The Hellis 100 (61-70)
By now most of you have figured out that my three favorite things in life (behind New England sports teams) are music, cars and men. While those three things are fine individually, when I combine them I find myself in trouble. So for the next installment of The Hellis 100 I give you:
THE TOP TEN MUSIC, CARS AND MEN MASH-UPS OF MY LIFE
I’ve decided to divide this list into three categories; accidents ending in hospital transports, angry boyfriend induced recklessness (get used to seeing the letters “HR” here) and sheer stupidity. I’ll start the list with “accidents ending in hospital transports.”
10. HUNG A PINTO IN A TREE
Yes, I really hung a Pinto in a tree while drag racing my boyfriend. But to be honest, it was one of those south Florida scrubby trees so I didn’t catch the epic air you may be thinking I did. I’ll say this for Ford; they did a hell of a job on the ’76 Pinto. That sucker drove away once the Ft. Lauderdale road crews pulled it down. That’s what my boyfriend told me since at the time I was in the hospital getting checked out from the fall I took as I climbed out of the tree. The accident itself didn’t leave a scratch on me. Here’s the song that was playing at the time:
9. PLOWED AN OLDSMOBILE INTO A GUARD RAIL
At first I wasn’t sure if I should include this incident as I wasn’t the one driving, but I decided it qualifies because: A) a boy most DEFINITELY was involved and: B) so was a song; a song that to this day I refuse to listen to while in a car. This highway wipe-out lead to an ER visit and a free pass for my friends and I to screw around in the high school elevator for weeks following. The song involved was:
8. PINNED MYSELF UNDER A KAWASAKI NINJA 750
Ladies, listen up. When your boyfriend tells you that there’s a difference between riding a classic bike and a crotch rocket, listen to him. No matter how bad you want to punch him straight in his cocky face. That’s right, HR. I went there. And while there was no music playing when I dumped this bike, every time I hear this song I think of that night, and remember wondering if the ambulance was going to find me in the middle of nowhere.
Now we’ll move onto “angry boyfriend induced recklessness” with:
7. SUNK A SUZUKI IN A SWAMP
By now you may have noticed that I don’t like admitting when I don’t know how to do something a boy can do; so you can imagine how I handled my boyfriend telling me that men drive stick better than women. For the record, the boyfriend in question wasn’t HR (don’t believe what HR says; I taught him to drive standard). No, this boyfriend was a good ole boy from Tallahassee who just may have been the world’s biggest Hank Williams III fan. Sadly, he was also a Tampa Bay fan (sorry, Dayton). I’ll spare you the gory details of my “didn’t know what he meant by downshift” reaction as I drove straight into the swamp and instead I’ll just say this: I blame Hank.
6. GOT CAUGHT GIVING A HANDJ*B WHILE DRIVING A CARMEN GHIA CONVERTIBLE
Look away, HR. This was before you but after number seven up there. By the time I had the opportunity to drive my then boyfriend Rick’s Carmen Ghia I had learned to drive a standard properly. However, the stick I was handling at the time belonged to his best friend, Raphael. What can I say? Rick pissed me off. I get warm, fuzzy feelings every time I hear this song, as does the Broward County highway patrol; helicopter division.
5. EXPLODED A 4-RUNNER MOTOR INSIDE A TOYOTA CELICA
Alright, so this one may need some explanation. More than anything I love taking big motors and cramming them into small cars (paging Dr. Freud). So for my birthday my then boyfriend (yes, this is you HR) took a Toyota inline six motor normally found in the 4-Runner and dropped it into a 1984 Toyota Celica. For those of you who may not know this equals a whole lot of awesome, considering that my Celica was a rear-wheel drive five speed manual. Talk about a racer’s wet dream. That is until I blew a piston out the side of the engine block. I’ll defer to HR in the comments as to how I managed to do this. I’ll just say he and his boys pissed me off enough to take my anger out while listening to this song. You do the math.
4. STOLE A CORVETTE AND MET A SERIAL KILLER
After my Toyota debacle HR wouldn’t let me near any car he owned, especially his 1978 Silver Anniversary Edition Corvette. It took all of my feminine charms to persuade him to hand over the keys to his beloved Corvette. Alright, the truth is he was passed out cold and I stole them from his back pocket. TomAto, tomato. Needless to say I blew that car to smithereens as well and was offered a ride home from a trucker who I later found out was a wanted murderer. For the whole sordid story, go here. Pantera was the soundtrack to that night:
Now onto “sheer stupidity” with:
3. SPENT THE NIGHT WITH JEB ON A PARTY BUS LOADED WITH HIS STONED WRESTLING BUDDIES AT A MAYHEM CONCERT
Since the statute of limitations has not yet run out on this particular evening, I’ve decided not to tempt the Gods of “dodging a bullet” by declaring how motherf’in awesome that night was. I’ll just state for the record that I was not stoned nor was I driving. What happened to the party bus that night is God’s own personal mystery. I’ll let your imagination wander while you listen to my favorite Godsmack song of all time and the signature song of the evening:
2. BLIND NIGHT ON BALD MOUNTAIN ROAD
Did you ever do something so stupid that even while it was happening you were sure you were going to die? Well I did, and I have assigned that night of stupidity number two on this list. My brother’s best friend Rick (yes, that would be Carmen Ghia Rick) was not yet my boyfriend, but I sure wanted him to be. At the time Rick and my brother lived in Saratoga, New York which is a town with many winding mountain roads including the featured road of the evening, Bald Mountain. So when Rick called from a bar and asked me to drive my drunk ass brother’s car home I jumped at the chance to make time with my future boyfriend.
Then came the dare. The dare to follow Rick home while driving my brother’s Monte Carlo SS.
At 3:00 a.m.
With no headlights.
Yes, the whole “dare” was to see if I could keep up with Rick’s Carmen Ghia while I drove my brother’s Monte Carlo without the headlights on. Now Bald Mountain is a road that my brother described as knowing “better than the skin of his dick,” so I believed him when he said he’d be able to alert me to every corner and turn before they appeared. This sounded perfectly reasonable, until he passed out five minutes down the mountain. Obviously I made it through the whole winding nightmare with only Rick’s tail lights to guide me and yes, impressed the hell out of him enough to ask me out once we got home. At the time this was my brother’s favorite song, and the memory of that night is one of the happiest and scariest moments of my life.
1. FRANK STALLONE AND THE NEVER ENDING MASH-UP
Now that I am older and wiser (in other words, legally able to be tried as an adult) I make somewhat better choices where music, cars and men are concerned. For instance, I take full advantage of Prince Charming’s fire department scanner to let me know where the police are responding before I pick a road on the other side of town to catch air on. I’ve also found that my taste in music has begun leaning more toward classic than angry rock.
But the biggest change I made was my decision to replace men with cars; namely my 1968 Chevy Impala which I named Frank Stallone with…well, every man out there. Frank’s the perfect man for me; solid, dependable, quiet when I want him to be. Roars when I make him. Most days Frank and I are happy just to tool around town lost in our daydreams. And while his fantasies involve a certain Metallicar, my focus is more on the two boys inside it and my fantasy of being the center of a Jensen Ackles – Jared Padalecki sandwich.
If I were smart I’d end my post here and get to work on the writing I had planned for the weekend, but the phone call I got while writing this post pounded the hell out of my rebellion button. Yup, Jeb just called and told me to pack my shit because we’re off on an adventure to Connecticut to catch LIT in concert. Sadly, minus the party bus. I AM my own worst enemy.