AtomicInternet Archived News

Lastnight Lisa and I went to see the Waterford fireworks at Maceday lake after a short round of Disc golf. By pure dumb luck we managed to park right next to where they were launching the fireworks. So close in fact that my car was parked right next to the fireline. As we got settled, a beat up pickup truck flew into the space between my Cougar and the no-parking sign, breaking through the fireline tape in the process. My sphincter clenched as I thought of my car being hit, or burning from the various sparklers the 8 hick kids in the back were now waving near the hood of my car. Lisa jerked as her maternal instinct kicked in, but I held her back. I told her how I had burned a BoohBah with some hicks just last weekend, how my hick friend Keith in Mississippi had recently shot a bird while I was on the phone with him, and that Duane was becoming an honorary hick. I was convinced my "faggoty girl car" reeked of hick smell from my proximity to my friends and my recent travels to Brighton and Howell. I knew the toothless people in the pickup would pass my car off as just another car on blocks abandoned by the side of the road. The fireworks commenced shortly afterwards and we imitated "The Smurfs" with plenty of ooo's and ahhh's. The hick truck took off after the disappointing grand finale most likely to make moonshine and pass out somewhere. We were almost home when I felt a wobble in the rear end (the cars, not mine) and pulled over fearing sheered lugs. I breathed a sigh of relief as I saw it was only a flat tire and had Lisa time me as I changed it. Today I brought the tire to a firestone dealer ranting and raving about a failed sidewall belt to which he replied "somebody knifed your tire, man." The knowledge that the hick truck people had slashed my tire rushed in and I felt betrayed by the hick community. The tire guy took pity on me and offered to replace my $120 tire if I purchased $60 worth of road hazard warranty. He also told me that categorizing a group of people based on their appearance or lifestyle was called stereotyping, and was not a reliable method of predicting behavior or actions of individuals believed to belong to this group. I knew he was right, and took the whole incident as a life lesson: when a hick approaches your girl car, pull out a firearm and aim for his head, that's the only way to stop them.