One of the very innocent-looking people in this picture is actually GUILTY of a terrible crime (that doesn't involve wearing over-sized sunglasses). No, it involves the breakage of bones.
Ok, it was me. Well, Becky was there, too, but she's innocent.
It all happened late one night about a week before I got married. Steve and I took some friends out to play Whirley Ball (which is like rugby/basketball in bumper cars) and after we were done we were just hanging out in the parking lot, laughing and talking. Becky and I were sitting in Steve's truck (a Sonoma, identical cousin to the S10) and I was about to drive us home when I noticed Steven's friend, Bogie, hanging off the tailgate.
His huge and goofy smile told me he wanted me to drive him around the parking lot a few times, and so I happily obliged. After I stopped, I looked into the rearview mirror and SAW NO BOGIE. I, therefore, pealed out of the parking lot like the devil himself was chasing me. Unfortunately even though no Bogie was spotted, a Bogie was still hanging on perilously low. Imagine my surprise when Becky squealed for me to "Stop, Bogie's dead!" I stopped, Bogie was not dead, but he did have a broken wrist which is how our Best Man ended up in a cast on my wedding day.
I'm guilty and I take full responsibility.
Next up: How NOT to start a conversation if you want someone to help you out. HINT: Avoid words like "look" and "listen" as sentence openers.