Heirlooms

My husband tells this awesome story  about a family car ride he and his family went on when he was  younger.   His family consisted of 4 hoodlum boys, Mom and Dad.   I'll try to do the story justice because he tells it so well.  I'm adding some details to supah it up.

It's a gem-- a
Family  heirloom.


They had this big green station wagon that he tells me looked like this

You know this kinda "ride." The one that bounces you into the wheel well when you hit a bump-- cuz there aren't any seatbelts?

All 4 boys were piled into the back seat.  I imagine elbow shoving , farting and "staring" at each other.   Four boys…. 2 older, DBD and the youngest.    Shit kickin, BMX bike riding, stupid plan making, bone breaking, wedgie bustin trouble making hoodlums.  With buzzcuts.

Tie your sled to the BMX bike, let your brother pull you in the fresh fallen snow … directly into a parked truck.  Breaking your nose.

Those kinda boys.

Dear Jesus.  Thank you sir for giving me only girls. Amen and blessings.



All singing ass fart songs as Dad was driving down the highway.

Because ass fart songs are heirlooms---- ones that DBD enjoys teaching to my daughters.




So Dad was driving.  Dad's a hoot.   Big guy.  Slow southern drawl.  Originally from The "Carolina's"  Grew up husking Tobacco on a tobacco farm.  Amazing life.  Got the hell outta dodge when he turned 18! Went into the military.  God Bless Him.


Amen Dad.
Can you imagine working in a tobacco field for most of your  young life?   And adult life.  Then sayin EFF YOU to that back breaking labor-- only to enlist in the military.  FOR life.


Incredible work ethic--- that does not exist today.  Starting with moi.
An heirloom sadly not passed.


Anyways.. Dad's a hoot.  He moves slow, he talks slow, he a cool dude.   I like to think about him as a young father.  Whappin the boys upside the back of their heads, and specifically DBD a buttload of times.

   Perhaps I should get a broom like his mom used to do and freaking GO TO TOWN?


Everyone needs this old school shit.  Bring on the BROOMS!





Anyways.

Dad is driving.  I like to imagine him whistling the ass fart song along with his boys who are singing it in the back.  Mom is knitting next to him.  Because she was a SAINT.  The woman had cancer most of her life and her boys lives yet knitted hats for poor children in 3rd world countries.

Again.
Ethics.

Missing.

Where's the broom.

Arm restin' on the window ledge.   Cruisin in that big beast of  wagon.


All of the sudden dad starts SCREAMING!

OHHHHH!

OHHHHHHHHH!


Holding his arm.

OHHHH MY GODDAMN ARM!

MY GODDAMN ARM!  I'VE BEEN SHOT!!


Car swerving.
Oncoming traffic dodging the green beast with 4 buzzed hoodlums in the back seat.
Tumble weeds rollin along side the car ( cuz there are totally tumbleweeds in Colorado)

MY GODDAMN ARM!  




OHHHHHH



I THINK I'VE BEEN SHOT!


 PAT , I'VE BEEN SHOT! 


* I IMAGINE PAT ROLLED HER EYES A LITTLE. 


He pulls the car over to a stop.  Cradling his arm. The boys are piled on top of each other in the back seat wheel well… all dazed and beat up from pin balling it across the back seat during Dad's freak out time.


Just as he begins to survey the "shot" damage on his arm -- the hoodlums start FUCKING FLIPPING OUT in the back seat ---- screaming, scrambling and climbing over each other to get to the "back."

THEY'RE SCREAMING like idiots --- kicking each others heads landing on each other trying to now get out of the BACK WINDOW.



Turns out Dad was "shot" by a ……….


















massive bumble bee

traveling at 65 miles an hour.

The bumble bee lived to tell the tale in the back seat of the beast of a wagon and CAME BACK TO LIFE while the boys were staring at it.




I love heirlooms. :)  I wonder what stories my children will tell OVER AND OVER about me ---- that will make them laugh when they're having a rough day.