GMC Yukon: 1 Crackhouse apartments: 0
Last night at 2:15 I woke up to a loud BANG. I went back to sleep. Then there were sirens. I went back to sleep. Then Charlie woke up and I went into his room where there were lights flashing through his window and what sounded like a big truck running outside. I peeked out his window and saw three or four firetrucks and several police cars down the street from my house where my street Ts into another street.
I took that picture from my driveway this morning as evidence that on the road to redneck it is a slippery slope from drinking beer in your driveway to living next to a house with a truck-shaped hole in it.
Charlie and I hung out with my neighbor and her friend who were having a yard sale today to finance a gambling trip to New Mexico and I got to hear some of the details of the accident from them. It was two college-aged kids in a big SUV. And as is usually the case in car vs. building accidents, the driver had been drinking. They came flying down my street, ran the stop sign, hopped the curb, and hit the house.
While we were sitting on my neighbor's porch the resident of the smashed apartment walked out of the hole holding the grill of the truck over his head like a trophy.
We all cheered. Then we finished the last of our Wild Turkey and ate the possum-steaks we grilled up on the car's radiator.