Automobile Short Story #4

Well it has been a while since I wrote my last true automobile short story! I know child, but I was busy during the holidays plus trying to get things sorted for the new year. Now I am super busy with work, learning new computer programs, fixing my portfolio, and studying again for the ARE (Architect Registration Examination).  Uggh, but I am in it to win it fer sures!  So I am trying to keep this going too!  Which brings me to this story.  I will have to say a couple of things though, probably as a preface to explain my awesome scholarly choices.

When I was right out of high school during the mid 90's, I really got into listening to house music and started going to all night raves. Like duh for those who know me... I had graduated high school a semester early (there was a time when I was an overachiever, haha!) and moved up to Denver. So during this time, I was all about going to these parties, dancing all night long, and then sometimes having to go straight to work. It went like this; Every Friday, I would go to a Fab Friday party, dance all night, then go home, sleep a couple of hours maybe, then go to work if I was scheduled, then get ready, then go to a rave Saturday night, dance all night, then go home, most likely not sleep, and then go to work. I would finally sleep Sunday night and then basically be good from Monday - Thursday... This went on for about 5 months before heading off to my freshman year in college.. Call me cray, I know for real.  And then to take it further cheyeld, starting college with an Architecture major also meant a lot of staying up all hours of the night, actually many sleepless nights working on projects to make the deadlines! Oof! So when I started college, a few semesters in the beginning of my college career got a little out of hand where these two worlds of academia and all night raving were starting to collide with eachother!!. For example, there was this one semester when I thought it was such a great idea to take a 6 credit hour Studio and a 3 hour AutoCAD class over the summer. It went like this.. We would have a deadline for our work due every Monday for critique, So basically I would be in the studio working on models and drawings all week up til Friday night, then sleep, then go back to the studio to work more, then get ready for Saturday night's party, dance all night, then head back to the studio to work all Sunday night for Monday's critique.. And then child, I would head to my other class that day and would finally head home and sleep Monday night. And I did this for 3 months.. Anyways, needless to say, I somewhat became a night owl and sometimes when the sun would come up, I would have a hard time trying to go to sleep. Hmmm well, staying up all night and then going through the next day without sleep caught up with me a few times, and here is one of them. Hoagh!

Oh yeah!!! Back to the story...Picture this, it was the beginning of Summer of 1998 in Denver CO, and I had just finished my spring semester of college.  I was going to be on a couple of weeks of break, and then I was going to start taking that Studio class that I mentioned previously...mmmmmhmmmmm... So I was all about letting my hair down and wasn't about to miss any gathering or party adventure! So one Friday night, I got into my black 1987 Nissan Pulsar, and headed over to a friends house to have a couple of drinks... While listening to records there , my homegirl Melissa and my home boy Josh convinced me that since we were on the list, we needed to hit this party up in Boulder at a friend's club, and I was of course "Let's Roll on up there then bitches!". So we got into my car and cruised up to Boulder, thinking to myself that it was going to be a fun early night, no big deal.. Yeah right, we had so much fun that we ended up shutting the place down, and meeting new peeps who invited us to an after party in Broomfield, which is a small suburban area on the way back to Denver... Anyways, we went and partied even more, while our friends took turns playing records. I actually met one of my homies for the first time too, who complimented me on my vintage motorcycle photograph tank top btw... (Yes cheyeld, I still have that tank top!) So we finally left and headed back to Denver at like 10:00 am! I know, CRACKACITA!!! RAVEACITA!! Luckily we were fine and it was a smooth ride home, with the t-tops off the roof and the latest Vitamin D promotional tape blasting on the stereo! (Shout out to Vitamin D for sure! haha).  I drop my friends off and head home to shower and sleep, since I didn't have to work that day..

