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Bungee Cord
When I was in school- I will admit- I was a bit of a scatterbrain. I went into a major I really didn’t have much clue how to deal with. There was endless amounts of paperwork and disks and systems and different class times for different labs- let’s just say it was a hard transition for a girl who came from a small place and felt safe with the same old same old.
It was winter; ice had fallen hard over the night. I drove my blazer to class. My fingers gripped the steering wheel until the circulation was cut off. I was running late. I knew I would be. When I pulled into the parking lot, I parked in the first spot available and grabbed my stuff. I jumped out of the blazer almost before it was even in park and ran inside.
I swear, my heart had never beat so hard as it did while I was taking that test. My fingers were frozen even though the heat was on full blast in class. It was hard to wrap my head around that final.
But I pushed through it.
After the test was over, all I could think about was getting back home. The day hadn’t improved much while I sat in the classroom lab for two hours. I pushed open the door and a blast of cold air hit me like a ton of bricks. I thought about retreating back inside; but I also thought about how great my pajamas were going to feel once I got back home.
So I slipped and I slide out to the blazer. I reached into my bag to get my keys.
And they weren’t there.
I dropped my bag to the ground and I tore through it. I turned and looked behind me. I ran back inside and scoured the classroom. Nothing.
I walked back outside, dejected. I slumped back to my blazer just to double check the doors were locked.
They were. I saw something silver out of the corner of my eye. I braced my hands on either side of my eyes and there they were, hanging in my ignition. My *#&#@* keys.
I sighed. It was the third time that month.
I ran back into the commons and saddled up to the payphone. I popped the money in and waited. With each ring my heart sunk a little further into that cold pit of despair. Finally he answered.
The conversation was short. He wasn’t happy. He was over an hour away- south- and would make his way up there when he could.
I hung up on the verge of tears. I was a loser. I was lower than a loser. I shuffled back to the computer lab and played a game until I heard the door opened to the commons. I ran out of the computer lab and he stood at the door with my keys in hand. A black bungee cord had been added to the key ring as my new fashion accessory.
“I expect this to stay on your key ring. I’m not driving up here again. Ever.”
I nodded my head and mumbled my thanks. I was a thoroughly chastised kid. I felt terrible that on the worst of weather days, I made him drop what he was doing at work to come to my rescue. There was no white knight in those days to rescue me. There was only my dad – the ninja.
“Don’t lock the doors unless this damn thing is wrapped around your wrist.” He dropped the keys into my hand and walked out the door. I shuffled back out to my blazer, thinking about my new black key ring. I hated it. It was hideous. I instantly thought of ways to get rid of it at the first possible moment.
Yet I never took it off.
I often think about that day. It was as if the black bungee cord was a constant reminder of how scatterbrained I once was and how I needed to walk away from that life and get more focused. When I get frustrated and can’t focus my mind enough to get one thing done, let alone the millions of things on my to-do and multi-task list; I will pull out the black bungee cord.
Last Friday, after years and years with the black bungee cord, it broke. I haven’t felt right ever since. I feel very disoriented. Very unorganized. I even shed a damn tear for it (I blame the beginning of the month on that) and my best friend found this very distressing. She knows the story of the black bungee. She’s often made fun of me because of this black bungee cord.
On Saturday, she came over to my house. She sounded really excited on the phone. She showed up at the door and said, “Close your eyes.”
I left one open. You can’t trust these people.
There in the palm of my hand was a new bungee cord. She was prouder than punch, smiling ear to ear. Matt had no idea what was going on. The black bungee was before his time. He didn’t understand the story or what it meant; but she did. I launched myself into her arms (and trust me, this is quite hilarious when you realize she’s about a foot shorter than me) and we jumped up and down and laughed and cried.
She put it on my key ring and handed it to me with the honorary dad speech, “Alright girls, that’s about enough.” And then she turned very serious.
“I know it’s not the black bungee, and I know it’s a smaller version; but you are my version of the black bungee and I love you. Now when you look at the new bungee there will always be a story behind it as well.”
The moral of the story- there is always a bright side no matter what happens.
