Story time! OR How I was run over.

So I’ve come to decide that I will fill my blog with photos so that my stories have more color. Fun for you and cringe worthy for me.

I remember this stupid hat. I loved it. Everything about it. It was pink and soft and had a cluster of pearl beads.

this photo was taken in La Pine. Part of where I spent my childhood. More on that later.

Before the mouse was a skater boi and super cool for a new generation.

Silver Falls, Oregon

My older step sister, middle step brother and my youngest half brother.

This is the house and the time I’ll be talking about.

We lived in a small neighborhood behind McNary High. The summers were mild and kids filled the street playing. Basketball hoops were up and happy squeals filled the air. Mom worked small jobs in the late or ungodly hours. She was always home while we were awake and spent her days doing housework and tending to us.

During the summers and weekends, Ma would take me with her to work.

When she worked for a cleaning company, late at night she would go out to clean. One such night, she took me with her to the old ATT building downtown. I felt so special sitting next to her in the car. I got to go. Time with mom was precious. The building was dark and empty. She led me through the halls and doors to a dark, tiny, old break room. The single table had two chairs and was bathed in a dim glow from the pop machine. I had enough change to trifle with it. Fortunately it dispensed a soda and I settled in with my book. Ma had said she would be back soon, as the offices I wasn’t allowed to be in. Every sound from the open door was a monster waiting to suck my bones from my body. My book wasn’t enough to keep my mind from trailing to all the ways I would die alone. In the dark. I desperately kept my eyes on the words, terrified I would look up and see the awful creature that would seal my fate. Ma did say she would be back soon. I was a sitting duck. I might as well have been sitting before a “good eats” sign. Just when I thought it was over for me, I heard dragging. Maybe footsteps. “This is it,” I thought. “I die tonight.” Thankfully, to the relief of my pounding heart- it was ma. I stayed with her for the duration of the cleaning. Even when we went to the basement for more fluorescent bulbs. I will never forget the desks. They were cornered together like I’d seen on tv. Everyone had trinkets and toys adorning the computers. Some had candy dishes that I snacked from as I continued to tour the room. One desk was covered. More embellishments than I had seen all night. Right in the front was a plaque. It read “turd bird.” Standing on two legs, with googly eyes and a beak glued on, was a turd. But it wasn’t a small one. This was a solid horse turd that was mounted on this desk. Someone was obviously feeling very cheeky.

At one point she worked for Statesman Journal- a newspaper company. She would get up at 2 or 3 in the morning and get dressed. She would drive out to the “meeting spot” - a public neutral place that the truck offloaded cages of papers. Each carrier would have a delivery route and pick up the number of papers needed. My favorite nights were when the papers ran late. The company would provide doughnuts for the inconvenience to the carriers. There was nothing like the powdered raspberry filled ones to make my night. Some nights we would have to fill up with sample bags. These were special bags that we rolled the papers in, with goodies for the customers. Once it was Sun Chips. The worst one was soap. Nothing like 300 bags with soap to blow all the hairs out of your nose. We always stayed at the meeting place and rolled all our papers. Bags for rainy days and rubber bands for summer. Once everything was loaded into our dingleberry of a car, we drove to the neighborhoods to deliver.

Now let me pause here. We had some 300 papers. Rolled and ready. And we loaded them into this

It’s a 1989, 2 door, Ford Escort.

So this car was cheap. And our family lived in cheap.

This was the car that had the rolling front seat belts every time you open the door. The ones that rolled back and put your shoulder strap in place. So at every stop, every house, the door opens and you have to wait for the seat belt to get out of the way.

This is the car that would over heat from sitting in idle too long. Which apparently too long was defined as every half hour or so. We would have to stop what we were doing and pop the hood and drive quickly down a long stretch of road. This would cool it off enough that we could keep going.

Anyway. Back to loading this tiny obnoxious car with papers.

One morning, the truck was late and so we go the papers out late too.

We were going strong and driving to the next street. Out of nowhere the next thing I know, ma is yelling "Get down!" She puts her arm out and covered my face. There was a man running up the street naked. I hadn't seen him until she said anything. Ma was less than pleased.

We were still going strong and kept trying to find ways to cut the time it took to get the papers out. Even putting the shoulder strap behind our backs in between stops didn't help. Then if you didn't get out fast enough, the strap was still in your way.

My next idea was to sit on the hood of the car and ride the 5mph between stops. Ma would hold the papers out of the window and I would hop off and take it to the house. It worked so well. I would hang on using the slot holes in the top of the hood by the wipers. We got into a system. We started using the method for most of the routes. Soon, I was hanging onto the hood as we went from street to street.

SO we're going along, I'm riding on the hood. The wind is cooling to the sweat I've worked up running. After the next house, I hung on and rode cowboy with both my legs off the side of the hood. Ma turned onto the next street. Before either of us knew what happened, I was ripped off the hood by my pant leg. You guessed it. My legs were hanging off the side and the tire caught my leg and ripped me off the hood and down to the pavement.

Since ma saw me go down, she stopped the car and yelled out to me. She stopped the car. Dead stop. And the front passenger tire was stopped on my thigh. I was trapped and laying under the car.

I don't remember pain. I remember laying on my back, staring at the brightening dawn, cool air on m cheeks, how heavy the tire was on my inner thigh. Ma is yelling out to me. I'm screaming for her to move. After what felt like hours, she pulled forward and I rolled out.

Nothing was broken. Sore and skinned, little beads of blood. Nothing serious.

I stopped riding on the hood that night. Not for good. Just for the night. But that was damn sure the last time I rode with my legs off the side of the hood.

Have a good day guys. Be kind.

And if it harm none, do as thou wilt.