The story about the air conditioner

When I was 17, I was a junior in high school and I had just gotten my driver's license. I could only drive automatic transmission cars and my mom had a stick. I was stupid and so were my friends. We drank a little when we could get a hold of it, but we usually just stuck to a plant of an illegal variety.

They (my family) all decided to go on vacation in July and I couldn't go because of work.

Great idea, folks. Leave a 17 year old home alone for 2 weeks.

They took my car because it was the biggest and most reliable. That left me with 2 means of transportation--a stick shift car and a GIANT work truck painted the same color as a school bus.

THIS COLOR.

I decided to take a crash course in stick-shift driving. Then the car broke. Like 2 days after I learned to drive it.

So I was forced to drive this god-awful, huge, bright, beat-up truck around town. My friends thought it was great. "Let's take a ride in the big yellow truck" and the sort. I fucking HATED driving this damn thing. There is nothing worse than having MORE attention drawn to you when you're an awkward, socially inept high schooler. Blech.

Of course my house was the hangout place those 2 weeks since my parents were out of town. We had gotten a hold of some of the afforementioned illegal plant and made a smoking device out of an empty beer can (just ask--I could teach a class on it). Then we got the great idea to actually leave the house.

I tell ya, the brillance could have put a diamond to shame.

"Let's take the big yellow truck!!!!!"

This sounds great when you're high, of course.

So we take it. I am laughing and looking in the mirrors making sure I am not backing over any of my friends, down the long skinny driveway, and I manage to get the truck OVER the garden barriers, THROUGH the garden, and INTO the air conditioning unit that sits on the side of the house.

You know what I'm talking about--that big-ass metal box that keeps your house comfy in the summer.

I HIT IT WITH A TRUCK.

I guess it's a good thing we were high, cause if we weren't, I'm positive oneof us would have had an actual heart attack right there in the driveway.
Picture 3 teenaged girls outside in the middle of July, high as hell, trying to set an air conditioning unit upright onto cinderblock mounts in a garden on the side of a house.

Those damn things are HEAVY! We got it back into place, but all of those little metal sheets that make up the outside were dented and bent and smashed--it LOOKED like it got hit with a truck.

Fast forward to 3 hours later, I get home, and the house was HOT AS HELL. I'm talking, like, 90 degrees INSIDE. That is just not going to work for a city-girl. Yeah, I'm a city-girl. Sue me.

I did the only thing I knew to do. I called mom and dad on vacation. The conversation went as follows:

Me: "So the air conditioner broke today. It's really hot in here. What should I do?"

M&D: "Well go down in the basement and unplug XYZ and restart ABC and it should work"

AND IT FUCKING WORKS! HAHAHAHAHA!

They gave me instructions based on what they do when the air just flips out sometimes. I managed to get it running again.

From that day forth, my and AC have had a special bond. No one has ever said ANYTHING about the condition of the outdoor unit. The truck is long gone. And I do not drive trucks when I'm high.

Lesson learned.