A Bright Pink Pole and a Load of Bikes

My family does not believe I possess the required skills to drive in reverse. Perhaps they are correct.

For vacation one year, we met Dale's parents at a lake. It was one of our favorite places to RV camp, fish, and ride bikes. After a wonderful week of good fun and great food (Dale's mom is an AMAZING cook), we loaded the 5 bikes on the bike rack and pointed our minivan in the direction of home. As a special treat to the boys, we planned to stop in a little college town to eat at one of our favorite ice cream/old fashioned burger places. Braum's refuses to expand beyond a 300 mile radius of their dairy, even though I've begged them to. Since we do not live within that sacred zone, we have to take advantage of opportunities when they present themselves. We've even been known to load up on a Saturday, drive the 90 miles from our house to our nearest Braum's to eat lunch, and then drive right back home. No, I'm not kidding.

So, I was driving on that Sunday afternoon when we arrived in a college town about 120 miles from home. When we pulled into the Braum's parking lot, we pretty much had the place to ourselves. In fact, it seemed we had the whole town to ourselves (this was before Fall semester started). Had there been a tumbleweed blowing down the street with a lonesome train whistle in the background, I would not have been surprised.

As I pulled into the parking lot, my wonderful husband uttered the now most feared words in our family: "Megan, love of my life and wonderful mother to my children, go ahead and back into a parking space." (He might not have said the love of my life and wonderful mother stuff, but this is my blog. So, yeah.)

The light poles at Braum's are painted a bright pink. I'm not certain, but I think there was only one light pole in the whole parking lot. I found it. And learned something new. When you back a minivan into a light pole, and you just happen to have 5 bikes on the bike rack, the back window can only take so much of that kind of force. And then it explodes. Everywhere.

No one was hurt, thank God. Dale went into Braum's, told them what happened, asked them to call the police, picked up a broom and dustpan, and came back outside. Have I mentioned that he is the most calm person I know? And that his wife is not so calm? The very nice police officer is probably still telling the story of the nervous, chatty woman who answered all his questions before he asked and to whom he finally had to suggest that she sit down on the curb and take a breath.

The funny thing was when we looked up and saw that there were actually people in this town. I have no idea where they had been hiding, but when word got around that some dumb woman had pushed a load of bikes through a van window, they came crawling out of the woodwork. Not that I blame them. I would have come out to see it myself.

We headed home, with Dale driving, of course. I sat in the back seat, praying that no stray and deadly objects would defy physics and come flying through the opening formerly known as the rear window. I am happy to report that we made it home with no further incidents.

However, something quite odd happened once we got home. Slowly, but rather steadily, people dropped by our house to see what I had done to the van. When we were in the small town, I was pretty sure the operator from Mayberry was the one who spread the word. Once we were home, in an active suburb of a thriving metropolitan area, I was mystified as to how news spread so quickly. Apparently, stupidity attracts onlookers.

And even now, years after the dreaded bright pink pole incident, my boys still voice concern when I put the van in reverse. And then they stand around to watch what happens.