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Dissed by the Old Man before/after Saw father pulling out of a hardware store last week. He was in his new pick-up truck, a toyota tundra that he's all proud of. [ending a sentence with a prepostion...phfttyiaaaah] And I decide to wave at him. I'm stopped at a stoplight. So I wave. And I wave. And I wave. Each time getting a little more vigorous. I mean, I'm right in front of him. I keep waving. Nothing. I end up holding up traffic. Its stacked up behind me, nobody honking or saying anything. This is the middle of the day, it snakes back behind me a ways. I keep waving. Nothing. And then he pulls out into traffic and goes the other way, without a hint of recognition. Dammit. Dissed by the Old Man. AGAIN. Breifly I thought about flipping him off everytime I see him on the road, but I think THEN he'd notice, and his feelings would be hurt. But yeah, I have a track record of being dissed on recognition in the road by father. Something like every time I've ever seen him on the road since age sixteen. The most memorable time came when I was sixteen or seventeen. I was driving this baby blue 64' pontiac tempest. We just got it, rescued it from someone's barn, everything still worked, it was crazy. Smelled bad, but it was definitely something you'd notice on the road. The electrical battery thing hadn't been entirely worked out. There was a short between the wires of the headlights, and somehow this drained the battery. I noticed this one cold winter's night heading towards basketball practice on the far side of town as the headlights flickered, as had been happening, and the car flat out died. It rolled a surprising way, and well, if you've never been in a car that has just flat out died on you, you pretty much notice how far it will roll, because you look for the best place to stop, and you hope to hell that you make it there. So I creeped to a stop at an intersection, not where I wanted to be, especially in a car that had electrical issues, meaning no hazard lights. I really wanted to make the only parking lot reachable, but it just didn't have the roll. Yeah, frustrating. Like the universe is just oiling up that big black dildo it grabbed out of the trash with some vaseline and is looking at you with arched eyebrows, like, "Now?" as your car creaks down the road at one mile an hour. You know its coming, but that doesn't help things at all. Hmmm. Well, I'll let that reference lay. And, going to basketball practice, I don't have a dime. No change on my person, no money, nothing. And really, there isn't any phones around whatsoever, on this bitter cold, some would say crisp, winter's night. I cursed and stood behind my car, waving people around, not sure what to do. I'm sixteen, I don't know shit about shit, but think I have the universe cornered, you know? I reflect that experiences like this will be good to reinforce my humility, but damn, do I need my humility reinforced all the time? I still think of that a lot. Anyway, people pulled around, some stopped behind me, whatever, many shouted at me to put on my hazards, which, in a baby blue 1964 pontiac tempest isn't an apparent thing, and having electrical problems, make it impossible. Notice I mention the strange make and color of my car. Because I'm sitting befuddled and hopeless behind the wheel, cursing, just with no clue what to do, like a boob. And father rolls up and by in his pickup truck. I shout his name, try to honk the horn. The light changed just as he pulled up. I get out of the car. I wave both arms, and holler at the top of my voice, his name. Nothing. Not a hint of recognition. I chase after him, runnning like a crazy person through the light, down the middle of the street, waving both arms, screaming...SCREAMING his name. Nada. Not a goddam thing. I stood there, hoping for some look in the rearview mirror, holding up traffic, horns blare, while I howled. Fuckin' nothin'. Dissed by the Old Man. Cocksucker. Eventually the police pulled up, some guys helped me push it into a parking lot across the intersection while the cop held up traffic. He called a tow truck, and although I didn't have any money, the dispatcher knew my dad, or knew of him, so they gave me a tow home. Confronted later with the evidence, father was remarkably unrepentant. I mean, its bad enough that you don't notice a crazy person shouting your name and flailing his arms chasing you through an intersection. But I kinda' think its worse when its your son, stalled at the light, in the oddly colored classic car you just bought, flailing his arms and chasing you through the light shouting your name, making a ruckus. "I just kinda' zone out, Arg," he said later on,"I kind of blink, and I'm at my destination." Yeah. I noticed. And just last week, I noticed yet again. Soon I shall not live in the area, and will be spared the embarassment of being publicly denied by my progenator.
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