by Curry
May 4th, 2006


"Jesus! What? What's going on?"

Jim and I were driving around in my car one night, when he started to freak out for no apparent reason.


"Christ, fine." I pulled the car over onto the shoulder. We were on some highway in the middle of nowhere in Iowa. "What is wrong with you?"

"LOOK! UP THERE!" He pointed up in the sky. "It's a UFO!"

"You motherfucker. That's an airplane." I put the car in drive.

"NO WAAAAAAAAAAY. Look at the...uh...hmm. You know, that could be a plane. Well...it looked pretty weird, at first."

"I couldn't possibly hate you more." I gave the car a little gas, and the passenger side of the car dropped two feet. Apparently what I thought was the shoulder of the highway was only half shoulder. The rest was just compacted snow in the ditch. I tried fruitlessly to rock the car out of the position I was in, but it was no good. I was half on the road, half in the ditch.

"You. Son. Of. A. Bitch. Get the hell out of here and push on the car," I told him. He protested mildly, then finally got out and pushed. It did no good at all. He got back in.

"We need to dig the snow out from under the tires," he said.

"Sort of. YOU need to dig it out while I sit in here in the warm." He asked if he could at least borrow my gloves, but I refused. He got out and dug in the snow with his bare hands for about five minutes. Then he pushed while I tried to drive some more, but it did no good. He got back in.

"What's all over your face?" I asked him. He looked in the mirror.

"It's your tire." My tire was rubbing against the snow, and apparently melting. Jim's face and clothes were splattered with small pieces of molten tire.

"We need to put something under there," he suggested while scraping the tire-meltings from his glasses. Fortunately, we had a stolen roadsign in the trunk. We thought this would be an excellent thing to jam under the tire for traction. Apparently we were too retarded to realize the most likely outcome was that my car would shoot the sign directly through Jim.

Somehow, instead of the most likely outcome, the sign was tossed harmlessly aside while I hammered the gas and Jim pushed weakly on my trunk.

A passing motorist drove by, and asked if we needed help. "Yes," I told him. "My friend saw a UFO, so we had to pull over." The dude got out of his car and stared at mine for a while. He told Jim which direction to push, and offered other totally useless advice. Eventually, some woman pulled up in a truck.

The unhelpful guy said, "I bet this guy here has a rope or something in his truck."

From back behind my car (he was back to shoveling snow with his bare hands), Jim said "That's a lady."

The truck had originally driven passed us, and was about 150 yards away, making a U-turn. Unhelpful dude said, "Yeah, this guy is coming back to help. I sure hope he has a rope."

Jim said, louder, in a bizarre voice, "That's a lady!"

The guy apparently could not only not help, but could not hear. "Here he comes. He'll pull you out."

"That's a laaaadyyyyyyyyyyy!"

The lady did not, unfortunately, have a rope. She did somehow have the driving skill to get my car moving forward. She was still half in the ditch, half in the road, but now she was going forward, riding the edge of the highway like a rail. I was standing in the ditch, a little bit ahead of the car. As she drove by me, I leapt at my fender and body-checked the car back onto the road. Thank yous were issued, and we climbed back into the car and drove on.

"You know," Jim said. "I'm thinking back on it, and I don't think that was a plane. I think we really saw something...otherworldly."

"You motherfucker."