Sometimes ordinary things just..... spin out of control. For no apparent reason. We had an old 1952 Buick. We remember so many stories about that dependable old beast. One thing about it - it always ran. The stories spun out of control more than the car did. BUT THE CAR DID, ALSO.
Blaine bought a brand new '60 Ford pickup truck. Red and white. Beautiful. He brought it around the block from his and Janet's house to our house. We were so excited to see it. Reed and Elaine were there. We eventually became tired of walking 'round and 'round it and went inside and sat on the brown couch (oh, yes, I remember EVERYTHING from that day, even the color of the couch). Eventually we heard the distant vrooom of the old Buick. Mother was coming home from her job at the library. The noise got louder. It is really amazing what a thundering noise that car could make, especially when we were all listening for it. Blaine said, "I hope Nuh sees the truck." Well. Nuh, (Mother) did NOT see the truck. Vroooomcrash! His truck had not survived its first day in the family.
We all just looked at each other in astonishment. We all said, "oh, no." Blaine could not even get himself off the couch. The silence of the ages engulfed us. Mother did not seem to be in any hurry to come into the house, so we eventually made it outside. The truck was damaged but not ruined. In those days most people probably repaired wrecked cars, but nobody EVER fixed a truck. Trucks just took dents and bruises in stride. Blaine went on home with his prized Ford, shaking his head in disbelief.
Yes, I do believe that the stories spun out of control more than the car did, and the car itself was schitzophrenic enough. I don't think we ever gave that car a nickname. More later.