Oh my gosh!  I am such a sheltered white boy!  I told you on Saturday that I was on my way to shoot a wedding with my wife Celestial in Sac Town.  We drove home at about 11:00 that night after a very long day of capturing moments—a beautiful, but very long string of moments; those folks can party. 

On our way home things got a little crazy with us little Rocklin white kids mixed up in the ghetto!

Our transmission has recently started going out.  What I mean by that—since I know nothing about cars—is that my car makes a funny grinding sounds during random moments of a drive and, given the oil puddle and low levels of it in the transmission, we assume with certainty: TRANSMISSION PROBLEM!!!  It’s always the transmission right?

Well, I was a bad husband and forgot to purchase the transmission fluid that needed to be added (sorry Celestial) and given the substantial increase in curious grinding noise, an immediate stop was going to be required.  So, we keep our eyes open and pull into the next gas station we see with lights on.

Bad choice!  There were lights, but not enough.  There were people, but not friendly ones.  There were different races but none like mine (calm down, I’ve got a little of everything in me).  Conditions were not perfect.  But we needed oil!  So in I went.

As I came out, two guys followed me, and my oil, back to my car.

Scary guy:  Hey, do you have a light? 

Silly White Boy (Me):  No dude, sorry, I don’t.

Scary guy:  How about a couple bucks so I can get one?

Silly White Boy (Me):  Awh, Sorry dude, no cash.

(Scary guy gets right in my face and this is the part where I start to wet myself).

Scary Guy:  Hey, brrroww! (insert sarcasm, slurred speech, and alcohol breath) “Dude” isn’t something that you say in these parts.  You say dude to the wrong person and you’re going to get yourself killed.

Silly White Boy (Me):  (trying to maintain composure) Oh yeah?  My bad, I will totally keep that in mind.

Scary Guy:  Good.  But you need to say you’re sorry. 

Silly White Boy: (thinking: Not good. Need wisdom Lord. Help).  I totally apologize.   

Scary Guy:  No, say you’re sorry. 

Silly White Boy:  I am very sorry.

So, kinda bizarre and freaky right?  Well, thank you Jesus, after I said sorry for my dude calling, I was clear headed enough to redirect scary guy’s mass of energy (and the other guy) off of wanting to kill me and into the task at hand—my Transmission!

I don’t know if you have ever had the privilege of watching 2 wasted guys try to figure out how to check the Transmission oil, but it is quite amusing.  They spent about 5 minutes taking off every cap on my engine—the wiper wash was no exception; apparently it’s not always easy to tell the difference between a container of Windex and a transmission. 

At any rate, we are alive.  We got out of there after there were no more caps to remove and just before my radiator got filled with transmission fluid.  It felt like a safe time to leave and so we just took care of the fluid a safer distance down the way.

No joke, this was one of the few instances in my life where I have been legitimately frightened for my wife’s or my well being.  (BTW, Celestial was ducking down in the front seat gettin ready to call 911 the whole time lest you think I exaggerate the intensity).

Ok.  So what do you think?  What would you have done?