I should preface this story by describing what my situation was at the time. It all started when I was moving back home from college, not having the money for the next term.
I hadn't got off my ass and earned the money for tuition nor did I make much of the last semester. I was living in the dorms for the first time after a two years in various apartments. Because I was moving home I had everything I owned in my car. My car was one of the more ridiculous rides I have ever seen. I was a 77' Celica that I bought from my brother though I'm not sure I ever paid him. It had all sorts of after market body work. It had flared rear and forward fenders. It had a spoiler, a front skirt, and over-sized Perelli tires. It had a removable sunroof. It was sort of fun to drive because of the 5-speed manual. but the air didn't work. The brakes and clutch leaked. It only had a radio.
So I was driving down 1-75 a few weeks before Christmas with the heat on because the car was overheating. All my shit was in the car. My rear driver side wheel had been making a grinding sound for several weeks but I figured it could wait until I got home. I had no money for it anyway. Just south of Venice (FL), the sound got really loud and the car started to shudder violently. A few seconds later the car shifted several inches down and to the left. Looking out the window I saw my wheel, axle attached, bouncing and rolling past me and into the wooded median. I was sliding along the shoulder in the grass. My brakes went with my wheel so all I could do was wait until I stopped. Eventually I did, in the grass just off the road. I gathered myself together and got out to take a look. What I saw was my bare rear assembly (inches from my gas tank), white hot, resting on dry grass. Before my eyes a tiny flame emerged and slowly began to spread. I threw dirt on it, I dumped Gatorade on it, I spit at it. The fire was finally extinguished by the coffee of a passerby. The guy let me use his cell phone to call someone.
I couldn't reach anyone so I left messages. After throwing the street signs I had in the car as far into the palmettos as possible, I sat on the trunk and waited. A highway trooper eventually stopped. She said "Car trouble?" I said "Kinda." She left. About an hour later a friend picked me up. I had dropped out of college and was moving in with my parents. I was 21. It was not the happiest time in my life. My only positive thought was that my dad would be forced to help me buy a car so I could get a job. At least there was that.
"I think you should fix it." my dad said. "Huh?" I thought. Fix it!? WTF do I know about that kind of car repair? Seriously. But that was that and I would have to do it. I borrowed a tool from my mechanic Uncle Ed and money from my dad. I went to a junk yard and yanked some parts. I read a manual and fixed it. No shit. During the several months it took to do it, I had do drive my mom to work (at 6:30) so I would have her car to get a job. I found the job that would eventually lead to my bleeding in the meat.
The Black Forest Buffet was a dump. I killed more than one roach in full view of customers. Other than myself and the manager, it was staffed my a crew of absolute idiots. Most of them kids. There was the skinny redneck dishwasher who like to wash pots on several hits of acid. There were also two young black kids who did random jobs, sometimes. They actually brought there guns to work once to compare. They were walking stereotypes. The restaurant catered mostly to old people who ate dinner at 5:00 pm. It consisted of a full bar, a salad bar, and a meat and side bar. The latter bar was to be my domain. I was "The Meat Carver". My job was to slice off hunks of meat for the old people as they pushed their trays along the line. Some of those old-timers got pretty sassy after a couple of Manhattans. I did my best to grant their requests for a pork roast "end cut" or an extra fatty piece of lamb. By the way, lamb is fucking gross.
It was Easter Sunday at about 1:00 pm, prime eating hour for old people. We were packed. The blue hair stretched all the way down the line. Then I learned a very important lesson for a meat carver. Never try to catch a falling knife. I did try and cut the shit out of my finger. No stitches needed though I was bleeding freely. But it was Easter and people need sustenance to pray. The show must go on. So I went on carving meat and I went on bleeding. I bled in the meat.
I hadn't got off my ass and earned the money for tuition nor did I make much of the last semester. I was living in the dorms for the first time after a two years in various apartments. Because I was moving home I had everything I owned in my car. My car was one of the more ridiculous rides I have ever seen. I was a 77' Celica that I bought from my brother though I'm not sure I ever paid him. It had all sorts of after market body work. It had flared rear and forward fenders. It had a spoiler, a front skirt, and over-sized Perelli tires. It had a removable sunroof. It was sort of fun to drive because of the 5-speed manual. but the air didn't work. The brakes and clutch leaked. It only had a radio.
So I was driving down 1-75 a few weeks before Christmas with the heat on because the car was overheating. All my shit was in the car. My rear driver side wheel had been making a grinding sound for several weeks but I figured it could wait until I got home. I had no money for it anyway. Just south of Venice (FL), the sound got really loud and the car started to shudder violently. A few seconds later the car shifted several inches down and to the left. Looking out the window I saw my wheel, axle attached, bouncing and rolling past me and into the wooded median. I was sliding along the shoulder in the grass. My brakes went with my wheel so all I could do was wait until I stopped. Eventually I did, in the grass just off the road. I gathered myself together and got out to take a look. What I saw was my bare rear assembly (inches from my gas tank), white hot, resting on dry grass. Before my eyes a tiny flame emerged and slowly began to spread. I threw dirt on it, I dumped Gatorade on it, I spit at it. The fire was finally extinguished by the coffee of a passerby. The guy let me use his cell phone to call someone.
I couldn't reach anyone so I left messages. After throwing the street signs I had in the car as far into the palmettos as possible, I sat on the trunk and waited. A highway trooper eventually stopped. She said "Car trouble?" I said "Kinda." She left. About an hour later a friend picked me up. I had dropped out of college and was moving in with my parents. I was 21. It was not the happiest time in my life. My only positive thought was that my dad would be forced to help me buy a car so I could get a job. At least there was that.
"I think you should fix it." my dad said. "Huh?" I thought. Fix it!? WTF do I know about that kind of car repair? Seriously. But that was that and I would have to do it. I borrowed a tool from my mechanic Uncle Ed and money from my dad. I went to a junk yard and yanked some parts. I read a manual and fixed it. No shit. During the several months it took to do it, I had do drive my mom to work (at 6:30) so I would have her car to get a job. I found the job that would eventually lead to my bleeding in the meat.
The Black Forest Buffet was a dump. I killed more than one roach in full view of customers. Other than myself and the manager, it was staffed my a crew of absolute idiots. Most of them kids. There was the skinny redneck dishwasher who like to wash pots on several hits of acid. There were also two young black kids who did random jobs, sometimes. They actually brought there guns to work once to compare. They were walking stereotypes. The restaurant catered mostly to old people who ate dinner at 5:00 pm. It consisted of a full bar, a salad bar, and a meat and side bar. The latter bar was to be my domain. I was "The Meat Carver". My job was to slice off hunks of meat for the old people as they pushed their trays along the line. Some of those old-timers got pretty sassy after a couple of Manhattans. I did my best to grant their requests for a pork roast "end cut" or an extra fatty piece of lamb. By the way, lamb is fucking gross.
It was Easter Sunday at about 1:00 pm, prime eating hour for old people. We were packed. The blue hair stretched all the way down the line. Then I learned a very important lesson for a meat carver. Never try to catch a falling knife. I did try and cut the shit out of my finger. No stitches needed though I was bleeding freely. But it was Easter and people need sustenance to pray. The show must go on. So I went on carving meat and I went on bleeding. I bled in the meat.
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