Reason #478: GTA

When I was around 16, I had this boyfriend. Actually, now that I think about it, he was my "first". He went to my school, but he was older than me. He was in a band, drove a van, and even wore eyeliner. (So believe me, that was THE big deal in the early '80s) My parents absolutely hated him, and his parents absolutely hated me. We were Sid and Nancy. (look it up, lazy bitches)
It was true love.
Being young and in love, we spent every possible moment together. Anyone who tried to keep us apart, was The Enemy. The relationship was very very toxic.
One summer, my boyfriend's parents were taking an adult vacation. This was the first time that they were leaving town without their kids. It was going to be hella' fun.
Of course, they made some "rules" that we all had to follow. I was not allowed to come over the entire time they were gone. My boyfriend "Sid" was also not allowed to drive the family car. (AKA van....AKA bedroom on wheels.....AKA The Virgin Taker) He promised that we would follow these rules.
That lasted approximately 16 hours.
We were some turning on the mix tapes (Yes, tapes. I'm serious.) and humping like bunnies all over the house. (thinking back now......ewwww!) After an afternoon of marathon sex, I tell him that I want to go out for ice cream. (Seriously dude, at this point I deserved it. *wink* *wink*) He hesitates, and tells me that he cannot drive anywhere.
Whatever. Get the keys, you sissy.
He proceeds to tell me that his dad wrote down the mileage of the van on the family calendar. I check out the calendar, and there it was.
115, 132

I smile, and say, "Is that a one or a seven?"
He looks again, and smiles. We go out to the van.
He starts to open the driver's door, and I stop him.
"Are you crazy or just stupid?"
He just stares at me.
"Your dad wrote down the mileage. He probably marked the position of the tires. Don't be an idiot."
He stares some more. (Just a little warning here, he was HOT, but pretty stupid.)
"You can't just move the car without marking the specific spot of where he parked it. You're dad isn't an idiot."
I go into the house, and return with chalk. I chalk the tires with a line, also marking the ground. When the two lines match, the car will be in the exact position where dad left it.
He stands back, still staring. He starts to open the door again.
"WAIT! He probably put markers in the car too."
"Markers??"
I get down on my knees and crawl into the van from the back. He follows. We grab a flashlight and start looking for the booby traps. (Thank you Nancy Drew books!!)
"What are we looking for?"
"Hairs. He can tape a hair across the wheel or something, to prove that you messed with it. If it's gone or broken, he will know."
We scour every inch of the interior with a flashlight. We find nothing.
"Okay, I think we are ready!"
We head out for ice cream. Later that night, we go to the drive in. (Pee Wee's Big Adventure) We didn't see any of the movie.
We get crazy all week long.
It was hella' fun.
A few days before his parents were due home, I ask him about the car. He tells me that it's in the garage, and it took him 45 mins to park it EXACTLY where his dad left it. (Thank you chalk marks!)
"So, how many miles did you put on it?"
"about 120 miles"

*Stunned silence*




*Still more stunned silence*


Finally, I find my voice.
"So.....um, how are you going to explain that." (Okay, I'm totally thinking that he totally going to pull off a Ferris Bueller and want to run the car in reverse.)
"I was just going to leave it like that. I figured that I could convince my dad that he wrote the numbers down wrong."



*More stunned silence*



"Are you kidding me? Why would he think that he made a mistake and wrote down 115,132 instead of 115, 252?? That makes no sense at all!!"
"Ummmm....I guess you're right. I'm so screwed." (Again, not the sharpest crayon in the box)
I think.
And think.
And think.
"you have to convince him that his 1 is actually a 7"
"What?"
"See how he wrote his 1? Sloppy. It could pass for a 7"
"ahhhhh.....I see. So how do I fix it?"
"DUDE! You have to add a total of 600 miles. You already added 120 miles, so you have to add EXACTLY 480 miles more by the time he gets home."
Silence.


Silence.

"How much gas money do you have?" he asks me.

The next day, is the day his parents are due. He skips the entire day of school, in order to add 300 more miles on the van. I go to school, but will get an update from him at break and lunchtime. His plan mainly consist of driving on the freeway for so many miles, then turn around and go towards home. He does this for 6 hours. He has to be EXACT so the last few miles, he does by driving around his neighborhood. Finally, a few hours before his parents are due, he tries to park the van in the exact same spot that his dad left it. It takes him an hour and a half. He finally get the miles to the perfect spot (adding EXACTLY 600 miles) and the chalk lines match. He dusts off the exterior, and hoses off the chalk marks. Then he heads to bed. His parents arrive later that night.
The next day at school, I ask him about his night. He tells me that his dad woke up early that day. He went straight to the family calendar, and wrote down the number he had written 10 days prior. He heads to the garage, and checks the odometer. He checks his paper again. He checks the odometer again. He goes back to the calendar. He shakes his head. He asks Sid, "Did you drive the car this week?"
"No, sir." says Sid.
His dad continues to look at the numbers. I think he is trying to convince himself that:
a: he wrote the numbers down wrong.
b. it's a 7, and not a 1.
c: there is no way his son just put 600 miles on his car.

His dad never says anything.
Ever.
Sid on the other hand, starts calling me the Evil Genius. I simply tell him that "If I used my powers for good, how boring will my life be?"