Quote of the Day - My parents are responsible for the two things I like doing most - driving and magic tricks. They bought me my first go-kart and a magician's kit.
Go ahead. Read that headline again. That's right, it's called juxtaposition with an illogical conclusion. Before we get to the rest of the punchline here, let's just look at that carefully crafted silliness we call life.
Here's the setup. Kile Wygle must have had some spare parts for a go-kart, a kitchen bar stool, a lot of time on his hands and presumably a lot of beer in his refrigerator. And at least four wheels and a working engine. Let's take this piece by piece.
First there's the four wheels, spare parts for a go kart and the kitchen stool. Then swirl in some extra time, a dash of creativity - notice I said a dash here. That means a small amount. Oh yes, and let's not forget the frame for this mechanized wonder and some welding tools. Put all of that together and you get a mechanized go-kart with a bar stool that can hit 38 miles an hour on the open flats. Not bad for a 28-year old aspiring mechanic.
Makes the trip to the refrigerator for some beer all that much more interesting.
Imagine. You're watching the Monday night football game and your brew is empty. You don't have to say to your buddy, "Hey dude, bring me back a beer with the chips and cheese in a can." You can just shift your bar stool into high gear and get it yourself, all from the comfort of your own bar stool without even getting up. I can hear it now, "Man, you should patent that thing. Everybody's going to want one."
Right. Not after the rest of the story.
Kile's Monday night football game went on a little too long. Well, at least long enough to go back and forth to the kitchen for 15 beers, which - yep, you guessed it - caused Kile to run out of beer. No problem. He's got a go-kart bar stool that goes 38 miles an hour.
Just a quick trip to the 7-11 at the end of the block and problem solved - if it hadn't been for that little thing called a curb. At 38 miles an hour. Kile ends up no longer on the bar stool / go-kart speedster but instead with some pretty serious road rash. No problem, though. He's got a cell phone. A quick little call to 911 and he'll be good as new by morning.
When the cops arrive, they see the bar stool / go-kart, Kile on the ground with injuries and ask the inevitable questions we're all dying to ask: how and why? Being the upstanding citizen that he is, Kile responds honestly: 15 beers and a go-kart bar stool that does 38 miles an hour.
Kile ends up charged with a DUI and driving - if you can call it that - with a suspended license.
Here's the real story, which is shy on a few details I presumed likely to be the case and added to connect the missing dots. Call it poetic license. Kile certainly would.