Okay, so last blog kind of sucked, but this time I've got it together. I mean it. I'm writing about how I relate to chapter 12 (or at least some of it). The author writes about his Uncle Henry, who is kind of a weird old country guy, and that reminded me of my grandfather on my mom's side, who is also kind of a weird old country guy. In one bit, the author says that his "Uncle Henry got drunk and was driving his Oldsmobile down the highway a hundred miles an hour, with me, my sister Judy and my Uncle Walter inside", which is sort of like this one time that my grandpa decided for whatever reason that it was smart to take all of my cousins and my sister (separately, of course) out on his motorcycle and to ride around the countryside really fast on this really old, lumpy, patched road that hadn't been paved in like, 20 years. They all survived without a scratch of course, but it still sounded pretty traumatic. I wasn't but like 2, so I didn't get to ride around on the motorcycle. Another time something like this happened was about 3 or 4 years ago, and it was my mom, and my grandparent's ANCIENT Corvette something or other. It had no seat belts, no airbags, and no safety features to speak of. my mom got in, and had to really squeeze into the seat because it was so teeny tiny and old. And to make matters worse, my grandpa is a speed freak, and went super fast right down that old busted up road again and had no concept of speed limits. Yep. He went tearing down some old country road to show off his favorite car to my mom. old people are weird.
Okay, so I've had a similar thing happen to me. My grandparents (the israeli ones who are hoarders, not the racist ones) have this forty year motorcycle that is practically covered in duct tape. It's covered in duct tape because my grandfather got into a crash when I was two. About fifteen minutes before that he tried to convince my parents to give me a ride.
ReplyDeleteAbout two years ago, he actually managed to convince them, I almost fell off. My sister actually did. (It wasn't moving though, more's the pity)
Okay, so I've had a similar thing happen to me. My grandparents (the israeli ones who are hoarders, not the racist ones) have this forty year motorcycle that is practically covered in duct tape. It's covered in duct tape because my grandfather got into a crash when I was two. About fifteen minutes before that he tried to convince my parents to give me a ride.
ReplyDeleteAbout two years ago, he actually managed to convince them, I almost fell off. My sister actually did. (It wasn't moving though, more's the pity)
I LOVE this post. I am frighten of your grandfather's need for speed (even though I would do that too). This righting is so good. I thought it would be good and i wasn't.... it was phenomenal over my expectations giving normal personal connections and just enough of description that I feel my guts bouncing up and down on a rocky road on a motorcycle and a convertible that will fling you out of the chair like a catapult if you hit a speed bump with enough speed.
ReplyDelete*Writing.... *it
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