I wasn’t planning on publishing another RDOs Amigos entry today but with my family being my family, something interesting happened and it would be criminal for me to not share.
This morning we were planning on going out to see my grandfather for Easter. Nothing overtly noteworthy, however, when we reached my parents car in the car park, we discovered that someone had parked perpendicular to theirs. Needless to say, we were not happy. I mean, we had another vehicular option but on principle, we were cranky.
Talk of idiocy, a decay of human decency and calling a tow truck floated around the other car on the trip out to my pop’s house. Nothing, however, was as controversial as the “kind” nature of my father’s note. Mum deeming it too pleasant.
Upon arrival at my pop’s house, my mother waited the statutory three conversation topics (as to not appear rude) before launching into the tale of extreme betrayal played out in the car park. My grandfather, true to form, believed we should have emptied the tyres of air. My mother feeling vindicated, let the issue lie. Surely the car would be gone when we arrived home two hours later?
We were wrong.
At first glance, my Dad’s new note wasn’t as kind, but again, was not tough enough in my mother or my own eyes. However after reflection, the emotional blackmail hued note with lines such as “missing family Easter Functions” and “forced to catch a cab” would probably be more successful.
Let me take you four hours later by which time we had decided that if the car had not moved we would try lift it over so the car could shimmy it’s way out.
My brother arrived around 5:15pm and my Dad, now supportive of the idea, decided that if the car was still there…we try our luck at what is now known in my family as “car flippin’”.
My partner, Dad, brother and I placed ourselves either side of the car with my Mum and my sister-in-law making up the cheer squad. With knees bended, we heaved. Shit. Nothing.
“Too much suspension!”
“I’ll get a hernia!”
“I’m irritated, but not enough for back pain.”
My father, however, encouraged us.
Bounce is what we were lacking. Looking back I don’t know who’s idea it was, but almost by consensus, we decided to try bouncing and shoving the car across the ground on the third upward bounce. Success!! At this point, the thrill of the flip took over.
One, two, three…lift. Success!
Each trio of bounces went by and the car, slowly but surely, began to clear us a path. My Dad decided the perfect number of bounce / shoves for the emancipation of our car was ten.
By the sixth cycle, my partner was out, my mother in. Blisters appearing at the start of my fingers…I continued on for what I can only explain as family pride.
Cycles seven through ten were our most successful. I’m not sure if it was unknown family synchronicity, my mother’s brute strength or desperation on my brother and my part wanting out of this and back to the comfort of the lounge room for beer (in my case) and TV (in his case), but the car gave way enough for our freedom…and that of our car.
On the walk back to our townhouse we debated whether we did anything wrong. The moral decision of the group was no, it was only freeing up our own car and that no damage was done (we sound like psychopaths justifying a kill). I believe that my mother, although being less diplomatic, summed up the occasion the best…
“They should have thought about it, before they parked us in”.
Strong words from a surprisingly strong woman in a very small package.
And that was my RDO amigos!
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