Do you have a safety blanket? Stories to tell? Do the characters you write about have these quirks? Have you noticed any of these quirks in any movies or books you love?
Books by the Crew
45 comments:
Nice story Sin!
Scouring my memory for comparable stories that are suitable for young ladies I drifted back to student days. I was a bit groggy at the time, having spent the previous evening in the student union bar and having drunk my first 'yard of ale' (hero of a cricket match!).
It was in the college library and I was perusing the journals, when with my nose in the latest 'Phys Rev', I was moving to the next set of shelves and tried to walk straight through a glass screen. I must have looked like a startled rabbit but when my eyes focused, I saw the most beautiful face smiling sympathetically at me and behind her a row of male post-docs roaring with laughter. I became close friends with the girl who later became Mrs Q.
Moral: The Lord moves in mysterious ways? Watch where you put your feet? You never know what may lie behind a glass screen?
You tell me! :D
Both parts of your story (your dad and your friend) are good illustrations of what love is, Sin. Will you throw grenades at me if I call your blog sweet and inspiring?
Q, Mrs. Q was obviously a woman of insight, acumen, and good taste from an early age.
All the people I value are quirky. Wouldn't life be dull if we didn't have these unexpected little twists and turns that make us individuals?
What a great story. And it sounds like something my dad would have done. I was always calling to complain that my car wouldn't start. Three times it was because I'd turned it off in drive. *sigh* My name is Terri and I was a scatterbrained teenager.
I'm sure I have something like this. I get attached to things so I probably have a ton of security blankets. I just can't think of any with a story behind them right now. Hmmm...I'm going to have to meditate on this one for a while.
I'm with Janga. All the people in my life are quirky too. I think we're all quirky.
I can't think of anyt specific examples right now. Lemme caffeinate further and see what I can do.
Q - More proof of how smart Mrs. Q is. I believe that's a case of serendipity.
Janga - Quirks are what make life interesting. Some quirks more than others. LOL!
Q, I'm trying not to laugh. Mrs. Q is an absolute sweetheart. You are so lucky to have her. And her you.
PS. You get extra rum for saying "that are suitable for young ladies". Now I want to hear the UNsuitable ones. *g*
I also agree with Janga. Obviously Mrs. Q had good taste early on in life. Good for her.
Janga, I won't throw anything at you. At least not today. Sometimes we're all in need of a little reminder of the people in your life who might not always say the words, but with through their actions, love is the greatest gift they give to you.
I think that's why we all get along here so well. All of us pirates and our commenters are quirky. I love it.
Marn, I'm currently caffienating it up too. I'm so glad this popped up this morning. I wasn't sure what would happen.
Ter, LOL, isn't it funny when we look back at when we first took off driving at all the troubles we had? I had a blazer that was contrary anyway; but add my scatterbrainess to the mix and it was all comical. Well it's comical NOW. LOL
Q, that story so sounds like something out of a romantic comedy...that's so adorable!!
Awww, this story makes me very weepy--and it's not even that time, either. What a great daddy; and what a great friend...that's so awesome.
The only sweet thing I can think of...well, I remember "training" my father to give hugs and say, "I love you" when I left the house. Dad is not a demonstrative person; and pretty much anyone in the Colley/Sinclair family are uncomfortable hugging. It'd be humorous if it weren't so sad. But my parents were older; and around 20 or so, I'd decided I wasn't going to leave the house or do things without having "I love you" be the last thing I said to my folks. Of course, Dad hated that I went places--I had no business going anywhere, you know, so anytime I hugged and kissed him goodbye and followed it with an "I love you", he'd scowl. And I'd stand there and wait for him to say I love you back. And for the first several months of this practice I had to prompt him. "Dad, I said I love you." "Yeah, I heard you." "Fine, don't say it back, I'm going." Later, he became so used to it that if I didn't do it at the right time, he'd ask me if I'd forgotten to do something; and sometimes he'd say it before me, act victorious and say, "Ha! I beat you to it!" The man was hard to train, but eventually he figured it out and he's more huggy with the grandkids and stuff now; and he doesn't usually forget to tell me he loves me. And I remember one Valentine's Day (which he thinks is a complete rip off, by the way) he brought me a small heart-shaped balloon that said I Love You on it. I still have it.