Oh yeah, so I lay down and maybe doze off for a few minutes here and there to realize that I am basically not going to be able to sleep til way later.   Hmmmm.  So I get up and head into the living room to hang out and talk to one of my roommates, Robbie. We start chit chatting and then it hits me that today is one of my best friend's birthday and homegirl is having an outdoor party back up in Boulder!  So I decide that we should go to the party since I wouldn't want to miss it and had already said that I would be there.. I know!  We get ready, get into my car (You know, that awesome 1987 black Nissan Pulsar I mentioned earlier) and head on back on up there. We meet at my friends house to round up the troops, put the keg in the trunk,  and then head to a park in north Boulder.  T'was a lot of fun hanging out with my peeps, but I of course someone thought it was a great idea to do Tequila shots and I wonder whose idea that could have been?!  Anyways, I started going down fast after that, which led to me walking over to my car to take a disco nap, while everyone else partied on.

So my homeboy Robbie wakes me up a while later saying he's ready to head back and that since I am in no shape to drive, he will drive my car, which I was truly grateful for at the moment.  So what do I do you ask!?  My ass passes back out as we drive away from the park. A few minutes go by, according to what happens next, and I am woken up by a loud smack!  I open my eyes and see the hood of my car folded up towards me.  Basically, we were driving up a hill in a residential neighborhood and when we got up to a curve that veered left, a car came toward us out of the blind spot from the curve which caused my friend to swerve out of the way, overcorrect, and crash into a tree that caused my car to be sandwiched between the tree we hit and the one behind the car.  And guess what was beyond that tree you ask?  A cliff with a 30'-40' drop off! S C A R Y! This is where it gets cray!  There were people outside in their front yard down the street who witnessed the whole thing, so of course the cops and emergency services were called right away. Luckily we weren't hurt or anything, but Robbie decides to tell me in that instant, "Tony, I have to leave right now because I have two warrants for my arrest!" So homeboy takes off down the cliff, runs to the party at the park, tells the people what happens, and then continues on into the sunset!  Meanwhile, the police show up and here I am a mess. They start to bust out the handcuffs when luckily those people, witnesses, (Can I get a witness? That's for Brady) told the police that I wasn't driving and that the person who was took off. So they started asking all kinds of questions.  I basically told them this awesome lie that I was at a party, and this kid who was there that I knew mostly as an aquaintance, needed a ride to Denver and that I told him it would be no problem as long as he drove us back so I could drink!  Totally believable right?

Anyways! I get my car towed, the police drop me off at the downtown Boulder bus station, and I head back to Denver on the bus, barefoot!!!  I forgot to mention, chiolds, that while I was staggering and getting out of my wrecked car, I lost my flip flops that I was wearing down the cliff!  Ay ay ay..  Needless to say, I made it home in one piece thankfully.  Eeeee, talk about craziness. Oh also I need to mention that a week before this, I took my car to the shop because of an exhaust problem, and the mechanic did a compression test on the cylinders which to the discovery was the fact that I was going to need a rebuilt engine, so the car was going to be on it's way out within a matter of time anyway, but I didn't know it would be with a bang!

So I always end these lovely short stories with a moral of the story, but this one definitley has so many, that I have to improvise and give you only a few to choose from.. So here are your choices.

A. Don't let your friends convince you to go to an afterparty after being up all night.

B. Don't go to an after after party in another city without sleeping.

C. Don't drink tequila shots at a party when you know damn well that you have to drive to another city to get back home.

D. Don't let a friend or criminal who has a warrant drive your car.

E. Don't wear flip flops in case your in a car accident with a tree.

Here are some pics of my car for your visual needs too......

Automobile Short Story #3!

So I have been mulling around about which story to tell next regarding my adventures with automobiles and my awesome luck with them... I'm totally innocent in this one for real, and for once, child.. Oh and you just cannot make this stuff up either!! This also happened in my 20's, but here in Brooklyn. As I said before, I love Manhattan and if I could, I would live here forever, but, our space is getting cramped, so who knows where we will b in the next couple of years. Not that we are leaving New York by any means. Also I'm still in my Carrie Bradshaw phase, for real... My Brooklynite friends are always trying to convince me to move back. They are all like "You can have a car and everything is cheaper here!". And I'm all "No way Jose!".. And this is the reason! Oh yeah and by the way and for the record, I'm not all about dissing about where people live and those who do are lame asses and need to get over themselves... So there...

