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Pastimes : The Scariest Moment of Your Life -- Ignore unavailable to you. Want to Upgrade?

To: Bob who wrote (35)	4/18/2003 8:36:26 PM
From: Lazarus_Long	Read Replies (1) \| Respond to of 93

We would have made it on our own around 5 in the morning, starting at 5PM. Yeah, but you would have been a shoe-in for the winter olympics. :-) More water. siliconinvestor.com

To: Bob who wrote (35)	4/18/2003 9:23:19 PM
From: Steve Felix	1 Recommendation Read Replies (6) \| Respond to of 93

Heres mine. No water. I was 16. Been driving about two months. My father came home, once again, having had one two many. He begins to get physical with my mother. For the umpteenth time I curse him and call him sob, mf, etc., in order to draw his attention. I did. You must appreciate that he was in the prime of life and worked heavy construction. If he catches me at that moment I will be hospitalized. With his first move toward me I am out the front door and heading toward my car, a 1960 Buick Lesabre. Heavy as hell, but no speed. I wasn't fast enough either. I had to duck away from the car to keep alive. He then proceeded to get in, pop the hood, and remove the coil wire, throwing it about ten feet away. I had been standing, watching, but now the chase was on. I ran about two hundred yards to the end of the road, hopped a stone fence and proceeded across a field, having never looked back. Hearing his steps still on the road, I knew I was now pulling away from him. Damn cigarettes!!! By the time he got over the stone fence he had had it. I cursed him some more, called him an old man and circled around at a trot toward the house. I had the coil wire back on, had backed out, and was heading up the road by the time he got to the front yard. I had gone half of the two miles to town, thinking that I should go back and check on my mother, when I saw his 66 Buick Skylark with the 355 Wildcat in it, coming up behind me fast. Going down the final hill into town, he passed me, swerved in front and hit the brakes. Seeing it coming, I swerved left and went around him. I didn't bother to stop at the stop sign at the bottom of the hill, just somehow made a right onto the main street. Up ahead were two cars sitting at a red light! At the last second I turned into the parking lot of a steakhouse, and upon realizing there was no other exit, did an apple in the parking lot, facing out again. By this time he was turning in and tried to get in front to block my leaving. Luckily the entrance was wide enough that I could get by, but I couldn't pull out because of traffic coming on my left. The next thing I know something hits my back bumper and I am going forward. My father was trying to push me out into traffic. Luckily the old LeSabre was way heavier than they make cars now. I had my ass up off of the seat pushing on the brake with both feet. Smoke was rolling off of his tires. When I could turn, I did, going through the light and making a left. He must have started coming to his senses, as he turned right after the light. I pulled over as soon as I could and shook like a leaf. Epilog: I spent the night in my car, thinking that here I am, no money, no other clothes, and I didn't dare go home. The next day when I knew he would be working I went home, got some clothes and went to an aunts house. This went well for about three days. Then I went home again to get more clothes and my mother tells me that dad is giving me to the end of the week to come home or he will have the cops bring me home. Not only that, but I am to apologize to him??????? When he got home Friday night I was sitting at the kitchen table. Mom was putting the meal on the table. Nobody said a word. Dad just buried his nose in the paper as always. When we were done eating, he looked at me and asked me if I had anything to say to him. I said no. He never said a word. I think he was too embarrassed. It is amazing what sticks inside a person. Six years later I was having a few too many myself. I was shooting pool in a club I had never been in before. Someone asked my name and one thing led to another. This guy I had never before met, told me how great a guy my dad was. I told him my dad was an asshole. He said that I wouldn't say that if my dad was there. To make a long story shorter, before the night was over I had gone to dads' house and knocked him to the floor. That actually started a relationship that grew better and better as the years went by. By the time dad died, too young, at sixty four, we were really good friends. I miss him. Oh yeah, when I hear people talk about dysfunctional families, I laugh!