Saturday night we decided to go to bed earlier than we had been. Usually we crawl in bed by 9p.m. but with family here from out of town I don't think we had gotten to bed before midnight in weeks. At 11:30 p.m.ish I heard the most horrific crash, metal scraping, trees, snapping, tires squealing, kind of crash, I had heard ever. It woke me up hitting Job, screaming, "call 911! Call 911!" We went running out on the porch with two very different agendas. Job wanted to go running up and check things out. I, figuring that this type of accident coupled with the type of car (a 1980's teal Camero), for sure involved mass amounts of alcohol at the local tavern, stood on the porch yelling into the blackness, "Is anyone out there? Is someone hurt?" Job got off the phone with the emergency dispatcher and as he did a man with long hair, possibly a mullet, came walking back down the road cowboy boots clicking away on the pavement, asking, "Did you call the police?" When Job assured him he had all he said, repeatedly, was, "poop!" Okay that's not what he really said but come on, I can't type what he really said and still feel good about the link to my church's website...Then In a panic he said he couldn't stay. He told us he had done something bad. He had gotten into a fight with his wife, and off he clicked into the darkness. The Sheriff's department eventually came, they took off to the man's house after running his plates, leaving Rob and I sitting in lawn chairs in the front yard wondering what we should do. At this point the white van enters the story. My big fear with the guy disappearing was that he would return with six of his biggest friends. What I didn't stop to think is that him sending two stupid guys in a van would be just as bad. I found myself back on the phone with 911. The men removed things from the Camero and took off again. I tell Rob to go get my Red Rider BB gun but all he says to that is, "Are you serious?" We go back to our lawn chairs and wait, but here comes the white van again. Out pops the two guys and they are back into the Camero when one of them starts walking down the road toward my driveway! Panic kicks in. Call number three to 911! The police come back. They question the guy left at the van by his buddy and you can hear the police asking him if he is stupid. DUH! More police arrive (totally tearing up my gravel driveway by the way), and the van stays. Turns out it won't start! Now we have two broken down cars in front of our house and several police vehicles. In the end, everyone was sent home. The driver was never found and the police assured me his record currently was clean, he had no prior convictions and was not listed on any state registry that would cause me to pack up my children and stay at the local Marriott/Best Western in town. They said in two days I could report the car as abandoned and then it could be towed, after receiving the obligatory bright orange check mark that cars get when abandoned on the side of the road. If the car had been in our yard or blocking traffic (both of which it did not) he could authorize an immediate tow. Job offered to pull it into the road and while the officer did consider taking a short drive, I told Job he could not do it. So, Job and I went back into the house checking to lock all the doors and windows, and laid there grateful the boys had stayed asleep and grandma never stirred!
Oh- Sunday morning the white van came and retrieved the car. He said his friend was sorry and they would replace the section of fence and the mailbox.
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tag - you're it
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