Rain Man Goes Shopping Episode I: The Phantom Brake

Every legend has a beginning...A 1997 Honda Civic much as mine appeared, pristine and unblemished, 13 and a half years ago.

With rumors that certain readers would quit reading if I didn't post about something besides P90X soon (I'm looking at you, Adrienne), I decided to write something else about my own stupidity. Unfortunately, I haven't done anything too stupid since the Publix automatic door fiasco, so I had to dig deep down into the archives to unearth this gem. Many of you are familiar with this story, but it's probably worth re-telling. So, without further delay, I present to you the prequel to my Rain Man Goes Shopping post. Like most prequels, it is probably too long and is almost certainly not as good as the original, but if you lower your expectations, it might just be worth a read...

The setting is about 11 years (and 20 or 30 pounds) prior to the events of Rain Man Goes Shopping. There's a shopping center on South Milledge Avenue in Athens that used to include a Bi-Lo grocery store (I'm not sure what it is now, but I don't think it is even a grocery store). Apparently hungry one fateful afternoon of my junior year at UGA (1999-2000), I parked my (then two-year-old and still relatively newish) car maybe a third of the way across the rather large and about half-full parking lot from the store. My carefree, college version of myself strolled across the bright, sunny parking lot, entered Bi-Lo (without any awkwardness letting girls in or out that I remember), picked up my Doritos and Ramen Noodles or whatever, and headed back out the automatic door (again, without incident). As I got to my car, I realized that it wasn't there. Was I on the wrong row? Had I not gone far enough out into the parking lot yet?

I literally looked all around me in every direction, scratching my head and wondering if my car had been stolen or towed or what (my car was no stranger to parking violations even at such a young age). Eventually, all the way back at the back of the parking lot, I saw a car that looked a lot like mine facing me, but parked halfway over the curb. Still not convinced that this was my car (why would anyone move it back there?...and how?), I asked a guy in a cherry-picker near the back of the parking lot (working on a light post or something) if he had seen anyone move that car. This guy said it was there when he got there and probably proceeded to mock me under his breath.

Eleven years later, Ol' Bessie still bears the scars of that fateful day (among others). The dark puncture wounds almost directly above the tailpipe are the ones she suffered at Bi-Lo so long ago.

I walked cautiously up to the little red Civic as if I expected a friend or roommate to pop out with a paint ball gun or water balloons (and I'm still convinced a prank of this sort was more likely than the truth). This car had the exact same UGA, Dave Matthews, and Widespread Panic stickers as mine, all in the same locations. Okay, so now I was pretty sure it was mine (though I still didn't want to believe it). As I circled the car, I noticed it was parked inches short of one of the huge light posts (and its thick concrete base). Whoever did this obviously didn't want to hurt my car, but...why did they back it over...this curb...and...this...stop sign? What the? The back half of my car was resting on a bent-over stop sign!

Finally beginning to piece it together, my fears were confirmed when I got in and realized the parking brake was, in fact, not engaged. My poor car has a manual transmission and to this day, I have a terrible habit of not putting it in gear when I park it and relying solely on the parking brake. As I surveyed the parking lot one last time, I was struck by just how many cars were between me and where I had parked. The lot was by no means full, but I'd say it was at least half full and my car was somewhere in the middle of the mass of cars when I left it.

I can only imagine what other shoppers leaving Bi-Lo at this time (probably some smokin'-hot sorority girls) must have thought as they saw my completely aloof 20-year-old self get out of my car and casually and confidently walk towards the store as my car began its ever-so-slow creep towards destiny (and a dozen other cars, a light post or two, and a stop sign 50 yards away).

In the words of Barack Obama, let me be clear: this is not the story of a car that drifted in a straight line through an empty parking lot and landed harmlessly on a stop sign 50 yards away. If you were at the store facing the parking lot, I left it facing to the left and found it facing the store and a little to the right (again, 50 yards away at the back of the parking lot). This car went on a magical journey in a path that could only have been a massive arc--a tour of a half-full parking lot, if you will. I believe it was nothing short of a miracle that my baby found its way through an obstacle course of cars, trucks, SUVs, shopping carts, and huge light posts to its safe little perch atop the curb and stop sign at the back of the parking lot.

An extremely accurate artist's rendering of the scene of the miracle. Okay, so the last six cars this shows it evading weren't there, but the rest is pretty accurate as I recall. Red rectangle = my car. White rectangles = other cars.

As far as I could tell, the Civic defied all odds and navigated the challenge with only a single scratch (from the stop sign). It was the first noticeable body damage she sustained that I remember and now it blends in nicely with the missing passenger side mirror, several layers of dirt, leaky trunk, and faded, peeling paint. You never like to see something like this happen to your fairly new vehicle, but honestly, the stop sign damage actually prevented something more severe (hitting the light post) and hitting another car would have been infinitely worse. I counted myself lucky and got the heck out of Dodge.

Sadly, this would not be the last ridiculous adventure the '97 Honda Civic would have (and hopefully she continues to have them for a while longer), but I'll try to save some of the others for another post. Perhaps I'll dig up another when Adrienne threatens to quit reading again.