there are two cars in front of us.  We pass Ned's Place and come a bit closer to the cars in front of us.  A small pot hole rattles the interior of the Prism.  And a very quick, but very sharp "Meep!" blares from the horn.

Jason and I exchange a brief glance.  

We get closer to the bottom of the hill on Main street.  Another pot hole.  Another "Meep!"  Another brief glance, now with a bit more concern.  We now officially have the attention of the two cars in front of us. And most everyone on the sidewalk. 

In order to fully appreciate this you'd really have to know what Main Street in our little town of Winthrop looks like, and I hope that I'm painting a picture here, at the very bottom of the street there is a set of train tracks that protrude quite high and going over them in any vehicle makes quite jostle.  You can see where I'm going with this.  

Main Street.  Winthrop, ME

The first car bounces over the tracks and slows at the yield sign. The second crosses the tracks and pulls up behind car number one.  Here come Jason, Kyle and the Prism. We cross the tracks.  The shock absorbers absorb some of the shock, our heads rattle side to side a little and the horn again makes its presence know.  "Meep!  Me-meep!  Mee-Meep-meep!"  The driver of the second car actually turns around and gives us a look.

Wouldn't you know it, those two cars are apparently heading the exact same direction we are.  And the train tracks really pissed off the injured horn because now its just going off at random times all the way up Route 133.  "Meep!  Meep-Meep!  Meee-Mep!"

The drivers of the two cars in front of us are turning around, waving their hands in the air as if to say "what's your problem?!"

As a gesture of good will, Jason rolls his window down, sticks his left arm, shoulder, half his torso and head out the window and is yelling at these two cars "I JUST BROKE MY HORN! (MEEP!) MY HORN IS BROKEN! (MEE-MEEP-MEEP)  THIS ISN'T FOR YOU! (MEEEEEP)  IT'S JUST MY BROKEN HORN!"

I'm 100 percent certain that they believed him.

This is where I got out of the Prism.  Jason and I said our good byes for the day and he headed home.  I think that I heard one or two meeps as he drove off, but I'm not certain.  I'm also not certain how long his horn hung from the red and yellow wires that protruded from the steering wheel but he did eventually get it fixed.   

The moral of this story?  There really isn't one.  I just wanted to share with you one of the greatest stories I have ever told about one of the greatest guys I will ever know.