Picture this child, middle of January 2004, and my ass has to go to Philadelphia for a Visual Merchandising Manager's conference for the weekend. At the time, I was working for Diesel USA and had been with the company for about 4 years. Helped open the Cherry Creek Store in Denver previously, and had by this time transferred with the company to New York. Was working at the Lexington flagship store and Just started going out to Long Island to work at the store out there, which required me to have a car.. Good thing I kept my car when I moved out here, otherwise that would have been a nightmare and daymare of a commute, like 2 hours each way child...

Anyways mates, the meeting goes really well and I actually had a great time!  It was a nice break from the store, mostly because my manager was a total bitch.  She was the type of evil whore that acts nice to you in front of other employees but then when it is just the two of you, she ends up being mean, critical, and micro-manager.  Also, for some reason, she was also condescending to me and it had to do with the fact that I had just moved from Denver.  Estupida!  Little did she know!  So then, back to the story.  I take the train back to New York on Sunday morning because I have to work late afternoon! (And by the way, everybody else who was at the meeting had Sunday off! See I told you my boss was lame!).  "No biggie! I'll just head home, drop off my stuff, and drive out to Long Island!", I say to myself.

So I get back to my apartment in Williamsburg, get ready and then walk down to the Williamsburg bridge to where my car is parked.  As soon as I turn the corner I look down the street and my car is not there!! So of course I'm all, "Where the fuck is my car?!" So what do I do you ask? I call the police to report my car stolen, and get this, they are all telling me that I have an unpaid parking ticket from a month prior, and that my car was probably towed to the Brooklyn Navy Yard and to contact them.  So I do and they are closed for the day.  But then I'm all "No way, my car is a 1994 Acura Integra (only 70,000 miles on it) and I know that those cars are a target for parts from kids who like to supe up their Hondas or Acuras!  Someone stole it for sure I think".  So I call the police and tell them to get their asses down to where I am at so I can make a police report. Reluctantly they do and show up an hour later, and of course they can't even tell me if my car was towed or not.. Uggh, so they fill out the report, and then I head home and call off work...

But then child, as I am at the apartment, the wheels start turning in my head and I'm all, "Wait! What if my car really has been towed, then I need to go online and find out if I have a parking ticket because they probably won't let me get my car out without proof that the ticket has been paid."  So of course I call my friend in Manhattan to see if he is at home because I hadn't had the internet installed at my apartment yet.  So I find out that my homie is there and he tells me it's cool to come over and use his computer.  Werd, so I get ready and head to the L train.  I get to the L train and of course, they are doing maintenance on the track and the train is not running all weekend.  So I am all "Great, now my ass has to walk all the way up and catch the G train, take it to Queens, transfer to the E, and head into the city that way!"  So I head up north on Bedford towards the Nassau stop.

This is where it gets more nightmarish.  I cross North 11th St, and as I am turning my head to see if there are any cars coming, I look down the street and about 100 feet away is my fucking car!!! "How the fuck did it get here?!" I say to myself.  So I get real excited as I walk towards it only to find that the whole inside has been stripped!  The seats and the center console are gone! Oh and get this, my stereo and CD 6 changer in the trunk is all intact! Weird.  They completely sawed through my club on the steering wheel, stole the car, stripped it, and then left it in the same neighborhood.   So I get the thing towed and I say "Fuck it, I am going to sell it on craigslist now!"  So I do and the hellish commute commences, which doesn't last too long.

But as I always tend to move forward and try not dwell too much on the past, (Could you imagine if I did!? I'd probably be real depressed! haha) I totally look at this whole drama for your mama event in retrospect as a blessing in disguise.  It actually made me look for a new job in the city, which I found not too soon afterwards, and no more evil boss either!

