Dad and the accident

A good friend of mine mentioned something in his blog: Small Accidents Synchronicity...and Everything in Its Place that triggered a memory of my father.

Sometimes my dad was a truck driver, mixed in with all the other many things he'd done for a living over the years. On one of his trips he had an accident. This isn't the kind of accident that immediately comes to mind. It was definitely classified as “something else”. His reasoning for getting upset over it was also something else!

To explain dad a bit, WORK mattered more than anything else. Also, he couldn't stand to spend 1 penny on anything that wasn't absolutely 100% necessary. He could convince you that nothing was really necessary just to save a penny. That included any illnesses or injuries that other people would think a visit to a doctor would be necessary for themselves or another family member, no matter how old or young. Repairs were mostly duct tape and bailing wire. Buying anything new was incomprehensible. Bless his heart and may he rest in peace, he was raised in the depression and that's just how it was. He was the hardest worker I have ever known in my whole life and other people will attest to the same.

Anyway, on return from his trip on that fateful day, he came in the door visibly angry and upset. He slammed the door behind him, which of course got the attention of all of us kids. He held something tightly under his arm as he stomped through the house, mumbling as he went. No one knew what was wrong, but we sure all wanted to know! 

Later that evening, even though I was youngest - but maybe more so, that I was the most inquisitive about all things and never stopped asking, my mother told me that dad had made that trip extremely ill - which we commonly did. He would not miss one day of work no matter how sick he was. He would schlep his fanny up into that truck and go if he was dying. Anyway, the accident that happened was that diarrhea hit him, not another vehicle. He was pressed for time (as always) and did not want to stop, but he did make several stops, becoming more and more upset each time he had to.
 - He did that with all of us. Never wanted to stop when we needed to. One time mom told me that she had morning sickness when she was pregnant with me and on a day trip to my grandpa's house, he was mad about having to stop, so about the 3rd time he stopped, ripped one of the moon shaped hubcaps off the truck and handed it to her, telling her to barf in that because he wasn't stopping again. Yep, that was dear ol' dad!

Back to the story at hand -
When he thought that the green apple two step had finally passed and there couldn't possibly be another drop left, he didn't stop when the next urge struck. He ended up having uncontrollable, accidental anal emissions right then and there! But get this - even that wasn't what upset him so much as the fact that because of it, he had to make a stop and buy new choners. That was the big complaint. The poor man had to stop to clean up and he actually spend money on a new pair of skivvies.

I just always thought that was the nuttiest thing ever. But for my father, it was a huge ordeal. It's not like you wouldn't use that extra pair! 

... And maybe you shouldn’t work when you’re that sick. You know, just a thought.