Two Drivers, a Truck, and the Dentist

At the time of this story, my cousin, Denise and I were age 12, and well-known in our family for our outrageous antics.  Our mothers called us *”Heckle and Jeckle” and often said, “what one of us didn’t think of the other one would”.  Many crazy stories can be told of the two of the two of us, but this is one of my personal favorites.

One summer day stuck at my house and bored to tears, Denise and I went outside looking for something to get into – what we got into was the truck in the driveway belonging to my stepfather’s helper.  This guy must have known how bored we were – he thoughtfully, left the keys in the ignition!

Our plan was to take turns behind the wheel, but when we realized that the truck had a clutch, and I was the only one even remotely familiar with a stick shift the deed SHIFTED to me.   This was just a minor hiccup; there was, however, a bigger problem.  The two of us weren’t “big as a minute” (as my Aunt Donnalene used to say) and even after moving the seat forward as far as it would go my feet didn’t touch the pedals – now, this WAS a dilemma!!!  Putting our two great minds together (and that was a REALLY dangerous thing) we came up with a plan.

Our hastily devised plan went like this: Denise would sit in the floorboard and push the gas, break and clutch petals with her hands, and I would sit in the seat and steer, shift the gears and work the blinkers.  Not for one minute did we ever think this would’t work!

Just starting the truck proved to be a huge undertaking as the engine kept dying on us.  And if that weren’t bad enough, getting our petal action and our gear shifting in sync was worse.  With every turn of the key, I’d call to Denise “CLUTCH” and while she held down the clutch petal I’d shift into “R” to which the truck would respond by lurching forward followed by the engine dying.  Never ones to admit to defeat, we repeated this process at least a zillion times before FINALLY making it out into the road.  With the worst part behind us we thought the rest would be smooth sailing…little did we know.

Since Denise was in the floor board and couldn’t see the road, I’d call out verbal commands: “CLUTCH”, “BRAKE”, “GAS”  and she’d push in the designated pedal as we went bumping, jerking, grinding, lurching along our merry way.

On straight aways, when I didn’t need to shift for awhile, Denise would pop up and sit beside me taking over the wheel while I moved forward in the seat stretching my right foot forward to push on the gas petal as we jaunted happily along looking like a driver with two heads.  When the time came to gear down or stop Denise would get back in the floorboard and resume her usual jobs.  

By our third trek around the subdivision we were shifting gears like pros, and passers by didn’t give us a second glance.  But, it was the getting started again after coming to a complete stop that was still a major problem…this was the danger point – being exposed for the delinquents we were.  Deciding not to push our luck any further than we already had, we drove back to the house and parked the truck in the spot where it had been left.

Back inside, we were on pins and needles anticipating the trouble that most likely awaited us.  Maybe a neighbor had seen us, or the helper noticed something amiss – like the gas gage.   But, to our amazement, there was nothing…could it be we got away with something?  That just didn’t happen to us – truth be known, we were no strangers to punishment – it was the type of punishment that had us worried this time.  We had, after all, only “borrowed” the truck, that surely didn’t spell CRIMINAL – or did it???

The next day we couldn’t believe our luck, the truck was there again – keys inside – doors unlocked.   Tired of our old route we decided to take a different one, one that I had forgotten had a one lane bridge, the scary kind with the wood planks that the tires had to align perfectly over.  When we got near the bridge I got cold feet – I couldn’t do it – we just needed to turn around and go back the way we came.

There was a driveway a few yards from the bridge so we turned into it; seeing that no cars were in sight we began our backing-up process.  Of course, as usual, shifting into “R” presented the same ole predicament – lurch forward – stall… lurch forward – stall.  We repeated this procedure over and over again as little by little the truck moved backward until it was out into the road.  By this time other cars were coming – we were in full blown panic – WE HAD PUSHED THE ENVELOPE TOO FAR THIS TIME!

Cars and trucks were piling up on both sides of the bridge, none of which could cross because we were blocking the whole road – too many eyes were on us – we knew… OUR GOOSE WAS COOKED!!!

We continued trying to get out of this pickle, but as usual the truck kept up its business of lurching forward followed by the engine dying – our jittery nerves weren’t helping a thing.  Tired of waiting, a man got out of his truck, and walked over to us; “Need help?” What could I say?  When he opened the door, there was Denise in the floorboard…IMAGINE HIS SURPRISE!!!  

We got out of the truck, and stood in the road in plain sight of the waiting cars.  Trying to hide our faces we shielded our eyes and focused our attention on our shoeS, but we couldn’t help but notice the driver of the car nearest us…OUR DENTIST!!!… and, the sly grin on his face told us he recognized us, too.  OOH, WE WERE DEFINITELY BUSTED!!!  

Without a hitch the man started the truck, and turned it around.  We sheepishly thanked him, resumed our positions, and drove back to the house to await our doom.

Anticipating the worst, we spent an agonizing night, but to our great relief, no one came barging into my room with threats of jail – or worse…GROUNDED FOR LIFE… as we fully expected.  Maybe, we thought, they were just prolonging our agony, making us sweat until morning when all hell would break loose.  

The next morning we emerged cautiously from my room expecting to see angry faces and hear screaming voices, but the house was quiet – no one was there.  

We rushed out to the driveway to check out the truck – it was there alright – BUT… the doors were locked and the keys were nowhere in sight.  That told the tale – THEY KNEW!   We had no doubt who had ratted on us, it was that familiar face we had seen at the bridge…THE DENTIST!!!

As for our punishment, that’s the most incredible thing of all…there was NONE!!! If our parents and the helper knew, which we’ve always been certain that they did, nothing was ever said about it… NOT EVER….even after we became adults when stories like these are usually at long last revealed – NOT A WORD FROM ANYONE!  As for Denise and me – we did some crazy things… but we weren’t stupid – MUM WAS THE WORD!

*Footnote:  For those unfamiliar with Heckle and Jeckle, they were cartoon characters from the 1940s: a pair of look-alike, mischievous magpies, who were always getting into trouble.