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Friday, August 26, 2005 Why I call her my best friend or Why do I call her my best friend? I have known Whistler71 aka Stomper for about 20 years. She was my first drunk (and I mean DRUNK). Thanks, Kimmie for leading me down the alcoholic path at such a tender age. She was my first smoke and I still smoke today. Once again, thanks. She was my first major car wreck. She was my first and only car fire. Yes, the car was on fire. Try explaining that to your parents. Uh, we totally lied to you guys. Then proceeded to drive to a town a hour away, party our asses off and drive home in the wee hours of the morning. All of the sudden flames were shooting out from under the hood. We pulled off the road. Found the owners manual began to read. HMMMMMM..........in case of fire remove yourself from vehicle and run like hell! Now you have to understand this happened in the middle of the Texas panhandle and when they say wide open spaces they are not fucking around. We gather ourselves and decide to walk to the nearest house. At this time of the morning you really do have a GOOD chance of getting shot and NO we did not have cell phones and even if we did we would have had no signal. WIDE OPEN SPACES!! Well, get to the house and of course they have two or three dogs that appear to be Cujos offspring. We are standing there as dumbfounded as only teenagers can be when we see the faint glimmer of headlights. What should we do? It could be the people that are trying to kidnap and kill me that Daddy keeps talking about. We decide to take our chances and as the vehicle blows past us at like a 100 mph we briefly wave the 0wners manual through the air. The vehicle stops and comes back to get us. So it turns out to be a man that knows our families and had a late or early morning flight.......which ever the case. We got into the vehicle. He then bitched us out all the way home for being two females on that road in the middle of the night....early morning (whatever) I can't remember what the exact punishment was. I am sure it involved grounding and an ass beating. Anyway, the car was repaired. Yes, it was repairable. Only for us to roll it 2 1/2 times through an irrigation ditch. Which by the way, was not our fault. I do not care what the fucking pig said. So this is just a little insight into our teenage years and it only gets worse. 
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