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It was after school in August, and I was getting ready for track practice. We used the collage's track 3 miles away for practice and since I had a car, I was very popular. Just then I heard locker doors slamming and looked around to see some of the football players. When they are not playing football some of them run track to stay in shape.
This is where the story begins....Chad came up to me with his fine, 5'9, blond hair, shirtless self and asked, "Are we driving your mom's sputtering pile of shit to practice?"
I said, "yes Chad, if you want a ride, you are welcome to come along."
Chad then said "Do you have the keys?"
I said , "Yes, it's my car is it not?"
Chad then put his foot on my chest and while pushing me into the locker said, "It might be your mom's station-wagon, but I'm going to be driving it! Do you have a problem with that?"
I right away said no. Just then, Brian and Alex, who are also on the football team came over and asked Chad if he had gotten a car to drive to practice. He said, "yea, a piece of shit station-wagon"
We then jogged over to the parking lot. I was jogging behind Chad, Brian, and Alex. All three were bare-chested and wearing the same thing. Skimpy nylon jogging shorts that were black with red pin stripes. They were also all wearing short, white ankle socks. We got to the car and Chad told me to get in the back because only football players get to ride in front. I noticed Chad in the drivers seat taking off his shoes.
He then tossed them back and barked, "Re-lace these shoes fag"
The smell from his foot sweat was making me dizzy. I looked up to see Chad starting to pump the gas pedal with his size 12 foot. He turned the key and the car didn't start. He then turned the key too quickly and granddad the starter, making a terrible sound. Brian and
Alex ,just laughed and said, " Yea, grind that starter Chad!"
Chad then slammed his foot down on gas and turned the key a third time, but this time holding
his foot down and keeping the key turned. The engine came to life, but he still held his foot on the gas and kept the key turned, making the car over-start to the point where I could smell the starter. Finally Chad let go of the starter and put it into drive. He was curling and wiggling his toes, and was letting the car just idle out of the parking lot.
I thought that the car would surely stall if he did not give it some gas, but he did not seem to care. We were at the lot exit, and right when the car sounded like it was going to stall, Chad Slammed his foot down on the gas and the car lurched forward three times and then stalled.
Chad turned the key again with his foot still all the way down on the gas, over-starting the car again. There must have been 13 stop signs on the drive to the track, because that is ho many times Chad had to re-start my mom's station-wagon. When we pulled up, Chad turned off the car, and it started to knock rapidly. Brian and Alex just got out and started laughing. As I got out of the back, the car was still knocking and there was clear fluid dripping out of the tail pipe. I guess it was condensation, since it was so hot and muggy, and the A/C had been on in the car. After practice, who ever was done first, was to go start the car and turn on the A/C. That happened to be Brian.
Brian came over to the car and took off his shoes and ankle socks. He had heard of using a car's air intake to dry-out wet socks, and shoved them in. Brian pumped the gas about four times and turned the key. The engine sputtered just above a stall, and Brian slid over to the passenger seat. After a few minutes of idling, Brian turned on the A/C causing the engine to cough. Alex saw that it was getting ready to stall and ran over. But before he could jump in the driver's seat, the car stalled. Brian told Alex what he had done with his socks, he just laughed and said he was going to do the same thing.
After Alex stuffed his socks in the intake he jumped in, pumped the gas about five times and turned the key. This time the car kind of shuttered as it turned over. Alex kept tapping the gas with his big toe, keeping the car just barely above a stall. Chad was walking over to the car so Alex got out of the driver's seat.
I noticed that Chad was barefoot with his dirty sweaty ankle socks in his hand. The engine was barely running when Chad also crammed his socks in the intake. This proved to be to much back pressure and the engine gave out. Chad hopped in, pumped the gas with his sweaty bare foot and curled his toes on his left foot around the choke lever. When he turned the key, the station-wagon shuttered and was really idling rough. The whole way back, Chad kept his bare foot all the way down on the gas to keep it from stalling and his left toes pulling down on the choke. I could not believe how much my moms car was bucking under the pressure and abuse of Chad's bare feet working the pedals.
When we finally sputtered up to the parking lot, Chad said, "Brian, Alex, and I all need sets of keys to your mom's station wagon, since we will be driving it to track, and football practice for the rest of the year!!"
