Life’s stories happen one at a time. They happen when you don't expect it, and that’s what makes them even funnier. . .
One story worth noting:
My family had spent a night on the town. The particulars of the events probably included food, but that detail has faded from memory. I was riding with my wife and my mom, the three of us in my silver mazda protégé.
My Dad and brother were following behind in my parents Honda Accord.
I arrived home with my Mom and Erica and noticed that my Dad and brother didn't show up. Time passed and we wondering what happened. The thoughts that crossed our minds were not devious. The simplest explanation was that they lost their way and were somewhere randomly cruising the mean streets of northern Indianapolis/ Carmel. The other thought was something had caught their eye: Perhaps it was a vanilla ice cream cone at Mickey d's; or a chocolate down under at outback. I couldn't think of my dad randomly stopping for anything besides dessert.
Sure enough they arrived, without dessert but with a funny story. . .
My Dad and Matt were deep in conversation somewhere west of Fishers and north of Indianapolis. Between the two of them several subjects are taboo so no doubt it was a conversation regarding George bush. My Dad and brothers opinion of George bush, and greatness of Michael Moore, are their common ground. If it wasn't the politics of George then I would expect the conversation to flow around dinner, or some problem Matt had and dads plan to fix it. The conversation would go into a lot of depth, and some pretty good ideas before it would be totally dismissed by Matt sometime later that weekend.
Somewhere between 82nd street and 116th street the silver car they were following took a unexpected turn. Unexpected to anyone going to Fishers (where I live), but the turn was not noticed by either the driver or passenger.
The car made a couple direction changes, and inched into a Carmel Neighborhood. At this time, no doubt, my Dad and brother broke from their conversation about George, food, or whatever Matt broke and asked aloud "Hey where is Chris going" the obvious reply, to whoever asked was "dunno, maybe he has to drop something off/see somebody" . . the oddity of being in a weird neighborhood they have never visited was quickly dismissed as they continued into their conversation..
Suddenly the car pulled in front of a nice carmel house, and then into the houses driveway. The great followers that they were, Matt and Dad were close behind the silver car. The question itching at both of their lips "what are you doing Chris". The silver car door flew open. . and someone started to get out.
it was then Matt, who’s keen eye of observation is slightly higher then my dads "huh, they built a wal mart across the street from our house" notice a subtle difference in cars. In the place of a crappy 1998 silver mazda protégé was a new model BMW. The BMW, though styling differences were large, was sporting a nice metallic silver paint.
"Thats not Chris's Car" Matt said. . .
"thats not chris" as the man stepped out of the car and looked at the two guys in a beat up Honda Accord (a badge of Honor in Owen County: what was the biggest buck you have taken out with your little Accord).
I do not think there was enough time for this man to contemplate the two characters in the beaten up Honda. My Dad and Matt flew out of that driveway before the guy could finish "What the Hel. . ."
My Dad, and Matt, no doubt laughed the way to my home. . .
and when they arrived at my place in fishers we joined them in the laughter. . .