Coming to you from Orange County, California. This is Jim Rockford. At the tone, leave your name and message. I'll get back to you. Hey, this is Let's Get Verified, and we have an important message about your Google business listing. Your listing does not appear to be properly verified or optimized on Google. Call us back so we can get this fixed. It's Griddle Cakes Radio. Welcome to Griddle Cakes Radio, Season 19, griddle soda number one. I'm your host, Ron.
On today's Griddle Soda, I have a story for you called A Bad Week. Good morning, good morning, good morning. I hope this podcast finds you happy and healthy. Last year, I introduced a new series called Griddle Cage Radio Remix, where I dust off, spruce up, and re-record an old story. Today, we're revisiting a story that I first released more than 18 years ago.
If you're new to the show, the story is new to you. If you're a longtime listener, well, you get to hear the story again. Sort of like rereading a favorite book or re-watching an old movie. And so, without further ado... Here's my second Griddle Cakes Radio remix. Ever had a day that starts badly and just spirals downward? Now imagine stringing a few of those days together. Have you ever had a week like that? This is a story about one such week that occurred more than 40 years ago.
It was a beautiful Sunday afternoon. I was a college student driving my beat-up 1972 Plymouth Scamp down Shawsheen Street. As I approached a long stretch of road, something caught my eye. A dark object. approximately the size of a baseball, which appeared to be floating lazily about four feet in the air. Before I knew what was happening, the object accelerated toward me, hitting my windshield with a thud.
My once clear windshield now contained a three-inch circle of pulverized safety glass with long random cracks that radiated outward to the edges. My windshield was a total loss. I turned my head to see... Two very frightened little boys, probably no older than ten years old, running away. It all made sense now. The little darlings had taken out my windshield with a rock.
Luckily, the car was still drivable as the spider web of crackled glass was closer to the passenger side. But even so, it needed to be replaced. My first thought was to replace the glass myself. The theory being that I'd save myself some money by not going through the insurance company. But what I didn't know at the time, essentially because I was a dumb kid, was that my insurance company not only covered glass...
But replacement had no impact on premiums. I called my friend Michael, who was finishing his senior year at the local vocational school. His focus? Auto repair. He assured me that replacing the windshield was easy. All I had to do was find one and give him a call. I found one on Monday for a Tuesday installation. I remember how fun it was to remove the old windshield. We both sat in the front seat, planted our feet on the windshield.
and pushed. It was surprisingly easy. Then we cleaned broken glass from the gasket, reinstalled it into the window frame, and lifted the new windshield. We didn't have any special tools like... suction handles or anything. All we had were our hands that guided the window carefully toward the awaiting gasket. Unfortunately, it didn't seat correctly, so we pulled it back and tried a second time.
Although the second fit was much better, it still wasn't right. So we tried once more. This time, however, as we pressed the glass into the gasket, we heard a nauseating sound. I'd broken my second windshield. in as many days. And so, it was another trip to the junkyard on Wednesday for a new attempt on Thursday. You could feel the tension as we moved the third windshield into place.
It's not right, Michael said. We got to try again. Despite my doubts, I deferred to the expert. And although the second attempt, or the fifth, depending on how you're counting, was the best of them... Michael still wasn't satisfied. I think we've almost got it. The guy financing the operation needed one more piece of information. Will this window fall out? I asked. Michael chuckled.
No, of course not. It's in there pretty good. Will it leak? I asked. Probably like a sieve, he said. Every guy listening to the show knows what I'm thinking at this moment. I was having a Tim the Toolman moment and went on a hunt for the mother of all waterproofing. I searched my dad's garage until I found the answer to my prayers, a five-gallon drum of silicone rubber.
We slathered the translucent goop generously over both the gasket and the window frame. The stench was incredible but there was no way this windshield was ever going to leak. The next morning, Friday, I used a box cutter to trim the excess silicone rubber from the edges and stood back to admire my work. It was ugly as sin, but I didn't care. This was an example where function...
was more important than form. I attended classes that morning and went to work in the afternoon. With less than a half hour between me and the weekend, it happened. Something so incredible, you wouldn't believe it. Actually, you shouldn't believe it. No, really, I'm telling you right now, if I were you, I wouldn't believe me. All right, let's try this.
