The Red Car, Part 1

This is a story that I'm going to tell on stage some day... that is to say, tell again some day. A few months after I started performing comedy, I told this story to a friend while we were waiting for the train. She laughed and seemed to enjoy the story quite a bit. So, emboldened by her response, I decided to tell the story one night down at Coffee Haven in Long Beach. It tanked. I tanked with it. Something like that. I thought the audience would get enjoyment just from hearing the events— I didn't realize that I also needed to tell the story.

There are only a few people in this world who know the events of this story and probably only one of them will ever read this blog. If I get any events wrong and you are one of those people, please feel free to correct me in the comments section.

In 1970 my father returned from Vietnam. We— my mother, my brother, and I— had been living in Sacramento while he was serving a one-year tour of duty in Vietnam with the Air Force. Immediately upon his returning, our newly reunited family packed up and moved to New Jersey. (We lived in New Jersey for 8 years. Don't ask me which offramp.) Very nearly as soon as we got there, my father purchased a red MG for himself. Quickly dubbed "the red car", that car stayed with my father for decades. It was the car in which I learned to drive stick in late '79 or early '80. (A story of its own.)

As near as I can tell the night in question must have been late Spring or early Summer. It was a pleasant evening, and the crops in the farm fields were high enough to hide anything lying on the ground. That fact will figure into the story later on. Additionally, I'm going to guess the year was 1971 or 1972 because none of us were very familiar with the back roads at the time. This too will figure into the story. (The other reason I'm guessing a very early year is because both my brother and I still fit into the back seat of the red car. I say "seat" but it was really just a small hard ledge.)

It had rained shortly before the evening we all got into the red car for a drive. We have always been a driving family and frequently enjoyed piling into the family car for a cruise down new roads. As I said, this was a pleasant evening, an hour or so before sunset. The world around us was damp from recent rain. Adventure called out to my parents so we loaded ourselves into the red car for a drive. We were in fact so complete that our family dog was curled up under my Mom's feet. (Mitzi was a toy pomeranian, and I dare say she was small by toy pomeranian standards.)

We lived in off-base housing, and as soon as you left the housing area, you were in rural New Jersey. We were surrounded by farms and the occasional forest. (Maybe someday I'll talk about the tiny Stephen King-esque graveyard we discovered in the middle of a dark forest.) Most people only the know the jokes about New Jersey and never learn how rural the state is— or at least was.

So off we zoom in our flashy red English sports car— a family of four and small dog all tucked into their places!

In my memory Rahilly Road is less than a mile from the back side of the housing area. It's certainly a road that we learned and used many many times during our 8-year stay. But this was our first time on Rahilly Road. It's strange name and rural aspect called out to us as a road we could have an adventure on. So, off we shot down Rahilly Road!

Here's a bit of trivia about country roads: Country roads were very often built along the boundaries of adjoining properties. As such, they tend to follow the borders of these properties. For their part, rural properties, properties going back decades or centuries, tend to be formed along township and range lines. That is, lot lines tend to very rectilinear. Therefore, the roads built between them tend to be rectilinear as well.

Rahilly Road was no exception. Rahilly shot straight as an arrow ahead of us as my father stepped on the accelerator. The wind was rushing past us because naturally we had the top off the car. Yes, my father's MG was a convertible. The four (or five!) of us were thrilling to the racing engine and rushing wind. We were a family of speedsters roaring down Rahilly Road, and as far as we could see Rahilly stretched out in front of us.

Unfortunately, without any of us really seeming to notice, after a mile or so, Rahilly began to rise and we approached a point where the road ahead of us could not be seen. In mere moments we raced up this small peak in the road to see what lay beyond.

Now, recall I mentioned that country roads tend to be rectilinear. (And, admit it, you've never seen the word "rectilinear" used so much before in one story.) I would say the two properties of these types of roads are: they have long straight stretches punctuated by 90-degree corners. Many times these corners are intersections and the straight road continues on. Sometimes, however, they're just 90-degree turns. Rahilly, which must be the name of the god of Impetuousness in some culture, opted for the 90-degree turn... immediately on the other side of the rise in the road.

Now, you may ask, how does a British racing car going 50 or 60 miles an hour navigate an immediate 90-degree turn? Look to part two of this story for the answer to that question.

"Auto racing is boring except when one car is going at least 172 miles per hour upside down."— Dave Barry