Nobody wants to hear those words, but that’s what I heard tonight.
My son was taking the garbage down to the bottom of the driveway. He loaded it into the back of the pickup truck and the next thing i knew was my phone ringing and my hysterical 16 year old boy crying for me. i asked what happened and he kept saying, “i don’t know. hurry.”
I ran down, in my pajamas and crocs. There is my son sitting in the truck. door open. engine off. He’s crying and shaking. I look around, expecting to see an animal or a huge dent somewhere. There’s nothing. Then i look under the truck and there it is. The drive shaft. twisted. broken. hanging down. smelling bad.
“what is THAT?” i asked.
he said he couldn’t take his foot off the brake. I said to put it in park but he said it was. the emergency brake was on too and the keys were out, but if he let go of the brake, the truck was going to slide back down the driveway, into the road, and hit the guard rail. (we’re on a curve on a mountain road).
I slid in next to him and he slid out while I kept my foot on the brake. He looked and started crying more. he kept saying he didn’t do anything, he was just driving up slowly. so i calmed him down enough to help me, because I really didn’t know what to do, and he went and got straps to tow with, which he hooked up, then slid back in and kept his foot on the brake while I went and got my truck and hooked it up. then i was able to pull us both up our second driveway enough so that he could slowly let it back down and stop against a fallen tree we dragged into place ahead of time.
we went inside, with me being shaky and my normally super calm son being in tears.
we go inside and I head straight for the xanax, and he heads straight for the cookies i made. apparently, nothing ruins his appetite.