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04/17/2013 @ 2:44pm

I wasn’t there.

It’s not my story.

But it’s a good story.

A few decades ago, there was a guy, and this guy had a good buddy.  

Anyway, he brought a girl to his hometown bar after a night of wining and dining her.

Actually, knowing him, there probably wasn’t any wine and not much dine. There was probably just quite a bit of beer.

So, they were at a bar and met the buddy, and at some point in the evening, our guy went to the restroom. Remember, there’d been a lot of beer involved.

He came back from the restroom and couldn’t help but notice that his girl was gone. And so was his buddy.

You know, these things happen.  We live in a complicated world and sometimes the heart does what the heart wants - and sometimes buddies are not to be trusted.

A couple of weeks later, our guy was driving through a different town and noticed that his buddy’s car was parked outside a different bar.  He pulled in next to it, climbed out, and after a moment of thought, popped the hood and pulled off the coil wire.

I don’t think cars have coil wires anymore, but back when cars did have them, it was really important for them to be attached.

Our guy closed the hood, went into the bar and starting buying his buddy drinks.  

Some time later, they left the bar and got into their cars.  One car started and one didn’t.  

“Tell you what,” our guy said. “How about I give you a push down the hill and you can pop the clutch. It’ll start then.”

The buddy agreed. Remember, there had been some beer involved.

The car that was running began to push the car that hadn’t. They started at the top of a long hill. Interestingly enough, at the bottom of the long hill was a place where the highway patrol would sometimes sit, probably waiting to see if there were any erratic drivers leaving the bars at closing time.

The two cars were picking up speed. It was a 30 MPH zone, but they were approaching 50. It was winter, and the buddy’s windshield was frosted over, so he had rolled down the window and stuck his head out to steer. Our guy gave one little extra nudge, then hit the brakes and made a hard right turn.

The buddy continued down the hill, head out the window, waiting to pop the clutch. Until, of course, he saw the flashing lights behind him. He coasted to a stop and cleaned the ice off his glasses as he watched the highway patrolman walk up.

“Is there a problem officer?” he asked. Classic line – you have to appreciate that. It might have gone over better if he hadn’t been drinking beer for five hours.

“You were speeding,” the cop said.

In a tone of vast indignation the buddy said, “My car wasn’t even running! How could I be speeding?”

“You were going 50 in a 30,” the cop said.

“It wasn’t me! My friend is pushing me. He’s the one speeding!”

“What friend?” the cop asked.

The buddy looked behind him and saw nothing but an empty road.

We live in a complicated world and sometimes buddies are not to be trusted.

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