My driving troubles seem to revolve around tires. I remember JUST getting my license and parking the car in our garage and Dad had an ax nearby and I managed to run over it--you've never heard air exit a tire so fast--then I had to back the car out again and ran over the ax a second time. Dad kept his ax in a completely different location after that. And that was just the first flat tire. I probably went through 6 flat tires in the first six months...it was absolutely ridiculous.
Wonderful story Sin:)
I really don't have any security blankets. When my dad was alive he was my security blanket. It was amazing as he aged our roles reversed and I became his security blanket as his health failed.
I remember a knight in shining armor that came to my rescue in college. I attended nursing school in Cincinnati and my home town is 3 hours southeast. It was my last week of nursing school and I was in a hurry to get back becuase the senior nursing students were going to barbeque on the front lawn of the dorm and tiolet paper the trees in front of the hospital which was a cross the street. I was 20 miles from the dorm when my Dodge Omni decided to blow a radiator hose. I coasted off the interstate in a cloud of smoke on an exit ramp into a very bad part of town. I was blocking one lane of traffic and things were getting pretty tense with horns blaring and nasty looks coming my way. I was afraid to get out of the car, because I knew as soon as I left it, I wouldn't see it again. This was back in the day before cell phones so I had to try to find a pay phone. I stepped out of the car and noticed a car had pulled up behind me with his flashers on. A very nice looking man in a business suit stepped out of a Mercedes and approached me. The first thing he said was "I'm not here to harm you, I just want to make sure you get some help safely." I could have kissed his Gucci loafers. He drove me to a nearby garage and they towed my car. I thanked him profusely, and he walked back to his car, but before he left he turned to me and said "Do you have any money?" It was graduation week and I had 25.00. until my parents arrived on friday. I was freaking inside about how I was going to pay for them to tow and fix my car. He pulls out his wallet and hands me fifty dollars and his business card. He said "Don't feel like you need to return this money, call it a graduation gift." My parents did mail him the money and a big thank you note. And that was how I was rescued by a knight in a Mercedes.
Hmmm.... Daddy's girl stories, huh? I used to drive this Renault Medallion (yeah, that's a real kind of car) and it was a giant piece of garbage. It just wouldn't start if it was raining out. Like it needed to tuck up in some jammies like I do when it's cold out.
I was at college, 2.5 hours from home, and it was the last day of finals. I was supposed to go home that night for the holidays. And I was running to my last final when I realized the damn thing was parked on a ticketing street (my college's town had these ridiculous street sweeping schedules. I think they were just trying to suck parking fines out of the college kids).
So, I rush to move it but lo and behold, it wouldn't start because there was a giant rain cloud over the town. I rush off to my final, hurry back and talk this meter maid out of giving me a ticket. ("I swear it wouldn't start!" as I insert the key and pray for once that it doesn't so I can avoid the $20 fine).
After a vicious kick to the car tire which left my foot more bruised than the car's feelings, I run inside my dorm and call my dad.
Me: Dad, that car is junk.
Dad: Why?
M: It never starts
D: It starts sometimes or you wouldn't be at school.
M: *eye roll* I'm not bringing it home. It'll probably die on me on the turnpike. I'll have it towed and catch a ride this weekend with a friend. (it was midweek, only two days to the weekend).
D: *pause* You won't be home until the weekend?
M: *another eye roll - hey, I was 19* I'm not walking, Dad.
D: *longer pause* I'll pick you up in the morning.
So my dad drove out to pick me up rather than wait for an extra two days to see me.
Sweet.
Lis, what a sweet good samaritan story! It's stuff like that that makes me think the world is still a cool place to live.
There are good people in this world. From that experience I have taken the time to be a good samaritan on several occasions. Always pay it forward.
Absolutely. :)
The only thing that would have made your story better was if the guy in the Mercedes had been hot and fallen madly in love with you.
Or maybe I watch too many chick flicks....
Hellion, I swear every time I think about the axe story I LMAO. Now that's a story my dad could appreciate. Of course after he lectured me up and down about how horrible my driving skills are.
