Fast and Furious: Montana

   Happy Holidays!

   For the past week or so, I have done a lot of nothing. Luckily, that’s exactly what I wanted to do so I feel pretty accomplished.

   As I’ve been chillaxing, I’ve also been doing a lot of reminiscing since I’m back in my home town, surrounded by all my homies. (On a side note, I find it amusing that Word recognizes “chillaxing” as a word, but not “homies”).

   One particular memory that popped into my vegetable-state brain was the time I decided to re-enact Tokyo Drift in my maroon 1994 Mitsubishi Expo. AKA: Shooter. 

Shooter

   It was the summer before my sophomore year in high school and I was a regular veteran when it came to navigating our Montana back roads. I’d been sporting my license in my Claire’s wallet for over a year and I was just gaining some new privileges, one of which was being able to tote around more than one passenger during the daytime. My friend and I decided we’d take a big step and ask my parents if I could chauffer the two of us to Lake Como, the local “beach”, which was about a 45 minute drive. They said yes under one condition: I had to bring my younger sister and her friend as well.

   I didn’t care because I happen to like my sibling so my friend and I quickly donned our Old Navy bikinis and packed a snack bag. I felt so adult-like.

   For the past few months, ever since I watched The Fast and the Furious: Tokyo Drift, I’d taken a liking to “drifting” my eggplant-esque soccer mom car around the 45 degree turns on one of the dirt roads en route to my little home in the boonies. I was getting pretty good at it, if I say so myself, and felt bad ass while doing it.

   I had the great idea to take my carload down that particular road on the way to the lake to show off my superlative driving skills as a sixteen year old white girl. In an attempt to show them I wasn’t even the least bit worried that my trick would fail, I even sped things up a little during the approach. We were going about twenty-five when I switched from gas pedal to brake pedal, whipping the steering wheel to the left and shouting “hold on to yer shorts!” as the back end of the car skidded sideways at a miraculous pace. It was at about mid-swing, I’d say, when I realized there was much more motion and speed occurring than during my usual drift attempts. During that realization was when the rear end of my mom wagon went too far right and slid right off the road into a ditch and barbed wire fence. Dust was surrounding us like gritty, brown smoke and Maroon 5 was shouting at us from my ghetto-rigged iPod-to-stereo device.

   No one said a word. Not my friend who, upon glancing over, I saw death-gripping the sides of her seat and not blinking. Not my sister in the back who looked like she just saw something dead. Not her friend who’s left eye was twitching as she stared ahead. Nothing.

   As the dust settled, I recommended we all evacuate the vehicle. I opened the driver’s side door and noticed I’d have to step down about an extra foot in order to reach the road. I also noticed that once any sort of movement from the passengers occurred, my car responded by wobbling back and forth as if on a teeter-totter. I let the two younger girls get out first, my friend and I leaning to the side to balance things as they climbed out of the door behind me. I exited next followed by my friend who looked as though she didn’t want to be my friend for much longer. Upon examining the situation, we realized two things. 1) my car was definitely not going to be moved simply by pushing the gas pedal considering only two tires were on solid ground and 2) I was going to be grounded.

   Our first idea was to somehow maneuver my car back onto the front two tires by pushing against and on the rear bumper. That didn’t work so instead we had one person stand inside the driver side door and another person push on the back to try to balance as well as push. Surprisingly, that also didn’t go as well as we had hoped.

Actual Photo

   After a good fifteen minutes or so of trying every trick we could think of, we decided to make the dreaded phone call to my parents. I had my sister call because I was already afraid of the reaction. During the callI’m pretty sure I could hear my dad yelling through the phone as I stood at least five feet away.

   They showed up not too long after the call for assistance was made. I’m pretty sure my dad didn’t even say a word to me as he tied on some towing straps in order to pull me out with his truck. At around this same time, a cowboy came along in a much larger and stronger looking pickup and offered a helping hand. I was mortified.

   I kept myself busy and out of the way by standing on the other side of the dirt road, smooshing red ants with my bejeweled flip flops. My friend and I attempted to be lighthearted but we both knew there was a storm coming in my direction.

   About a half hour later, my eggplant was safely on all-fours and my dad’s attention turned to me. My heart sunk and sweat was emitting from odd places on my body as my dad made his way over to my side of the road. Instead of a raging lecture, I received an “I’m disappointed” speech and a not-so-happy facial expression. After reasoning with my mom, the parenting decision was that I was still allowed to go to town with my friend and other passengers but to enjoy it because it would be a while until I’d get to drive again. My license, my driving privileges, and my freedom would be suspended for the next couple weeks.

   I tried to enjoy my remaining freedom as much as I could that evening but had trouble ignoring my oncoming penalty. Despite donning my new denim mini skirt and statement tank-top, I just wasn’t having a great time.

   Surprisingly, my friend still remained my friend after the incident. My sister remained my sister and her friend remained her friend. If anything, it brought us together because we could laugh about it after my grounding term was completed.

   The basis of this tale is that I blame Hollywood for creating such an influential movie concerning driving tricks. If I had never seen that movie, I never would have attempted to drift my eggplant on Montana back roads. Ok not really, but it makes me feel a little more innocent.