I Smell Smoke
I think it was 2001, no maybe it was ... yes, it was 2001. We were living in Leesburg Virginia but visiting Thursten and Lovey (my in-laws aka the Howells) in Princeton New Jersey, Lawrenceville really, but that's for another blog.
I have no idea what the occasion was, in those days we were scheduling our vacation around visiting parents and trying not to feel so guilty about ripping grandchildren from their grandparents in our attempt to chase twelve more after tax dollars a year.
So The Donald's cousin and her family were in town from Arizona and were staying at the Marriot in Princeton (the actual Princeton). Realizing she was not from the area we decided she should have an escort. It was decided that I would drive the 1970something convertible Fiat with Thursten, my father-in-law riding shotgun. It wasn't far and I was the least drunk (kids, do not attempt this at home).
Thursten and I jammed ourselves in the car and the I proceeded to try to get us out of the driveway. Our first stop was in the giant rhododendron. I had us fetched right up in the plant while everyone was screaming directions at me. The stick shift requires you to push down, not back, but down and then into reverse. Down to me meant back and the screaming was scrambling my brain.
I finally got us freed from the driveway and we were on our way. We headed down Rte 1 and what a fun little car to drive! In minutes we were through 4 lights and at the Marriott. The cousins made their way into the Hotel and Thursten said, "LET'S GO SMOKE CIGARS!!" This explains why he wasn't driving. I told him no and we had to get back, twice, maybe three times. We started back and at the first light smoke seemed to be coming from under the hood. I believe I said, "Is that smoke coming from under the hood?" And Thursten replied, "It's fine, just keep driving." We continued on and I was hyper-aware of the fact that the smoke coming from under the hood was not only real, but increasing exponentially. I offered up, "Should we pull over??!!" and Thursten assured me, "No, it's fine, just drive back to the house."
By the time we entered the driveway and WHY did I insist on pulling into the garage???, the car was smoking like my Aunt Carol. I believe Thursten and I both said, "Oh Shit." And then the door to the house opened and Lovey and The Donald were there both yelling. I heard a lot of "Michele! What did you do??" I didn't do anything!! "What happened?" Nothing happened, I drove the friggin car and a belt or hose was bad and melted and created a lot of smoke. What up?? This may explain why I lob controversial things out at family gatherings. The young lass that was repeated spoken to with, "Michele!...." had enough. More to come.... "Michele!......" is getting more and more fed up.... dig that!
I have no idea what the occasion was, in those days we were scheduling our vacation around visiting parents and trying not to feel so guilty about ripping grandchildren from their grandparents in our attempt to chase twelve more after tax dollars a year.
So The Donald's cousin and her family were in town from Arizona and were staying at the Marriot in Princeton (the actual Princeton). Realizing she was not from the area we decided she should have an escort. It was decided that I would drive the 1970something convertible Fiat with Thursten, my father-in-law riding shotgun. It wasn't far and I was the least drunk (kids, do not attempt this at home).
Thursten and I jammed ourselves in the car and the I proceeded to try to get us out of the driveway. Our first stop was in the giant rhododendron. I had us fetched right up in the plant while everyone was screaming directions at me. The stick shift requires you to push down, not back, but down and then into reverse. Down to me meant back and the screaming was scrambling my brain.
I finally got us freed from the driveway and we were on our way. We headed down Rte 1 and what a fun little car to drive! In minutes we were through 4 lights and at the Marriott. The cousins made their way into the Hotel and Thursten said, "LET'S GO SMOKE CIGARS!!" This explains why he wasn't driving. I told him no and we had to get back, twice, maybe three times. We started back and at the first light smoke seemed to be coming from under the hood. I believe I said, "Is that smoke coming from under the hood?" And Thursten replied, "It's fine, just keep driving." We continued on and I was hyper-aware of the fact that the smoke coming from under the hood was not only real, but increasing exponentially. I offered up, "Should we pull over??!!" and Thursten assured me, "No, it's fine, just drive back to the house."
By the time we entered the driveway and WHY did I insist on pulling into the garage???, the car was smoking like my Aunt Carol. I believe Thursten and I both said, "Oh Shit." And then the door to the house opened and Lovey and The Donald were there both yelling. I heard a lot of "Michele! What did you do??" I didn't do anything!! "What happened?" Nothing happened, I drove the friggin car and a belt or hose was bad and melted and created a lot of smoke. What up?? This may explain why I lob controversial things out at family gatherings. The young lass that was repeated spoken to with, "Michele!...." had enough. More to come.... "Michele!......" is getting more and more fed up.... dig that!
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