So, as I mentioned in another thread, I’ve recently moved. My youngest sister (I’ll call her Mrs. Raven) helped me with the last load of furniture and boxes. The truck she used is one they use in the family business for picking up lumber and hauling stuff to the dump and such. It’s seen better days–much, much better days–and she didn’t really want to drive it in its current condition. But Mr. Raven was out of town and there was no other vehicle available for the job. She figured if we stayed off the freeway, we should be fine.
We got to my place, some 20 miles distant, loaded up and got about two thirds of the way back when Mrs. Raven uttered those immortal words, “Do you smell something burning?” She pulled over and a quick inspection found one of the front wheels was hotter than it should be. Our own instincts and a brief discussion with a kind fellow passing by left us convinced the brake had frozen up.
We knew there was a national chain tire-and-brake garage just down the road so we decided to limp (er, herky-jerk, at this point) on toward it, rather than have to pay for a tow. We got there without going up in flames but I’m sure it was a close thing.
So, we’re sitting in the waiting area as the brakes get checked out and there’s a mechanic helping another customer at the front desk. We couldn’t help overhearing as the mechanic asked the customer his name. “Earl,” the customer replied. The mechanic wanted to make sure he got the spelling right, so he said, “I R L?”
Sis and I looked at each other and just about lost it. We laughed as quietly as possible.
Now, before you say we were being rude and juvenile, understand that Earl was the name of our father, who passed away just six months ago. We miss him greatly. Naturally, upon hearing his name, our ears pricked up. Then, to hear such a simple name misspelled like that, well, it simply struck our funny bones just the right place. It served as a great tension reliever. Mrs. Raven, who had become quite stressed out driving that hunk-of-junk truck, said between chuckles, “It was worth it just for that.”
Maybe you had to be there and my story simply left you cold. Or maybe this made you think of your own absurd moment you now want to share. Personally, I’m hoping for the latter.
Then it went into the trash.