If we were screenwriters brainstorming on how to make a character's bad week become even worse, what cliche physical comedy gag would you inflict upon him? Did you guess it? I split my pants. A tear straight up the back along the center seam. While I can laugh now, it wasn't a laughing matter at the time. You see, as the youngest technician in the lab, I was an easy target. To be fair, the others didn't pick on me in particular. They picked on everyone.
There was just no way I was letting these dudes know that I had a major breeze in my backyard. And so my brain went into overdrive. All I needed to do was buy a little time. If I could keep my secret for a measly half hour, I could remain seated until everyone left, then walk briskly to my car. The clock struck five, the guys left, and I bolted to the parking lot.
I had plans to meet friends that evening and needed some cash, so I stopped at the bank. Luckily, it had a drive-thru lane so I could remain seated during the transaction. I put my paycheck, deposit slip, and driver's license into a tube that was magically propelled under the asphalt and into the hands of a teller, who then used it to send some cash back. What I didn't know at the time...
But I did, as I changed into less breezy jeans, was that my license hadn't returned. I drove as fast as I could to the bank, only to find it closed. What else can go wrong, I thought. Actually, the situation was worse than driving without a license. In Massachusetts, your automobile inspection sticker is attached to the inside of your windshield.
So essentially, I was breaking two laws, driving with neither a license or an inspection sticker. I wasn't far from Chris's house, so I drove there, figuring that I could ride with him. We met our friends, had a great time, and got back to his house at about midnight. The rest of the plan was simple. All I had to do was drive home, pick up my license on Saturday morning,
and stopped by the local Sunoco station to get an inspection sticker. I turned left onto Route 125 in Andover and headed for Interstate 93. About a half mile from the on-ramp, I spotted two automobiles barreling toward the intersection to my right. Since both stopped, I paid no attention. But just as I approached the on-ramp, one of the cars blew by my left side.
The breeze rocking my car back and forth. What I didn't know at the time was that the two cars were racing. And while the first one got by me, the second wasn't so fortunate. The right side of his bumper caught my left rear quarter panel. Since I was actively turning left and he was heading straight, his bumper continued to dig a deeper crease into my car until our two front tires locked.
My car lurched a few feet to the right and stopped. Mario Andretti's car went into an uncontrollable skid, spinning two and a half times before coming to rest on the right-hand shoulder, his headlights facing me. my blood boiled unable to open my front door i had to climb across the front seat to exit on the passenger side then i stomped my way to the vehicle that almost killed me that's when i heard the screaming
I found two boys in the front seat and their terrified dates in the back seat. My anger softened a little as the boys helped the girls. Fortunately, no physical injuries occurred. though both shame and second-hand embarrassment were in ample supply. Are you all right? I asked, my voice mixed with concern and anger. Yes, the young driver answered. Are you?
Yes, I am, I said, before uttering one of the strangest sentences that has ever come out of my mouth. You better pray to God that my windshield isn't broken. All four of the passengers stared at me. probably wondering if they'd just crashed into a serial killer. I returned to my car to survey the damage. The driver's side looked as if it had been opened by a dull can opener.
the front rim had buckled under the impact leaving the tire in tatters a total loss on both counts that's when the boys approached cautiously i don't know if it was guilt my bizarre outburst or a combination of the two but one of the boys asked me to open my trunk. Before I knew it, they'd removed the spare and were installing it on my car. I stood there contemplating the ending of a not-so-perfect week.
I'd gone through three windshields and a pair of pants. My wrecked car was being tended to by the very boys who totaled her, and to top it all off, the car had no inspection sticker, and I was driving without a license. Just when I thought that it couldn't get any worse, the police arrived. Well, that's it. Griddle Soad S19-001 is in the can. The music on this Griddle Soad was licensed from Audio.com. That's audio with two I's. In order of appearance are Reasons to be Suspicious, The Pied Pied.
We have links to Morris in the show notes. If you're a long-time listener, thank you. You're the reason that I keep producing this show. And if you're hearing us for the first time... please check out our archives, where we have over a hundred stories for you to listen to. And I love to hear from listeners. Did you like this griddle, Soad? What did the story mean to you?
Let me know by either sending an email to griddlecakes at gmail.com or by leaving a review of the show. Bye for now, and we'll catch you next time.