From Grill Walk to Freeway Grilling

It’s been almost three years since we got hitched, and thus, the Clueless Newlywed part of my life is long since gone.  That being said, last week’s mayhem made me realize that I may not be a newlywed any longer but Nikki Flores is still very much clueless and very much married to an even far more clueless husband.  So what inspired me to sit down, begin writing and launch  A near déjà vu moment in which my husband managed to out-do one of his crazy ideas.

It’s been what…Eight months since my last post as a newlywed, in which I shared the joys of pushing a grill for a good mile from our old place to our new one? You remember now, right?

Alas…Tonight’s topic is a similar one–In that it involves moving a grill from point A to point B. However, the method of accomplishing such a feat changed a bit. In fact, you might even say that my husband matured a little in these last 8 months. (Shocking, I know!) This time around, he actually came up with the idea to rent a truck from Lowe’s to aid us in transporting our new grill from the store to our NEW house.

So…Picture it.

It’s 7:45pm, and two Lowe’s store associates lifted this massive grill up onto the truck’s bed and proceeded to  “securely attach” it to the vehicle.

“So, uh…We’re cool to go on the freeway, right?” My husband asked, as the store associates wrapped what looked like the thinnest piece of white fishing line I’ve ever seen around the grill.

“Oh yeah!” One of the associates replied a little too confidently as he tied a knot with the fishing line from the grill to the truck. “This rope is sturdy. As long as it’s not too windy, and you don’t take any sharp turns…Oh yeah, and be careful accelerating, and make sure that you don’t break too fast.” He tied one last knot and finished with: “And just ignore the warning lights in the vehicle.  It’s been like that for months.”

My husband threw me the keys and said. “You’re driving!”

Now I hate trucks. I absolutely despise them! Why?  Because I am a mere 4 feet 11 inches tall, so I literally need a running start and small pole jump just to get up into the driver’s seat!  And if that weren’t enough, even after scooting my chair up the inch those trucks allow, I still can’t reach the pedals.  I literally have to drive with my tip toes while barely being able to see over the steering wheel.  I look like an 80 year old bubbie in a Cadillac.  Think I’m kidding?

See what I mean? I can't reach the pedals and see over the steering wheel at the same time!

But wait…There’s more.

So we are leaving Lowe’s as my husband laughs at my attempt to maneuver this tank of a truck, while keeping one eye on the grill to make sure it stayed put. And it did.

That is…Until I turned onto the entrance ramp of the freeway and the “rope” broke.We hadn’t even driven a mile, hadn’t even hit 45 mph before the grill decided to make a break for freedom.

I began to pull over to the side of the entrance ramp, and before I could even come to a complete stop, my husband jumps out the door and swings onto the back of the truck.  I swear it was like some hillbilly version of a Tom Cruise action flick (only my hubby’s not nearly as cute as him and instead of saving a girl, he was saving a grill).

“Go just go!” I heard him scream. I stomped on the gas and barely squeezed in front of a semi onto the highway.

With my husband now anchored somewhere behind the grill, I attempted to drive the truck I so affectionately nick-named ‘The Beast.’ Again, because of my height, driving ‘The Beast’ was one hell of a challenge.

Eventually, I got the hang of it…Driving turned into a carefully balanced juggling act of positioning myself high enough to see over the steering wheel for about 30 seconds, only to lose my footing on the gas pedal and have to slouch down again. I suppose you could describe my impeccable driving skills as a 20-minute rendition of a human body mimicking an accordion.  Stretch, squeeze, stretch, squeeze. Make sure the road’s clear. Use the gas, make sure the road’s clear, use even more gas. Not to mention, when I exited the freeway, I had to drive on one of the bumpiest roads ever in order to get to my house.

As I pulled into our driveway and stopped abruptly, I rolled down my window and yelled back to my husband, “Hey hon! You alright?”

After a long pause, I heard a meager whimper of a response. “Yes.”

I jumped out of the truck, walked around to the back and saw this:

“Can we never do that again?” he said, trembling a bit as a he climbed out of the back of the truck.

Now the real question is……..In the middle of this story I said NEW house!  So what happened between grill story number 1 and grill story number 2?  That’s what I can’t wait to tell you about next.  Stay tuned and welcome to the new!

NOTE: The site may be up-and-running, but it’s a work-in-progress, so bare with me as I perfect it. And if you’ve been wondering what I’ve been up to in the past 8 months, stay tuned cos I’m going to catch you up!

About Nikki Flores is written by Nikki Flores, a clueless girl who lives in Littleton, Colorado and blogs about how clueless she really is when it comes to life's crazy adventures. She writes in an honest, open, and sometimes witty voice. In other words, she keeps it real, raw, and completely relatable.
This entry was posted in Clueless Consumer, Clueless Wife, Uncategorized and tagged , , , , , , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

One Response to From Grill Walk to Freeway Grilling

  1. Pingback: Clueless Me: From Grill Walk to Freeway Grilling « Reaching for the Moon

Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *