While there is a rather lengthy list of activities one should never participate in with their male “significant other”… we are going to forego the obvious and move on to the two that flash to mind faster than lightening. Holding a flashlight while he works and the Holy Grail of all No’s…. Allowing him to tow you or forcing you to tow him with some sort of device in a disabled vehicle.
Ladies, this advice is free for the taking, but I know all too well …most of you won’t. That’s on you. Yes, my wise women, I have less than willingly participated in both-more than once. I am a slow learner and they are NEVER going to go well.
Men find that some of what they deem the most urgent things in life must be accomplished at night or in the absence of lighgt. Examples might include, locating a frozen water line, visualizing damage to a vehicle caused by a deer AND… the King of them all… hooking up to tow a vehicle to a disabled one.
Being towed, holds the unwavering Grand Prize of my “Least Likely to Do Again” recommendations. I was subjected to this activity way too young, and more than once, because I married a mechanic. Participating in this event requires mental telepathy and a grasp of the concept of towing. This telepathy allegedly takes place between yourself and your significant other’s brains.
I, for one, do not possess the said telepathic ability. The concept goes something like this. Your car (never his or do not even participate in this in any way…no matter what) or a family member’s car breaks down. Men are men, and for the most part, are problem solvers. A broken down car triggers a firmly implanted DNA strand and directs the man (not sure if it comes in the form of actual words or just thoughts) “Lets tow it, it’s not that far.” And so your fate begins.
The concept is to connect an operational motor vehicle (always HIS truck) to the said disabled vehicle with some type of device like a chain, rope or strap. As a woman, you have a micro second to make the choice be-hind Door One or Door Two …neither is a good. That choice is “Tower” or “Towee”. For the record, I have been subjected to both, more than once and… let’s just say, it’s not a skill you suddenly master, like riding a bike.
The requirement for this type of co-ed interaction typically occurs in the absence of two things … daylight and other males. The absence of daylight brings with it the neces-sity for the before mentioned flashlight.
You will be asked to produce it. No worries, you won’t recall where you put it last time “you had it”, or where to aim it. At the vehicle, at the rope, at the fixation location or at one of the two vehicles? Just guess. They are ALL wrong. You will be blinding him even if it you aim it at the ground. Men are born possessing the knowledge of the lo-cation of the most sturdy point of a vehicle to make the said connection and can do it rapidly. Two things will go very wrong, very quickly here … no matter what option you selected.
If you opted for the prize behind Door One, Congratulations, you are now the “Tower” and behind the wheel of HIS truck (for God’s sake don’t touch the seat settings at this point… or ever). The stark instant re-alization you will be towing a two ton steel object on wheels with the only instruction being, “I am the brakes, Go,” seems surreal. Go where? Go How fast? Go How far? Is grim at best.
So… you drop it in gear. At this point, you are not yet fully aware of what the expecta-tions are of you and it’s far too late to choose Door Two.
You now find yourself at a second Door One or Door Two option. Again, neither are good choices. Gas it hard or pull out easily with said disabled vehicle housing your sig-nificant other attached.
I always go with Door One. So, I throw it in drive and give myself whiplash jerking the slack out of the towing mechanism. And…We are off, woman in front, man closing in fast in back but keeping the pace. About the time you feel you have rounded a proverbial success corner and considered opening your own women-owned towing company, you hear something. Sounds of what you know to be a loud string of familiar profanities rise above the engine’s roar. Only this time, you also catch the glimpse of what appears to be waving of arms in the rear view mirror.
While you aren’t blessed with telepathy, you clearly hear the words “slack” above several “f-bombs.” Slack is a concept foreign to you as you slow, heading down a steep hill as you strive to not lose your man and the vehicle attached to you.
Boom! There it is again, whiplash number two. Again, about the time you level out at a constant speed and become semi-confident. It is only then that you become abundantly aware of the fact you now have to stop for a car in front of you to turn.
You quickly stomp your brakes. BOOM! Whiplash to the nth degree- as you hear your neck pop and feel what you swear is a train impacting your vehicle in the rear. Again, you see some movement in your side mirror with the familiar sounds again erupt-ing.
It is only then that you realize it is your male counterpart approaching your door very rapidly and saying something to the effect of “Get your rear out and get it in the car that just smashed my bumper, Now, you are the brakes”.
Wait, I didn’t choose Door Two, yet some-how I will get the full effect of that option too. You get in and being smart and all-you know this rig needs to be in neutral and here we go. This time you are better prepared as he yanks the slack out and jerks you across the highway, down the gravel road and into the yard as you are smart enough to know you are the brakes. So, you hit those bad boys. It will always be 300 feet early just to be safe. Nope that’s wrong too, oh well. Jump out, slam the door act like you are crying and run to the bathroom, lock the door and splash water on your face to ensure your mascara is effectively flowing. Do it well. When he comes in 30 minutes later, be certain he sees your face and don’t hesitate to let him know you just put the brakes on ever being his brakes again.
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