Pops Just Makes You Want To Pop!
Author of these three stories here. Here’s another story about how dumb my dad was when I was growing up.
In late high school, I had permission to drive Dad’s car pretty much whenever I wanted to. I drove it way more than he did, and I was the primary mode of transport for my group of friends.
A few days before the fourth of July, I was driving on the highway with my friends in the car, and someone in the car ahead of us started throwing lit explosives out their window.
BANG! POP! BANG!
The loud noises bothered my autism.
Then, I heard a loud pop from under the car. I thought maybe it was one of the explosives. After that, the car started driving funny; it now had a distinct pull to the left. So, after I was done hanging out with my friends and I brought the car home, I told my dad about it.
The exact words I said were important because he took offense to them and refused to listen. I was too autistic to rephrase myself, and he was too autistic to listen. What I said every time was:
Me: “When I was driving on [Street], someone in the car in front of us started throwing firecrackers out the window. I heard a pop from under the car, and the car started driving differently; there’s a strong veer to the left.”
And every time, this was his response:
Dad: “Firecrackers can’t do that.”
Me: “Nevertheless, there was a pop under the car, and the car started veering left.”
Dad: “Firecrackers can’t do that.”
At that point, I gave up.
We had that exact conversation multiple times that summer. Dad eventually took the car to the mechanic for routine maintenance and found that something underneath was bent or broken, causing the car to veer to the left.
Dad: “[My Name], why didn’t you tell me the car was driving funny?”
Me: “I’ve already told you many times. You just never listened to me. A few days before the fourth of July, when I was driving on [Street], someone in the car in front of us started throwing firecrackers out the window. I heard a pop from under the car, and the car started driving differently; there was a strong veer to the left. Every time I’ve told you this, you’ve said, ‘Firecrackers can’t do that,’ instead of listening to me.”
Dad: “Firecrackers can’t do that.”
Me: “Yeah, that.”
Dad: “But why didn’t you tell me?”
Frustrated, I walked away into my room, locked the door, and read fiction until I calmed down.
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