December 12, 2021: Intersection -

The “let your car tell you it needs service” story intersects with the high school musical story in a “what was I thinking” story.

The Mustang died at the intersection of Highway 224 and … yes, Lake the road that ran past the high school (old Clackamas, not the snazzy new one). I was on my way to auditions. Big day, auditions!

Somehow, I knew the car would never run again (I was right: timing chain). I felt that relief you get when a tortured relationship finally ends. I also felt that the dead car was a minor problem which could not interfere with starting auditions on time. (Prioritization glitch. Sometimes I suffer severe prioritization glitching.) The show must go on.  

So I got my boombox out, and my dance bag, and I left the dead car unlocked in the intersection, right in the middle of 224 (no cell phones yet). 

And I raced to the school and to the auditorium, and when I walked in, there were some boys waiting to audition, kids I’d worked with the year before.

And I said, Hey, guys, my car is dead out in the intersection, and if you will go get it and push it into the parking lot, you’re in the show! Can’t promise you a speaking role, but you’re in! And they gleefully said, “Sure, Celia!” and galloped off like a bunch of one-year-old Labradors, and I started auditions. On time!

Yes.

I bribed. Teenagers. To go off school grounds. Into traffic.  To rescue my stupid junker.

Well may you gasp. Made sense at the time, though!

Auditions went well, the boys all galloped back in, panting and giving me the thumbs up. I think it was the next day before I realized: I should be fired for doing that. And jailed. It’s reckless endangerment, right? Also, appallingly stupid. (But Your Honor, I started auditions On Time!)  

I’m assuming the statute of limitations has run out on this by now.

The boys would have been in the show regardless. This was early days, before we built a program so amazing that we had extra boys auditioning.

I still feel bad about this, if that’s not clear. Also, I don’t know how I got home, and I don’t recall who the boys were (successfully blocked THAT bit!), but I apologize to them. I’m glad you guys survived high school, and me!

The Mustang did not go from the CHS parking lot to the Horse Heaven Hills (this joke is for my friend Annie). It was bought by a 15 year old and his dad, despite my repeated discouragement. They had a dream of spending a year fixing it up and bonding with each other (dad’s dream) so that the kid could drive it when he turned 16, thereby becoming the coolest 16 year old on the planet (kid’s dream). I hope it came true.