A Quote by Randy Bachman
I remember having my father stand over me when I had driven over my own foot; one leg was out of the car and one leg was in the car. He looked at me and told me that I was a drunk and that he was ashamed to call me his son. That night, I stopped drinking and I never drank again; I was twenty four.
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I went to see my mother the other day, and she told me this story that I'd completely forgotten about how, when we were driving together, she would pull the car over, and by the time she had gotten out of the car, and gone around the car to let me out of the car, I would have already gotten out of the car and pretended to have died.
My mom told me that when the car struck me, I landed 80 feet off the road. When they found me, I was curled up in a ball with my left leg mangled and twisted and almost severed in two. They all thought I was dead.
I was on my way to fetch my little sister from school when I met with an accident. A bike which was at a very high speed ran over my leg while I was crossing the road. My leg was so badly fractured that it took me almost seven months to be able to stand on my legs again.
I remember on Thanksgiving all the kids wanted the drumstick. There were four of us then. Well, today you can go into the supermarket and get 12 drumsticks. Years ago you couldn't do that. So I was sucking on the neck for two years. My mother told me it was the leg, and I believed it. I went to my father and said, Why is my leg always cockeyed? He said, The bird has arthritis.
When my father finally got around to teaching me to drive, he was impressed at my "natural" talent for driving, not knowing that I had already been secretly driving my mother's car around the neighborhood. When I took the test and got my license and my father gave me my own set of keys to the car one night at dinner, it was a major rite of passage for him and my mother. Their perception of me had changed and was formally acknowledged. For me the occasion meant a private sanction to do in public what I had already been doing in secret.
My mom used to tell me stories at night, read books to me - and I read 'em over and over and over again. And you know what I learned from that? I went back and looked at everything - Why do I like reading the same stories over and over and over again? What, was I some kind of nincompoop? No - the narrative gave me connection with my mom.
Sam came around the side of the car and stopped dead when he saw me. “Oh my God, what is THAT?” I used my thumb and middle finger to flick the multicolored pom-pom on top of my head. “In my language, we call it a HAT. It keeps my ears warm.” “Oh my God,” Sam said again, and closed the distance between us. He cupped my face in his hands and studied me. “It’s horribly cute.” He kissed me, looked at the hat, and then he kissed me again. I vowed never to lose the pom-pom hat.
The night I turned twenty-two, I drank a shot for every year. I was so drunk, I'd just walk up to people in the bar and hit them in the balls. My friends drove me home and left me propped up on the couch holding a bucket. I woke up with vomit all over me. The bucket was clean as a whistle.
I walked over to Drake and stomped on his foot. Hard. "What will I give you to help me? What will I give you?" He stood on one leg rubbing his foot, grinning a grin so steamy, it almost melted my underwear. "I never doubted you would defeat her. You are my mate. You could do no less." I pointed a finger at him. "You are too arrogant for your own good. I officially de-mate you. Go away. I never want to see you again. Except maybe tonight. Naked. Your place. But after that, no more.
But it was definitely a car trailing me and quickly I prepared myself for a great dash. I began quickening my step and when it stopped alongside me I could stand it no longer. "My father's a cop and he'll kill you," I screeched without looking. "No, he's a barrister," I heard Michael Andretti say in a calm voice, "and he'll kill you if you don't get into this car.
Everybody's angry with me because, apparently, I outed my cousin during an argument over a turkey leg. My cousin goes, 'You had the last leg.' I was like, 'You're gay.
Something inside me twists as I remember another voice. Rue. In the arena. When I gave her the leg of groosling. “Oh, I've never had a whole leg to myself before.” The disbelief of the chronically hungry.
How many legs does a dog have if you call his tail a leg? Four. Saying that a tail is a leg doesn't make it a leg.
If I had lost a leg, I would tell them, instead of a boy, no one would ever ask me if I was 'over it'. They would ask me how I was doing learning to walk without my leg. I was learning to walk and to breathe and to live without Wade. And what I was learning is that it was never going to be the life I had before.
I remember walking home one day from school, and this car pulled up behind me really slow, and it gave me a really weird feeling, and all of a sudden it skimmed me, and the man was half naked and tried to pull me into his car and saying crazy things to me. And it was terrifying.
A lot of times people would offer me movies and, because I'm a car freak, I'd look in a magazine and say, 'How much is this car? If you give me this car I'll show up and do the movie' I call 'em 'sports car flicks'.
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