I can be lazy sometimes. I was so excited to get my license before my 16th birthday. But my birthday came and went, the red Honda sat in front of the house, and I still relied on Mike Domson to drive.
About a month later, I finally got my act together and signed up for driver's ed at Gonzaga. The instructor was Mr. Wright, a name that gave him ample opportunity to explain, "I'm never wrong."
He had a hard time winning over the young "men" in the class. We were jackasses. I was big into fireballs at the time; I would fill up my mouth with butane and send it up in the air, flaming, when he turned away.
When Mr. Wright was challenged, he had a favorite reply: "Bring in the manual that says that, and I'll eat it." Any time someone would argue the finer points of traffic law, "Bring in the manual and I'll eat it."
Nat Evans had a big, old pickup truck. Nat Evans was a big, old pickup truck. His slow country drawl hinted at the fact that he commuted to school. I'm not sure where he lived, but I know he had picked drug-laden mushrooms from cow pies near his house.
One day we learned about head restraints on car seats. See, it's a big misconception that they're "head rests." They're head restraints, placed there to protect you in case you get rear-ended. In fact, they became mandatory in 1973, I believe.
However, Nat's truck was from 1976 and the bench seat had no head restraints - a legal impossibility. Nat raised his hand.
"My truck has a bench seat in the front and it has no head restraints on it. It's from 1976."
"It's not from 1976," said Mr. Wright.
"No, it is . . it's definitely from 1976."
"Then it's not the original seat," insisted Mr Wright.
"No, we've had the truck the whole time. We never replaced the seats or anything," said Nat.
"Well, it's not from 1976," continued Mr. Wright, "it would be illegal for the manufacturer to make seats like that."
I raised my hand.
"If Nat brings the seat to class, will you eat it?"