When I talk about Mom, this story comes up (usually by me). Although it wasn’t funny at the time, it’s hysterical now. If you haven’t heard this story, get ready for a wild ride!
It was the early 80s. I was about 8 years old when my parents gave me a go-kart for Christmas. It was red with a confederate flag. The seat cover was white with a wide blue stripe. It had a 5 horsepower engine on the back of it.
I remember my parents made a mini-scavenger hunt out of it. I opened a box that contained a piece of paper with a clue typed on it. That clue led me to a second piece of paper with another clue on it. The second clue led me to the front door. When I opened the door, there was there was the go-kart.
A little known fact about the go-kart is the fact that I wasn’t the first one to drive it-Dad was. It was about three in the morning when we opened presents that day. Dad started it up and did doughnuts around Mom’s dogwood tree she had planted a year or two before. Needless to say, she wasn’t happy. After doing doughnuts, Dad drove it up and down the street. The neighbor across the street, who was retired from the navy, asked if he could drive it. At that point, he and Dad took turns driving it down the street!
We went to Granny’s house later that day, who lived about 10 miles outside of Blountstown, FL. She lived off of a dirt road, and when we got there, I told Dad I wanted to drive the go-kart down the dirt road. He reluctantly agreed.
Dad pulled over by the dirt road and got the go-kart out of the back of the truck. He had a leather belt with holes the entire length of it that I used for a seatbelt. He put me in the seat, then he put the belt around me and the back of the seat. He governed the engine down then started it.
I drove down the dirt road with Dad driving the truck behind me. He parked behind Granny’s car. The plan was for me to park the go-kart near the steps that led to the front port. However, that plan went in the trash when I forgot to hit the brakes!
While I was driving down the front yard, Mom was screaming at me to stop. I couldn’t hear her because of the engine running. She then makes the heroic decision to run over to where I was and grabbed the go-kart while it was still in motion. I looked at her as if to say, “What in the world are you doing?” She was giving me the same look.
I drug her across the front yard barreling toward the front porch. I approached a row of concrete blocks which bordered Granny’s flowerbed. I went over the blocks into the flowerbed and hit the front porch so hard that Dad had to crawl under the house to put the support block back in place! After shutting the engine down, he said, “Son, do you know what a brake is?”
I’m writing this while Mom is suffering from late-stage dementia and approaching end-stage dementia. How can I write such a funny story? Part of accepting the fact that she’s going to die of this horrible disease is remembering the good times. It doesn’t make it easier, but it is a way of celebrating her life, especially since I know where she’s going.