Friday, January 6, 2012

There Is A Legitimate Running Theme To My Life

About a half hour ago my stepmother posted on The Facebook that my dad, who is a trucker and has been for most of the last 20 years (probably more, I have no idea), has set his truck on fire.

I'm gonna pause right here to tell you an amazing story from my childhood.

I believe I was about 5 1/2, and my little brother would have been almost 2. It was around Easter and my mom, brother and I went to our neighbor's Easter egg hunt party...thing (I grew up in a tiny country town where the neighbors are all a mile or two away from each other. Just close enough to call each other neighbors but still pretty far away.). We were to be gone for only a few hours. Who would think my dear father could get himself into trouble in a matter of a few hours? Not us, apparently.

Well. A few hours into the party we smell burning rubber and soon after, hear tons of firetrucks in the area. I remember my mother commenting on how suspicious that seemed and I, at 5 years old said "oh I wonder what daddy did now!" Jokingly. I was joking.

We arrived at home not long after and discovered, where the Bronco my grandparents had given us not two days previously, there was a large scorch mark, and no sign at all of the dear Bronco.

It had caught itself on fire. In the driveway. On a perfectly average day. It caught itself on fire in the twenty minutes my father was in the shower. Weird thing is he was going somewhere that day but decided on a shower before he went anywhere. Sometimes the universe freaks me out a little.

Now, I don't know the specifics yet of this event because I haven't called my stepmom yet, but I have to imagine it happened totally randomly and with a good helping of "what the fuck". As does everything that happens in my life. I'm going to call her tomorrow probably when all the hysteria dies down.

Anyway, my dad is totally okay. Shook up, probably angry, and stuck in Pennsylvania for a while, but he's alive and by my mother and my definition, that means he's okay.

The hysterical part is when I told my mom about it and I told her he was our definition of okay, she said "alive or zombie?" My mom is awesome. I told her I'm hoping alive because I'm not ready for an apocalypse yet.

And what Odessa had to say about it when I was like "why is setting vehicles on fire a theme in my father's life?!":
"oh my god, he kills hookers and puts them in his trunk and sets the car on fire". *Awesome*. "you have serial killer DNA. MAYBE HE ALSO EATS THEM? you son of a cannibal."

My best friend, ladies and gentlemen.

If you are not at all amused by this, it must be because I haven't told y'all enough stories to let you know how *bizarre* my life has been and all the weird shit that happens to my poor family. That's our life.

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