The Warden
MiB Impersonator
I meant to post this yesterday, but was busy with the Scout program I work with and couldn't be on my computer. Many of you have probably heard this story before, but please bear with me.
I was 15 years old in the summer of 1996. I was at a restaurant with my dad, my step-mother, my dad's sister, and her husband. My dad decided that I needed to have a bite of the liver & onions on his plate. I've always been an extraordinarily picky eater, so the idea of eating even that one bite was so repulsive that I immediately declined his "offer". As expected, everyone at the table laughed at me, and my uncle decided to up the ante. He told me that, if I ate just that one bite, he'd let me drive his truck. I was nervous and excited at the same time by this prospect...I had always thought that his diesel F-250 was a cool truck, but I was afraid to drive a clutch and I was still afraid of that forkful of liver & onions. Finally, excitement overcame fear, and I gulped the bite down so fast that I could never describe how it tasted (except to know that I would never order it for myself!). After guzzling down a cup of chocolate milk to get the remainder of the taste out, followed immediately by another round of laughter from everyone else, we continued our meal, left the restaurant, and found an empty street in an area then under construction.
I had driven a car twice before (my aunt's early '90's Geo Metro and my dad's '91 F-150), but after the "adventure" of trying to work the clutch in the Geo (how often do you see a 1.0l inline-3 engine break traction?
), I was quite nervous about being behind the wheel of a vehicle with a manual transmission...not to mention that this was only my third time behind the wheel of a car, and at that point in my life I actually had more time at the helm of a boat AND at the controls of an airplane than I had spent driving a land-based motor vehicle. My uncle put me in the driver's seat, had me push the clutch in and put the transmission into 1st gear, then told me to slowly release the clutch. In the Geo, that would immediately result in a dead engine, but by the miracle of torque, the truck's engine DIDN'T die and we were moving!! It was the smoothest start I'd ever had with a clutch, and without touching the throttle! Compared to the Geo, where you needed a delicate balance between the clutch and gas pedals to get a jerky start, and I NEVER got that POS to start smoothly, the truck was mind-blowing.
The evening wasn't entirely incident-free, but it went FAR better than the afternoon in the Geo had gone, and I had a newfound quasi-confidence in driving a clutch...and, although I always had a great and close relationship with my uncle, that will always be my most vivid memory of him.
Ten years ago yesterday, on April 30th, 2001, he was ripped out of our lives by a sudden, massive heart attack while backing his tractor-trailer to a loading dock. He had had pneumonia, which was improperly treated, and then the doctors failed to notice the enlarged lungs putting pressure on his heart...and people wonder why I will die in the street before setting foot in a building owned by Kaiser Permanente, but I digress. The truck I had learned to drive a clutch with is now mine...my aunt decided to give the truck to me, saying that that's what my uncle had wanted, but wasn't ready yet to give it up. Even through the transformations over the years (adding the turbo; switching to a ZF5, not to mention everything that's coming up), at her soul, she's still the truck from that day in 1996...I love the truck to death, but I'd give her up in a heartbeat to have my Uncle Richard back.
Thank you for reading...
I was 15 years old in the summer of 1996. I was at a restaurant with my dad, my step-mother, my dad's sister, and her husband. My dad decided that I needed to have a bite of the liver & onions on his plate. I've always been an extraordinarily picky eater, so the idea of eating even that one bite was so repulsive that I immediately declined his "offer". As expected, everyone at the table laughed at me, and my uncle decided to up the ante. He told me that, if I ate just that one bite, he'd let me drive his truck. I was nervous and excited at the same time by this prospect...I had always thought that his diesel F-250 was a cool truck, but I was afraid to drive a clutch and I was still afraid of that forkful of liver & onions. Finally, excitement overcame fear, and I gulped the bite down so fast that I could never describe how it tasted (except to know that I would never order it for myself!). After guzzling down a cup of chocolate milk to get the remainder of the taste out, followed immediately by another round of laughter from everyone else, we continued our meal, left the restaurant, and found an empty street in an area then under construction.
I had driven a car twice before (my aunt's early '90's Geo Metro and my dad's '91 F-150), but after the "adventure" of trying to work the clutch in the Geo (how often do you see a 1.0l inline-3 engine break traction?
), I was quite nervous about being behind the wheel of a vehicle with a manual transmission...not to mention that this was only my third time behind the wheel of a car, and at that point in my life I actually had more time at the helm of a boat AND at the controls of an airplane than I had spent driving a land-based motor vehicle. My uncle put me in the driver's seat, had me push the clutch in and put the transmission into 1st gear, then told me to slowly release the clutch. In the Geo, that would immediately result in a dead engine, but by the miracle of torque, the truck's engine DIDN'T die and we were moving!! It was the smoothest start I'd ever had with a clutch, and without touching the throttle! Compared to the Geo, where you needed a delicate balance between the clutch and gas pedals to get a jerky start, and I NEVER got that POS to start smoothly, the truck was mind-blowing.The evening wasn't entirely incident-free, but it went FAR better than the afternoon in the Geo had gone, and I had a newfound quasi-confidence in driving a clutch...and, although I always had a great and close relationship with my uncle, that will always be my most vivid memory of him.
Ten years ago yesterday, on April 30th, 2001, he was ripped out of our lives by a sudden, massive heart attack while backing his tractor-trailer to a loading dock. He had had pneumonia, which was improperly treated, and then the doctors failed to notice the enlarged lungs putting pressure on his heart...and people wonder why I will die in the street before setting foot in a building owned by Kaiser Permanente, but I digress. The truck I had learned to drive a clutch with is now mine...my aunt decided to give the truck to me, saying that that's what my uncle had wanted, but wasn't ready yet to give it up. Even through the transformations over the years (adding the turbo; switching to a ZF5, not to mention everything that's coming up), at her soul, she's still the truck from that day in 1996...I love the truck to death, but I'd give her up in a heartbeat to have my Uncle Richard back.
Thank you for reading...
. My first truck was a '73 f100, 302, three on the tree. My mom was the teacher, my dad parked it for his one year old '83 F150. I only got to use 1st and rev., I was 9 yrs old. I cried like a baby when he sold it.
Looking back it was a POS. 
