One time back when I was driving my moms geo tracker I was finishing up some computer repair work at a local elementary school and had parked up against a couple of barriers that blocked off the space in between the main building and a smaller one. They had put up the concrete barriers to stop people from driving between the buildings and parking there. They were about 6-7 inches high. Well, I get in the car to leave and for some reason totally for about them…I get the car moving and all of the sudden WHAM! everything in the car goes flying up, I bite my tougue, and the car shudders like crazy. I roll down the window and see the barrier under the car. :smack:
I hit that thing at a good 15 mph and couldn’t believe I didn’t damage the car at all. Thank god that thing had enough ground clearance. I was able to drive over it and over another set so that I could leave without having to explain my amazing HUA moment to the principal.
Geo Trackers may be ugly and slow, but hoo boy can they take a beating. I’d like to see my “like a rock” chevy blazer do that and not end up with damage.
So there it is, the dumbest thing I’ve ever done with a car, post yours.
I basically did the same thing. It was a cold winter night and I was picking up a package at the Greyhound station. Pulled into the lot, into a parking spot and drove right up over the barrier. It took four guys and alot of sweet smiling to get off that thing.
You got an hour? Oh, you just want the dumbest one.
January 17 of this year. 8:10 AM. First big snow of the year. My first time driving alone with snow on the ground. My mother tells me to stay on the main roads, so I don’t take my windy shortcut and take a left onto a major cross-street. I come out of the turn at 30 mph.
The car’s fishtailing, I’ve lost control
Uh-oh, hit a merge sign.
WHAM!!! Telephone pole. Car’s totaled.
Thanks to airbags, I walk away with only a sprained thumb, cut lip, nasty whiplash and PTSD that I’m almost rid of (still can’t make that turn, though).
The car was a reward for good grades and staying out of trouble, so I mooch for a month and I get a '95 Cadillac Deville (My old car was a '96 Mercury Grand Marquis, yeah, you know it took a lot to total that baby). It sounds like a lot, but we got it at a seized property auction, we think it might’ve been a mob boss (the former owner lived in New Haven, so…). The insurance covered the cost of the Mercury ($10,000) and the telephone pole ($3,000, and I just cracked it, I didn’t even break it. Thank God I didn’t, or I might’ve had to go to the ER).
30 mph in the snow out of the turn, and I braked instead of just easing off the accelerator. Dumb enough for you? Oh, and it was 8:10 AM, so no, I wasn’t under the influence of anything.
Raise your hand if you’ve accidentally gone down a one-way street.
I’ve done this twice. Once, in Philly, I got lost and darted down such a street…with about 10 cars coming right at me. Thankfully, I was able to dart into a nearby alley and embarassedly back out.
The other time was in Ann Arbor. Unfortunately, the part of town where my church is has a lot of confusing, intersecting one-way streets on a hill. It’s actually easy to accidentally get on a one-way street over there…although that time, I did it in broad daylight with dozens of angry people staring at me. Unfortunately, I couldn’t do a u-turn there either; I had to wait for the cars to pass and then slink out of the road.
In my first car, an AMC Gremlin (stop laughing). The year is 1978.
I used to work security at a local hospital and my shift ended at midnight. A shortcut for me was to zip through a grocery store parking lot (it was closed at that hour). Driving parallel to the front of the store, I would turn hard left at the corner of the store, zip beside the store, pass the dumpster and over a small easement onto a street near my home. This shortcut saved me about five minutes of going ALL the way 'round the neighborhood.
Well, one day, they decided to erect these steel posts in the easement, effectively closing my shortcut.
It’s just past midnight.
I’m traveling at about 40mph in this deserted parking lot.
My headlights catch these steel posts, each about 40inches tall.
I’m only about fifteen feet from them.
I lock my elbows, hit the brakes and squint my eyes.
Seems the poles were JUST a little wider than my car and I sped right between two of them… with brakes locked!
Another coat of paint on that car and I’d have hit those poles for sure!
Well, there’s three. Daowajan can probably relate.
My parking lot on campus is filled with these huge concrete poles that divide the parking spots into groups of three. Oftentimes these parking spots are filled with vehicles the size of North Dakota. I squeeze myself into a spot, wriggling back and forth, left and right, all the while coming precariously close to brushing up against the side of the pole. But I’m in. Woo-hoo! I celebrate and rejoice all the way to class. After class, I get back in my car, and while looking out the rear window for pedestrians, reverse nonchalantly out of my spot. Something suddenly goes THWOCK!, and I get out of my car to find my right side mirror lying on the ground.
Same parking lot, same North Dakota-sized vehicle on my left side, same desparate struggle to fit myself into my spot, same nonchalant reversal, same THWOCK!, same right-side mirror on the pavement. Only difference: 1993 Pontiac Grand Prix instead of 1987 Ford Taurus.