Daddies are amazing repelant to training. I used to not like my dad. Maybe because we're too much alike- but I didn't understand him. He wasn't like other dads. He's amazingly reserved. Of course, I really didn't have many friends with dad's at home so I didn't have anything to go off of than the stereotypical dad on TV.
It would just give me a headache to train dad. I have Matt to train. That's enough of a handful in itself.
Unfortunately he was married...and it reminds me of a part of the story I forgot. My mom made me call his home and tell him the money was in the mail. His wife answered and it was very obvious he hadn't shared the story with her. He was at work at the time and the conversation was very uncomfortable. I told my mom he may be divorced now because I made that call.
H,
I trained my dad too. When I went off to college I was amazed at the amount of hugging and kissing my roommate's family shared with each other. My dad and entire family were very reserved. By the time I left home I changed that:)
What great stories. I had a good samaritan help me a few years ago with a flat. Hottest day of the year, like 104 and I had my full size pick up. Total flat tire at a light, but I got it into a daycare center parking lot out of the way. I started to get the stuff out to change it, and this guy who I guess carpooled got dropped off at his SUV next to me. In his dress pants and tie, he changed that tire for me. We were both sweating our butts off. I don't even think I got his name, but I was very thankful for his help. I like to think I would have managed on my own, but I'm glad I didn't have to find out.
*LOL* That poor Samaritan! *LOL* He does a great deed, and he possibly got divorced over it. (Yeah, the only thing that would have made that story better is if he'd been single and hot.) However, usually the guys who've rescued me all had wives--and I mean, they'd go beyond the help of rescue and when I'd thank them, they all said, "If my wife was in this situation, I'd want someone to help her."
Clearly all the good men are taken. *LOL*
Damn, that was longer that I thought it would be.
Not all good men are taken. I think some of them are afraid to get out there. There are a lot of bad apple women too.
My security blanket is still my stuffed animal, Fluffer Bunny. He's been with me through everything and never asked any questions the nights when I'd cry into him. When I think of those things I'd save in a fire he's #1 on my list.
What feel-good stories today! Lisa, that Mercedes guy was truly wonderful. I feel so bad this day in age because I get freaked out at the idea of someone (namely any single man) stopping to help...it's like you never know. I think this would apply to any situation where I'm out in the middle of nowhere and not a city situation but still. :(
All these stories are making me miss my dad! What a good reason to give him a call and tell him I love him. :)
Awh, Stephanie, Fluffer Bunny! At my parents house is my first baby doll, Cindy, the Gerber baby. She has plastic arms, legs and hair and a pink body. Her arms and legs are duct tapped on; but I wouldn't have any other doll. She was my favorite.
Anymore the first thing on my list thing wise to save in a fire is my external hard drive. LOL
Stephanie if you were my daughter I'd worry sick if you were stuck in the middle of nowhere and a guy stopped to help you! But most people are good at heart and if they stop, they usually don't mean you any harm. At least that's my rule of thumb. But I also come from a town of 181. LOL
Ah, crew. Nice way to start my day. Since I'm heading out on an excursion out of safe-old Santa Cruz into the city of sin, San Jose... Nice to go with the stories of good Sams out there.
Don't really have a good story to tell, which is making me sad...
I'm familiar with the long suffering Dad sighs, but nothing specific is coming to mind. Maybe once the oil is changed and I've done some Starbucks time...
Hey Chance!! Have fun on your pillaging raid into San Jose. We hope you come back with lots of great booty. *g*
Don't be sad. We cannot change the past only the future. Maybe you'll think of something. *hug*
Sin - That's a great story. I love that part about him not wanting to help the girl you were. I think we can all relate to that. Thank heaven we grow up at some point.
Sin, great story. Very touching! Like Terri said, I think we can all relate.
Thanks folks, for the complements for Mrs Q!
Not much of my life looks like a romantic comedy though. *quirky wink at Hellion*
And I will need quite a few scotches before relating THOSE stories Sin *grin*
There have been several major cases of serendipity in my life Terri. I sometimes think, despite my scientific instincts, that fate can conspire to bring about certain events.
