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Carol Perkins: Hate it when Guy is right
Her husband says she can't see at night. After a minor nocturnal mishap in her new dream Dodge Ram pickup, she couldn't give up driving it, so a tough decision was made.
The next earlier column: Carol Perkins: A Christmas Candle in the window of every home. Posted November 10, 2013
By Carol Perkins
Guy says I can't see very well at night; I tell him I can see fine. He may win this argument. I must confess he has a point and the point was driven home in the form of a ditch and a truck...the truck I have been trying to find for the last few months.
After searching the planet (our neck of the woods) for a Dodge Ram truck that was not new but not terribly old, we found one. It wouldn't have been my first choice simply because it was a quad cab with an eight "foot" bed.
Guy loved it so he could haul more stuff. I only saw it as a backing up problem and a turning-the-corner problem, but it was the first deal we had found where the seller was going to give us a fair value for our trade-in, so we made a deal.
Part of the deal was that the seller would touch up the paint job on the back where someone had backed into something, leaving a little paint missing, and he was to pop out a few minor dents. While we were to be gone on a business trip, we were to leave the vehicle at his location. We made the deal and Guy drove the truck home.
Because he had left his vehicle at my store, we went back there to get it. That was the point when I got under the wheel of the truck---the truck we had owned for less than two hours.
At my screenprinting shop there are three entrances into the store and the rest are drop offs (ditches). In the daylight there is no confusing the three, but in the dark I must have been confused. Guy stood by and watched what developed and could do nothing about it.
Once under the wheel, I realized that the "hump" above the engine was in my view, but rather than raise my seat, I calculated where the drive was and the location of the ditch-so I thought. Keep in mind this parking lot is very dark and there are no markers for the drive or the ditch. I say this in defense of what follows.
I backed up to get a clear shot of the blacktop drive instead of the ditch, and feeling confident I was on the right patch, I immediately drove straight ahead and directly into the ditch-no small ditch either. When my head bounced to the ceiling of the truck and my knee hit the stirring wheel, I knew I had messed up. Something told me to "gun" the engine and hop out of that ditch and that is what I did, throwing mud behind me and leaving Guy in a state of shock. By then I was on HWY 163, but thankfully, nothing was coming in either direction.
I swung the truck back into the parking lot with these predictable questions: "Didn't you see that ditch? You headed straight for it!" How does one respond? "Oh, yes, I saw the ditch and wanted to drive through it, knocking off my front baffle (I heard that was what it was), leaving the remains on HWY 163. Yes, I wanted to mash the door into the running boards, keeping me from opening it and having to watch you jump up and down on the pipes to get the door open. Yes, I indented to knock out a running light."
What could I say other than I couldn't see the difference between the road and the ditch. To say that would be admitting I couldn't see at night.
When we took the truck back for the minor repairs they were going to fix, the salesperson met us with "What on earth happened?" Then he called the other salespeople to hear the story. They had more to fix, by then, than a few dents.
Giving up on driving this truck is not an option for me because I will not be deterred. I will, however, drive it in the daylight. I hate when Guy is right. - Carol Perkins
This story was posted on 2013-11-18 10:29:11
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More articles from topic Carol Perkins:
Carol Perkins: A Christmas Candle in the window of every home
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Carol Perkins needs to run for high office, straighten things out
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Carol Perkins/Susan Chambers on air live at Pumpkin Festival
Carol Perkins: The search for the next truck
Carol Perkins: A Matter of Taste
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