So the moral of the story is, well here are your choices!

A. Don't leave your car parked under the Williamsburg Bridge.

B. Don't work for evil whores!

C. Drive to Philadelphia, don't take the train.

D. Park your car in a garage when you leave town..


Oh wait!  here is picture of my car that I found online....

Automobile Story #2

Good Lord! There's so many of these... Really though, I think it's theraputical in a way, for me, not you, whores and childs alike. I mean it really puts things in perspective how wreckless one can be.. I have to say though it is a miracle that I'm still alive, child. And grateful...Oh yeah,,  back to the story... Anyways, I call this as part of  the Tony Buen-whore cronicles... .

Ok here goes child,

Picture this, March of something in 1995, Pueblo CO, child. Here I am 18 and overacheiver graduating a semester early in highschool, and all about it! Ugghh why.. Still don't know girls.... But anyways, I'm a working 2 jobs, one at Matrixx Marketing (you know the one) and some random telemarketing company... Wanting to move to Denver, but not knowing when or how... Anyways, one of my best friends,who is back and forth between Pueblo and Denver, is selling sheets of LSD, and guess who is helping? Well not me, at first..  But then child, I end up connecting her to cholos and cholacitas to get the ball rolling of course.. So this story starts on a Friday night.

My friend calls me to tell me she is in town and her parents are not, so of course my response is "Hell yeah, party at your parents house!"  Oh but or course I have to tell you for one, that her parent's house is in a nice secluded neighborhood, and two, it is like a museum, as in the fucking place is spotless. Even the garage is a white box, where you see 2 cars and a floor mat, with no tools or cabinets or a lawn mower.. nada..  Everything is labeled and in the attic.. Weird...

So at this time in my life, I am driving a used 1987 midnight blue Jeep Cherokee, aka a closet suv according to my friend ( I can laugh about it now ).  So I cruise over to my homegirls house to party it down, except, knowing in my head, that I have to work the next morning. "So no Lsd", I say to myself! So what do I do you ask? I have a friend go to Dogpatch Liquors to buy me a pint of tequila, and a six pack of beer, let's say a six pack of coors light...  Anyways whores, I show up and so do a bunch of friends.. I end up drinking all of that while everyone else trips balls out...  People are doing cartwheels down the stairs, a girlfriend goes after her boyfriend with a knife - crazy shit like that!  Well, as we can all anticipate, my ass gets all wasted and I end up passing out in my Jeep.  What I don't remember and what happens is that my foot presses on the clutch so that my car ends up rolling out onto the street. Oh and also my head falls on the wheel where the horn is going off continuously!!! Yep.. So everyone at the party, who is peaking by this time, tries to wake me up and grab my keys.  But of course I'm not having it, I mean, they are on drugs and I am not, right? haha..

Bitches, this is where it gets good! I yell all beligerent at everyone, start my Jeep, and proceed down the street like a bat out of hell!  My friend tells me, later of course,  that all he could hear after that were screeching wheels, fences getting knocked down, you name it!  Totally mowed down homegirl's neighbors fence, backed out, mowed it down again, backed out, mowed down another fence, wrecked into a fire hydrant, another car, got a flat tire, lost both contacts in my eyes, and end up leaving the scene of the crime wandering the streets until I make my way back to my friends house... Holy Shitballs!!!!  Totally fucked!

Anyways, I go home the next day, and of course, there's a tow truck with my Jeep!  Omg I was in so much trouble! So what do I do? I leave and move to Denver that week and that's when the love of Fab Fridays and every Saturday Raves begins, child...............................

So here's the moral of the story! Here are your choices!