I'm sure that men can often get their perceived pride mixed up with their emotions. Leading by example was exactly the right way to handle it Hellion. As for the tyres....well I won't say it!! *grin*
I loved your story Lisa. Reminds me of an incident some months ago when I pulled up at some traffic lights in my home town. I was amazed to see a woman get into the empty front passenger seat. She looked straight ahead and didn't speak a word. I assumed my car must have looked exactly like her husband's. Anyway, unsure of what to do I said "your place or mine love?" The woman shot back out of the car, still without looking at me and the lights turned green so that I had no chance to check if she was OK. Lisa, I think you are very trusting or an extremely good judge of character....actually both!
Marnee, I know exactly how you felt with that meter maid. Recently I stopped in an area reserved for unloading and carried a couple of boxes of books into a second hand bookseller. Unfortunately , or fortunately for me, he wasn't interested so I carted them back to the car to find a parking inspector making out a ticket. I staggered to the car, emphasising the weight involved and crashed them down on the boot extension. "this area is reserved for traders unloading bulky items" she said. "Yes, thats what I'm doing, there are heavy books in these boxes" I replied, switching on my most charming smile. As if to make a point, one of the romance novels fell into the road...won't tell you the title *g*. I picked it up and gave it to the lady attendant as a present. She blushed and agreed to cancel the ticket. Just proves the power of romance novels!
Great Blog Sin. :D
Marn- somehow I think I missed you this morning. :(
That sounds like my dad too. If they wanted me home he would've came to got me regardless of the car situation. Daddies are great. Especially if you're a daddy's girl. LOL
And I'm going to look that car up. I have to see it. LOL
Ter and Steph- thanks babes. I was a bitch in high school. I wouldn't have helped me if I'd been someone else. I'd let me rot on the side of the road.
Mr. Q
I feel like we should go off into the corner with a bottle of scotch. How you like it? On the rocks? Or dry?
*g*
Q!
LOL! When I read your story I heard the "Your place or mine, love." in a British accent:) What a marvelous story. And for the record, I said a little prayer right before Mercedes man appeared so I took it as God's saving grace:)
Sin
What a great good sam story! I'm with Terrio, I liked the part about not helping the girl you were. And what a generous thank you gift you and Matt sent in return. You made me feel like I just read a Chicken Soup story. Maybe you should think about submitting it. I think it's a winner.
I heard that line with the British accent too. LOL! Didn't realize it until Lisa typed that.
Speaking of osbcure first cars, my first car was a Plymouth Sapporo. I've never seen another one. LOL! I beat that car to death. But my Sr year, I drove 6 different vehicles to school. We always had weird cars around.
Mr. Q sorta reminds me of my favorite character in Kim Harrison's Hollows novels.
I always hear Mr. Q's British accent. Makes me swoon every time. ;)
Damn, L, I dunno about that. I've never read a Chicken Soup story but I dunno if it's that kind of caliber story. You're sweet. It's because I called you a whiner earlier, isn't it? LOL
You must read a Chicken Soup book, I really think you would enjoy one. But they require tissues.
And I wrote that before you called me a whiner.
Mr. Q is a character:)
Singing a different tune now aren't you? LOL
You're such a brat. But I love you anyway.
I know. It's because I'm all cuddly and whatnot.
Whatnot? Sounds to me like another drink!
Yes, back with some booty. A sweet pair of jeans that doesn't make me feel like a sausage and a shawl in several varigated shades of turquoise blue...makes me want to just stroke it. Will go loverly with the lime green dress I'm making for RT in Orlando... (Yes, I will be visible a mile away!)
I thought all day...stories. Nope. Lots of car
stories. I had a Dodge Dart station wagon in high school. Everyone laughed at me, but...! When we needed to truck a group to the beach, I delivered! And impressed them all by getting her up to 120mph once. (Just once, Dad, if you're peeking over my shoulder. And just for less than a minute...really!)
That car had history. Elder sibs drove it and did much worse to it, peeling off and spinning circles! (I was never so rough on her, Dad.) First brand new car my parents ever owned, so she was special...
Mrs. Q sounds like a real jewel. (Mr. Q doesn't soound so bad either!)
Thanks for this, I have been looking for something like this to do our blog.
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