Icy street, mid-January. I’m on a fairly narrow street, with cars parked on both sides. I’m going about 40 km/h, quite slow compared to summer speeds, and I encounter another car coming towards me. Now, there’s enough room for us to both fit through; being the cautious soul I am, however, I gently apply the brakes just so I can be absolutely sure that we can both make it. What I learned that night was that a car’s braking mechanism does not, surprisingly enough, reduce a car’s girth; all it does is make a car slip and swerve on black ice. So, I plow myself into the parked car on the side of the road. Get out, check out the damage. The good news is that the parked car is perfectly fine: even though I counted at least two separate moments of impact, there’s no scratches, no dents, nothing. Then I check out my car. And I’m relieved: no paint scratches, no bumps, no bruises…
…except that, yet again, I’ve managed to savagely decapitate the same bloody right-side mirror.
On a trip back from visiting my son I had to stop and take a leak. I was on a winding, two-lane road so I pulled of onto what looked like a level spot. I needed a level spot becaue my hand brake cable was broken and I hadn’t got around to fixing it.
Anyway, I got out leaving the engine running, walked around away from the road behind the truck. Just as I had finished and was walking in front of the pickup to get back in, it started to move slowly. I thought I could make the door and get in, but I wasn’t able to although I tried to the point that I was dragged about 6 or 8 feet. I finally gave up, gave the steering wheel a good yank to the right and let go. The truck ran up onto an embankment in a cut and turned over on its side in the middle of the road.
Ambulance, fire truck, wrecker, all came, did their thing and left with my truck now upright and running. I drove on home, about 100 miles, and checked into the Urgent Care Center at the local hospital. Just contusions and abrasions with no breaks or internal injuries.
A few weeks later, in my new truck, I went by the same place, stopped and took a leak just to prove that I could do it without wrecking my truck and ending up in the hospital.
Pottstown, PA, last year. It was night, traffic was light, and I realized what I’d done when I got to the first intersection and noticed the stop sign was facing the other way. Just a bit too late, though, as at that moment a female driver came along who rolled down her window and helpfully shouted, “Wrong way, ya freakin’ moron!”
Back in the 70’s, when I still lived in my hometown, I had a tendency to burn the candle at both ends. Once, having worked a double shift and following that up by staying out all night, I fell asleep at the wheel on Broad Street (in broad daylight and in my parents’ humongous '72 Grand Marquis wagon) and drifted into the side of a Chevy going the same direction.
The driver kindly let me slide as the part of his car I hit was already dented. While I put a few scrapes into the right front fender of the 'rents car, all this became moot two days later when someone ran a stop sign and clobbered it in the same spot. Karma or something, I guess.
LOL ** Treviathan ** I’m sorry that I’m laughing at your misfortune, your post put me on the floor once I read the last line.
I’ve only been driving about a year, the worst thing I’ve done is put my dad’s Corolla into park while coasting towards my friends house at about 10 mph. No damage though, of course if I do that 2 or 3 more times they’ll have to surgically remove my head from my ass when I break his transmission.
Back in '91 while driving home on the Eisenhower Expy from school about 8:00 p.m. in the middle lane at about 75 mph, a late model Trans Am passed me at, I estimate, over 100 mph. This would happen repeatedly about once a week and I began getting annoyed, deciding that the next time this guy would try to pass me it wasn’t going to happen.
About a week later, I saw a car gaining on me very rapidly in the left lane. I downshifted to third and was at about 90 mph pretty quickly but the car was still gaining on me so I shifted to fourth and eventually got up to an indicated 130 mph (probably optimistic but the speedo was calibrated). I could no longer see the other car until I realised he was just off my rear bumper going the same speed.
Imagine my surprise when it turned out that it wasn’t the Trans Am, it was a Cook County Sherrif’s Police officer. Imagine my shock when he turned on all the lights and sirens. Red, white and blue. Very patriotic. I about had a heart attack and really could not think of anything to say. I pulled over and began thinking about how in Illinois if you are pulled over for more than 100 mph you go to jail, you don’t get out before seeing the judge, the fine is a minimum of $500, auto insurance becomes unattainable, etc., etc.
As I’m scrambling to find my driver’s license (it’s in my book bag in the trunk) the officer says to me “You do have a driver’s license, don’t you?” I just nodded and said, “But not any more, huh?” The officer glared at me, said “SLOW DOWN!,” returned to his squad car and left. Shaken, I remained on the shoulder for the longest time, realising this was one of the luckiest days of my life.
In case anyone was wondering, no, I haven’t driven like that since.
the dumbest thing ive done with my car (84 chevette) is actually deciding to drive it…the thing is a death trap
its been in 10 accidents so im thinking its cursed, but somehow its still in perfecto condition…HHHMMMMM
first time driving in the rain and i was late for work, time after time i go around this corner at my house, but i guess i took it too fast for my lil speed demon of a car and did a 360 and landed in the ditch…embarassing enough shakes her head then being in a bit of shock, some guy stopped to ask what happened, out of pure habit i got out n locked the door, so i was stuck sittin in the ditch (in pouring rain)waiting for my brother to find a key out of a pile of over 200 random keys.lets say i never made it to work on time
i have an obsession with driving on gravel roads, so one day i decided to go down this one in the middle of winter, its name was Risk street…(no joke)
so me n friends were driving along it, turned out to be someones driveway so we wanted to turn around, i thought i had enouch room to turn around, and i inch forward a bit next thing i know half my car is in the ditch in about 4 feet of snow…surprisingly enough, my baby got herself out, yay!
other things include running a number of red lights, speeding tickets (who would have thought a chevette could speed?), smashing into my trailor in the driveway, spinning out of control for no apparent reason trying to stop, and the ever famous driving high out of my face (bad idea i know…) and driving for about half an hour on the wrong side of the street at 5 in the morning…oops
Dumbest thing? I backed down my (very steep) driveway when it was ice, was slightly off line, tapped the brakes, skidded, and went into my own ditch.
