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Marina Memories #4: Trucks I Have Killed
Sep. 24th, 2004 10:44 amTrucks I have Killed
The Marina is the kind of place where accidents are unavoidable. You’ve got big boats and big trucks moving around the yard in confined spaces, or worse, you’ve got big boats and big trucks moving on the roads at fast speeds. Collisions happen, breakdowns happen, shit happens. Throughout it all you’ll hear my dad say “that’s what insurance is for”.
It’s remarkable how calm and forgiving Dad can be in these situations. Most bosses would scream and yell and fire you on the spot. First, my dad wants to know if anyone is hurt (or arrested). Then he’ll get the details. Then he’ll say “that’s what insurance is for”. Then the merciless teasing begins. There have only been two exceptions to this rule that I know of: one is too horrible to talk about; the other was the time that Petey the drunken firefighter took a corner too tight in the yard, “somehow” not realizing that he was still hooked up to a loaded trailer. He wiped out an entire row of bass fishing boats. That was the end of Petey (he’s no longer a firefighter, either).
I’ve had three big boo boos over the years. Two were fixable and one was a write-off. Despite my Dad’s calmness and inevitable forgiveness I always freak out when I wreak one of his trucks. I always feel so bad and so stupid (and sometimes hysterical, depending upon the severity of the accident). I’ve never actually had an accident in front of him, so there has always been an agonizing delay before I can get to him to and see his reaction. Sometimes he laughs. Sometimes he asks if my mom knows and looks scared. Every single time he tells me that it’s ok, he loves me and “that’s what insurance is for”.
My first accident was a doozey. ( Read more... )
The Marina is the kind of place where accidents are unavoidable. You’ve got big boats and big trucks moving around the yard in confined spaces, or worse, you’ve got big boats and big trucks moving on the roads at fast speeds. Collisions happen, breakdowns happen, shit happens. Throughout it all you’ll hear my dad say “that’s what insurance is for”.
It’s remarkable how calm and forgiving Dad can be in these situations. Most bosses would scream and yell and fire you on the spot. First, my dad wants to know if anyone is hurt (or arrested). Then he’ll get the details. Then he’ll say “that’s what insurance is for”. Then the merciless teasing begins. There have only been two exceptions to this rule that I know of: one is too horrible to talk about; the other was the time that Petey the drunken firefighter took a corner too tight in the yard, “somehow” not realizing that he was still hooked up to a loaded trailer. He wiped out an entire row of bass fishing boats. That was the end of Petey (he’s no longer a firefighter, either).
I’ve had three big boo boos over the years. Two were fixable and one was a write-off. Despite my Dad’s calmness and inevitable forgiveness I always freak out when I wreak one of his trucks. I always feel so bad and so stupid (and sometimes hysterical, depending upon the severity of the accident). I’ve never actually had an accident in front of him, so there has always been an agonizing delay before I can get to him to and see his reaction. Sometimes he laughs. Sometimes he asks if my mom knows and looks scared. Every single time he tells me that it’s ok, he loves me and “that’s what insurance is for”.
My first accident was a doozey. ( Read more... )