A. Don't become friends with drug dealers.

B. Don't drive a Jeep Cherokee.

C. Don't drink a bottle of tequila and a six pack of beer by yourself.

D. Don't drink and drive.

E. Don't pass out in your car and allow it to roll down the street.

F. Don't mow down your friend's neighbor's fences...

Next Short Story - The Automobile Series

Child, as some of you may or may not know, I live in New York City, where having a car is a nightmare, because basically it will get nicked, ticketed, towed, broken into, or stolen.  (Mine did get stolen, but that's another story, not this one). Also, if you live in Manhattan like me, it is just plain expensive to have, especially if you have to put it in a garage.  Besides that, there is plenty of other ways to get around anyway, like walking, taking the train, or a cab, which is fine by me!  And this story will explain why this is good for you not having me behind the wheel too!!!!

So ANYWAYS, picture this, it's the year 1993, and I just turned 16.  Oh yeah, but wait I have to tell you this first.  A couple of years before that, my parents bought a 1983 Yellow Nissan Truck for me to drive when I got my license. It had mag rims and a black tarp to cover the back. Did I mention it also had a sunroof!  Totally ran that thing into the ground, but I will get to that later in another story, as there are many of them in this series. So on Friday nights when my mom would hit the town, and when my sister would head to some keg party at the clearing (explain that one later fo' sho' too, in the party series of short stories!),  my 14 year-old ass would sneak the truck and go cruising around my neighborhood, teaching myself how to drive a stick shift. So I got really confident driving by the time I turned 16, and getting my license was a piece of cake!  For reals...

Anyways bitches, back to the story of when I turned 16.  One weeknight about a couple of months after getting my license, I got off work around 9:00 pm at my part-time job (Furrs Cafeteria as a dishwasher = gross!) and got into my truck and started to head home.  As I came to the intersection down the street, I stopped at the flashing red light and then started to proceed into the intersection when all of a sudden, I see a cop car flash his lights on behind me.  The 5-0 pulls my ass over and starts to tell me that I didn't make a complete stop at a flashing red light. I'm still not sure if I did or didn't but whatever.  But I'm so sure anyway, how dumb! Who fucking cares!?  Uggh, obviously homeboy did so I basically I just sat there because I knew this asshole cop wasn't gonna let me get out of this without a ticket. So sure enough, he gave me a ticket and then tells me that I have to appear in court since I am under 18 and some other nonsense.

And then child, I go to court and of course, the judge was all telling me that I have to do one day of traffic school in order to get this violation taken off my record, so I do! So on one fine Saturday afternoon, I head to a full day of  traffic school, which I couldn't even tell you what went on at class, because it was for days ago, but I am sure we watched some afterschool special driving scenario videos and whatnot.  And then child, the instructor tells us that it's lunchtime and that we have an hour and to be back at 1:00.  "No worries! I'll just cruise home to eat real quick and then head back"!, I said to myself.  So I get into my awesome truck, and start heading to my casa.  So I'm all in a good mood, and getting real close, let's say, about a block from my house, and what happens?  Well child, I see a stop sign so I stop.  Then I start to turn on my street, when all of a sudden, this viejo (old man) in his awesome brown 70's boat looking Ford Ltd comes cruising right up the street and, BOOM, I crash into his ass! And then child, I get out of my truck to see what damage there is, and of course, my left fender is all jacked up! I look at his car, and all I see is a broken turning signal lamp.. I'm so sure and of course this would happen... So what do I do? What any respectable teenager would do in my shoes.  I basically pay the man off, and then child, I head back to traffic school all scared and shit that someone is going to find out!  Nothing ever happens and I get my truck fixed later on.. And sure enough my friend can't stop laughing after I tell her.. It is actually pretty funny after all, ha?

So what is the moral of this story?  Here are your choices:

A. Make a complete stop at a flashing red light.

B. Don't get a part-time job at Furr's Cafeteria.

C. Don't get in a car accident at lunch during traffic school..

D. Don't crash into a boat looking Brown 70's Ford Ltd.

More Automobile stories to come child.....

xoxo

Here is a picture of my Truck that I found online... Hilarical!