Let Me Tell You About The Time... ~Shareing our favorite moments~

Let me tell you... About the time I read the wrong speed of of my speedometer.
(this short story may or may not have happened about three hours ago...)


Back story: 1992 Toyota Camry, 2.2 liter 4 cylinder, 5 speed manual transmission. (Sorry guys, I'm a car nut.) The Speedometer does NOT work. (Or the odometer for that matter...) But, thanks to the invention of the iPhone, well, There's an app for that.

So its dark, and I'm heading home from the store. (Actually, I'm pulling out onto a country highway.) My "speedometer" is sitting up on the dashboard. As I pull up to the parking lot exit, I see a string of traffic coming. If I go now, I can make it just fine; if I wait, I'll be sitting for quite some time. I decide to jump for it, and I roll onto the road in 2nd gear. This car is not really excellent at taking off in second gear. I should have shifted into first, but it won't engage that gear unless the car is stopped. I open up the throttle a good bit to get at least a sense of moving quickly. I shift into 3rd gear and glance at my speed; How on earth am I doing 50 mph?! Next, into 4th, I see that I am already up to 75. Then 5th. I know that in 5th gear, at 2250 rpm, you will be doing 55. The "speedometer" reads closer to 90. Okaaaayyyy, starting to panic here. OOOHHHH! Now I feel like a complete idiot. That's not Miles Per Hour... Its KILOMETERS Per Hour!

I had somehow managed to bump the kph button... silly me...

Lesson learned: Don't trust electronics, and always go with your gut.
lau.gif
 
Me and my friend share a crush and we really like this guy alot and this one time we were in PE and we were siting on the bleachers . I didn't know that
he was in front of me and we were talking how cute he was and stuff like that. I was looking around to see were he was because he wasn't siting with the guys he usually did and I was all like "were's Marcos, were's Marcos" and this other cute guy that was sitting in front of us with him was like he's right
here.
 
So I am part Native American...mainly Cherokee. And when I get sick or injured, (not likely but it has happened) We have to drive two hours to Tahlequah to the Cherokee hospital...yup...I'm one of the only fair skinned- Blue eyed Cherrokee's there lol. Every time I go it's really embarrassing and funny. Once i was sitting in the waiting room, because my mom was sick. Across from me sat an old Cherokee woman, her weathered face wrapped in a scowl as she stared out the window. I looked out the window too, watching the squirrels run around. But I happened to glance back at the lady and she was staring at me. I smiled at her brightly trying to cheer her up but her scowl grow deeper and deeper. Aggrieved that my efforts to cheer her up went unwanted, I tried to smile at her a few more times...always the same response...
Then I thought about if for a while and then....oh, what the heck....I'll try it....
I scowled back.
Okay...Usually I would NEVER DO THIS but....it just seemed like the right thing to do and guess what? After scowling at each other for a moment, the authentic looking Cherokee woman and I, the white- skinned but wild Indian...her wrinkled face split into a beautiful smile. I guess that's what she wanted...a scowl.
Huh....
But we just sat there smiling back and forth until my mom was called in. I saw her once or twice more on different visits but never caught her eye.
That's just one weird instance I have experienced being a registered white/Indian on the rez...
 
So I am part Native American...mainly Cherokee. And when I get sick or injured, (not likely but it has happened) We have to drive two hours to Tahlequah to the Cherokee hospital...yup...I'm one of the only fair skinned- Blue eyed Cherrokee's there lol.  Every time I go it's really embarrassing and funny. Once i was sitting in the waiting room, because my mom was sick. Across from me sat an old Cherokee woman, her weathered face wrapped in a scowl as she stared out the window. I looked out the window too, watching the squirrels run around. But I happened to glance back at the lady and she was staring at me. I smiled at her brightly trying to cheer her up but her scowl grow deeper and deeper. Aggrieved that my efforts to cheer her up went unwanted, I tried to smile at her a few more times...always the same response...
Then I thought about if for a while and then....oh, what the heck....I'll try it....
I scowled back.
Okay...Usually I would NEVER DO THIS but....it just seemed like the right thing to do and guess what? After scowling at each other for a moment, the authentic looking Cherokee woman and I, the white- skinned but wild Indian...her wrinkled face split into a beautiful smile. I guess that's what she wanted...a scowl.
Huh....
But we just sat there smiling back and forth until my mom was called in. I saw her once or twice more on different visits but never caught her eye.
That's just one weird instance I have experienced being a registered white/Indian on the rez...


Nice. XD. Kinda LOL too.
 
LOL that's hilarious! What did you DO when you found out he had been there the whole time?!


I was beet red, my friend was just silently giggling. Marcos turned and looked at us, just smiled.
LOL that's hilarious! What did you DO when you found out he had been there the whole time?!


I was beet red, my friend was just silently giggling. Marcos turned and looked at us, just smiled.


Lol, that's hillarious! Have you talked to him since?!
 

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