Thor Go Smash!I awoke, leaping out of the front seat, howling like a deadite. It was no nightmare that troubled my beauty sleep, it was a six foot branch that speared through the hood of my van. A few inches up and I would have been skewered.
Two days after insisting I didn't look like Jesus, I'm almost 'crucified'. (I also denied any resemblance to Fabio, who was hit in the face by a goose going 90mph. Just nobody tell me I look like JFK and I should be fine.) It was the first rain of the season. A twenty foot limb from a tree some fifteen feet away loosened and fell, gouging a 5" hole in the hood and snapping off, leaving behind a six foot spike-tipped branch. Do the math. It was a spear that would have made Goldberg proud. They call 'em "widow makers". I'm not even married yet. Dad, a former weight lifter, couldn't pull the sword from the stone. We were sure that the engine was scrap metal. And we had no idea if our insurance covered Wrath of God. Within minutes the camp hostess was there, shaking her head and waving a cup of coffee under my nose. Her husband grumbled, "You guys don't have a saw? I'll go get one and call the ranger." Yeah, thanks. After they left I posed for a couple pictures, my facial features betraying thoughts of: "A freaking. Tree. Almost. Killed me."
The Hostess Pies returned to tell us the ranger couldn't make it until 11am. We decided to saw off the branch and get a look under the hood, expecting a sight worse than Twisted Metal 4. The javelin hit our 4x4 Super-Heavy-Duty battery, cracking it, but there was no other signs of damage. I volunteered to start the car -- I was feeling lucky, punk. It started fine, with no signs of sparks or detonation. (And it turns out our insurance did cover the hood and battery!) If only that were the end of my tale. Mom asked me to back into another, less foliated campsite. As I craned my neck, trying to peer through foggy windows, a quart of milk fell and spilled in my lap. At this point, I was two more horrible things away from rage.
I hopped out to gather up my soaking cards, and I heard, "THOR! The van's rolling back!" Yes, I forgot to pull the emergency break or put the sucker into park. I was way too sleepy to operate a vehicle, but that didn't stop me from leaping in lighting-fast and slamming on the breaks. Let the rage begin. I think I scared a half dozen geriatric campers during my stormy walk down the narrow, rainblack roads. I glared at each and every one of them. If only they knew. I was this close to being Thorkabob. - J.R. Antrim still hates camping. But don't worry, his Spiritmonger is fine. And no, it's not for trade.
More stuff by J.R. Antrim. |
Narrowly avoiding death always pisses me off.
Wee! Funny captions go hand-in-hand with natural disaster!
I kept the tip as a souvenir. We're still not on speaking terms.