I’ve learned a valuable lesson in life. Never trust a horse. Or any car named after one.
When I was a wee boy of 7 my family went horseback riding in Oregon. We summered there for several years and there was a stable across the street that offered horse rides on the beach. They gave me a Pinto pony named Maverick. They figured he’d be harmless… he was, after all, a pony.
Well, he wasn’t harmless. Once on the beach, they showed everyone how to jiggle the reins to make the horse run. Being 7, I did as instructed. Suddenly, my innocent Pinto shot down the beach totally out of control, forging ahead of everyone, even the guides, who were now in hot pursuit of the little boy on the out of control horse.
Fast forward to 20 years. I now owned a Pinto. A Pinto Wagon from the folks at Ford. My brother had sold it to me but I don’t think he did me a favor. It was a nice car, except it had a nasty habit where the gas gauge would unexpectedly stick at a 1/4 tank.
I had forgotten this one day. I wasn’t paying attention to the gauge, being newly separated and having a lot of other things on my mind. I had just moved to Edmonds, right near the freeway exit to the ferry. At the bottom of the hill was Olson’s supermarket, where I had just finished shopping.
As I drove up the hill, the car suddenly sputtered to a stop. Damn, the gas gauge! I had forgotten to check it lately. Thankfully, there was a gas station right at the bottom of the hill, near the store. Being a guy, I thought no problem, I’ll just turn the car around. I’ve done it before. No biggy.
So I hopped out, cranked the steering wheel and held onto the interior door handle. I got the car into the middle lane and started to point it down the hill.
Then it happend. Of course, you know where this is going. The car suddenly took off, just like Maverick did 20 years before. And just like the horse, that car had a mind of its own. I grabbed onto the reins (well the door handle and the steering wheel) with all my might, trying to stop its progress.
It didn’t stop. It only sped up. At this point, I could have let go, risking being run over by my car or another car coming down the hill, unaware of my plight. That wasn’t a desirable option.
So I held on for dear life. And down we went, me being drug on my side as the Pinto headed off into the sunset. I could smell the rubber burning off my shoes from the friction. I thought I was going to die.
It’s at these moments that your mind does strange things. I didn’t see my life flash before me. Instead, I began to wonder if the car would just keep rolling down the hill, and either end up at the gas station (an ideal resolution) or in Puget Sound (not ideal).
Instead, the car came to an abrupt decision on its own. It hopped a curb and slammed into the Water District sign. I was still alive, relatively unhurt (except my pride) and the car wasn’t even scratched.
However, while I was preoccupied with being drug down a major thoroughfare by my car, all traffic had stopped dead in the road. Four lanes of traffic had halted to watch this dumbass and his out of gas, our of control Pinto.
Now I could have been embarrassed. But I wasn’t. Without even thinking about it, I did what anyone would probably do. I took a bow, then raised my hands into the air in victory, giving that “Oh yeah, I’m cool” wave so people would think I did this all the time.
They’re mouths were all agape. I knew they hadn’t fallen for it at all.
The epilogue. Now that the car was pointed downhill, gravity took over and the car restarted. I was able to drive to the gas station without a problem, even with my still shaking hands at the wheel.
Til next time,
Robb