Stupidest thing that had no consequences, but could have killed me, and several other people?
I drove 110 down a 2 lane road outside my neighborhood, in my 92 Civic (this was about 6 years ago). Let me tell you…that car was not made to go 110. It’s the top speed, and it felt like a 1mm movement of the wheel would flip the car. I’ve gotten my new car up to 95 on the highway, when everyone else was flying along, but it is stable as a rock at that speed, but the Civic was shuddering and so sensitive. I was just a moronic kid at the time though. Scared the living piss out of me, and I never did it again.
A very short while after I first got my license, I went to the air force base commisary with my dad. My driver’s ed school taught us that we should always put our emergency brakes on when we park. My dad and I did our shopping, and then we decided that we should go to the mall. So, we hopped in the car and drove the 10 or so miles to the mall. We took the route that varies between 30 mph and 40 mph. As I was entering the mall parking lot, I noticed the smell of burnt rubber. I looked down and realized that I drove the entire way with the emergency brake still on. I quickly parked, released the brake and ushered my dad into the mall as fast as I could. The smell was fairly strong around my car, but I don’t know if he knew that I caused it.
I’ve been freakishly paranoid about my emergency brake ever since. I still put it on when I park, but I psychotically check it several times as I’m driving, by pressing the button and pushing down as hard as I can. I think I’m weirding my boyfriend out by doing that so much.
Well, the dumbest thing I’ve done while driving was pull out in front of a Chevy Blazer that was doing 40 (in a 25) in my grandmother’s Camry while my grandmother was in the passenger seat and my two stepsisters were in the back. Put all three of them in the hospital, and I walked away without a scratch. A physical scratch, that is.
But that’s just a garden-variety screwup, albeit one with nasty consequences. For sheer “where’d my brain go?” stupidity, it’s hard to beat a variation on this:
Except that in my case, I turned right onto a two-lane street, one I’d driven on hundreds of times, and pulled into the left lane, thinking – incorrectly – that it was a two-lane one-way street. In other words, I was now cruising up the wrong way in the other lane. I figured it out only when the guy I had been behind, who was still in the correct lane, looked in his mirror, then over his shoulder at me, and pulled over to the curb with a very concerned expression. I quickly moved back into the right lane, feeling like a colossal moron.
And then there’s the time I was parked and getting frisky with an ex-girlfriend and she knocked the shift lever into neutral, sending us rolling backward into traffic, but I’ve posted that elsewhere already…
I have done many many dumb things with cars. Here are a few.
Paid $1400 for a really nice 62 Chev Impala. I built a race car out of it and the car was ruined in an accident a few weeks later.
Drove a 71 Javelin through a farmers corn field. I was driving down an unfamiliar road going too fast and came up on a 90 degree turn. I was going to fast to make the corner and tried to steer the car onto a farm road. I missed the road and took out about 200 three foot tall corn stalks. The rear shocks broke through the trunk floor and the steering broke. I had to pay the farmer $100 for the corn I took out.
I had a 3/4 ton 69 Dodge truck. Big, heavy, ugly but would go anywhere. I had stopped to get gas and as I was leaving, a minor fender bender was blocking the exit. I thought, no problem, I’ll go over the parking curb into a bank parking lot next door to get out. The curb was about 6 inches high on the gas station side. It was about 18 inches down on the other side. The truck hit on the frame. I was not expecting the jolt. It hit hard enough to shatter the windshield. When the back tires came over the curb, the truck landed on the bottom of the box behind the tires neatly folding them under. I decided I better start looking at the other side of parking curbs before driving over them.
Built a race car out of a 66 Hemi Charger. Sold the Hemi for what I paid for the car. Dumb, dumb, dumb.
I did something very similar right before I stopped driving the tracker. I had parked in an elementary school parking lot (different school) to do more computer repair work and when I was finished I walked out to the car only to find it blocked in by a phone company truck that was on stilts or something to do work. Instead of coming and asking me to move the jackasses just blocked me in. I try to leave by driving over the curb but there was a small drop on the other side. I ended up getting the tracker hung up on the curb. I was able to get out by putting it in reverse and squealing the tires a bit (the rear tires were just barely on the ground with not much weight on them). Again, tough little machine. Eventually the guy parked next to me moved his truck so I could leave that way. As for the phone company guy, I didn’t knock him on his ass, but I shoulda.