I remember back in high school meeting with my friends at the local Sonic drive-in. We’d hang out and munch on some chili cheese tator tots while sipping down a cool forty-four ounces of cherry lime-aid. Sonic was open pretty late, so it was a good place to hang out until curfew. There was one night that I’ll never forget; the day that my arch nemesis looked like a fool in front of everybody.
It was Friday night at about 8pm. Me and some classmates had a science project due the following Monday and we wanted to crank it out before ahead of time. We were assigned teams to work in, so the pairing was pretty random. Out of the six team members, I had two friends, two people I didn’t really know that well and the stereo-typical high school football jock (read: total meat head). I had picked up my two friends in my Isuzu Rodeo and the Jock had picked up the other two team members. When he showed up, it was obvious he didn’t want to be there. Looking back, who could blame him; he was more popular than us and we were doing school work on a Friday night, but the fact remained that the project needed to be done before Monday.
When he arrived, he immediately made fun of my ride. He commented how stupid my bumper guards looked and that the running boards looked like they were made of cardboard. I was used to his idiocracy, so I ignored his provocations. After about 30 minutes of working on the science project, it was apparent that the Jock was getting antsy and wasn’t going to help. So I suggested that we meet again on Saturday morning to get more work done. The Jock immediately said we could get the work done on Sunday and that there was no way he could meet on Saturday. We still had a lot of work to do and I knew what he wasn’t going to be doing anything on Saturday other than nursing a hang over, so I asked him what his plans were.
He immediately lost his temper, telling me not to question him. Wanting to not get pulverized by this guy, but not wanting to let him off the hook either, I said “Well we need your input on the project too, so when are you available to meet up?” The jock took this as an opportunity to escape the Friday night meeting and replied “I can meet on Sunday, you figure out a time and I’ll call you on Sunday.” Without another word being said he got in his truck, threw it into reverse and hit the accelerator. You know how teens can get a little amped up sometimes and get ahead of themselves? Well he really hit the pedal hard, squealed the tires and backed up into my Rodeo. He got out of his truck with an astonished look on his face.
My Rodeo didn’t have so much as a scratch on it, thanks to my beefy bumper guard, but his Ford’s bumper was bent in and pushed out of place. He had to call his parents about hitting my SUV and they grounded him for two weeks and ordered him to come home right then. With a big smile on my face, I said “So have you plans for Saturday changed, or should we still meet up on Sunday?”