This won't end well

Last week, I foolishly pointed out to the boys that a house at the edge of our neighborhood was for sale. The same house that had two disused quarter pipe skateboard ramps in the back yard. A plan was hatched to call the real estate agent and ask if they could have them. Mr. Fabulous calls the realtor and immediately gets confused on the phone, in the end the realtor agreed to call the homeowner and ask for them. They get the okay 5 minutes later. I begin regretting pointing this out. This is a weeknight, the little ones are in the process of eating and starting their wind down procedures. No way are we going to get them that night....

Graphic Representation of my decision making paradigm

So, we load up in the Dad Van and go to check them out. There is a small one. It is 24" tall maybe and 3-4 feet across. This is perfect and just what I wanted to find. It is a bit rotten and will need reworking a bit. We work together and wrestle it through a narrow gate and down some sketchy stairs. We then go back to check out Ramp #2. It is large. Four feet tall, 5 feet across and 8 feet deep. Why so deep? There is a platform on the top for them to drop in from. HUGE. The lack of broken bones in our house is a problem this will solve.

This may have been fueled by unrealized dreams of my youth

It wasn't rotten so that excuse for not getting it was out. It was however too big for them to help move and it had no chance of fitting in the Dad Van. These kids are smart. They know my weaknesses. They ask for me to call Uncle Brett. All of you have a best friend that when you are with, things get more interesting and you can count on everything you do together turning into a story. Your Uncle Brett has nothing on me and my bff. He is by no means an uncle but they called him that and offered ice cream. I later found out that he only came to make my life harder through the acquisition of this ramp. His only question to me at the time was if he needed a truck and when they wanted to do it. they obviously wanted to do it immediately as it was now dark out. And why would he need a truck? I have a truck.

About my truck. It is glorious. That is all you need to know. Also it may be useful to know that its brakes are suspect at best. The clutch and first gear are very tired. Both of those things are reasonable considered its a 1964 model. I only drive it twice a year anyway. So the battery is dead obviously.

Actual picture of my beautiful somewhat functional truck

My kryptonite bff is now at my house, my kids are chomping at the bit to go, Supermodel is looking out the window only shaking her head (foreshadowing), and I have a dead truck. Lets insert a map here:

Cartographer in the making. ROAD OF DEATH should be noted. Also note the location of ramp in relation to said road and the steep hills leading to it.

There are large hills leading away from the home. So, we roll start the truck? This works if you remember to turn on the ignition before you roll down the hill. My bad. I had to turn at approximately 1000 mph to avoid certain death. Figure 2.

These grey dots do nothing to give a sense of sheer panic when you hit the usually quite stiff brake pedal and nothing happens. 

I now have a dead truck on the side of the road at night. We are now worse off than before we started. We now walk home to get a second car to jump the truck off with. It works like a champ. Take the road that is less scary to the house with the ramp and back into the drive way. I was thinking up until this point. I then turn off the truck. In my defense, I am a dummy. Figure 3

See all that red? New shorts would be required after this second leg of the trip

 The other three then walk to where I am with the truck. We then man handle this thing over a chain link fence and down a drop off because this ramp is too big to go through tiny gate and down stairs of death. We eventually get the thing into the back of the truck. I then have to walk back to where the car with the jumper cables was left and bring it to join the truck. I then can start the process in reverse. Uncle Brett agrees to drive the car back. Sitting in the now running truck alone with my thoughts, I know that nearly the entire way is uphill and will have to get up a head of steam somewhere early on in the return trip. I choose the lower road as there is a bit of down hill before I have to go straight up to The HOME. I attempt this in first gear. I don't even make it up the first hill. I have to roll back down, perilously close to THE ROAD OF DEATH, and retry in second gear. This works and I make it to the green portion of the map and floor it. I go around the corner at full throttle, up the hill to our circle, make the left at a kajillion mph and then into my driveway and carport at mock 2.

That not making it up that first hill caused me to possibly overcompensate for the rest of the journey. 

The ramp then gets unloaded, the boys go in and get in there pi's and go to bed dreaming of sweet tricks. I am a hero. All is well. Another job well done (the hard way) by Mr. Brett and myself.

Fathers day is just around the corner. 

The next morning....
I take the little ones to their school and head off to teach my classes. I get a text message that simply says "call." Anyone who has ever gotten this text message knows that it is rarely the harbinger of hope. Mr. Fabulous had 30 minutes to kill before leaving for school so, he decided to try out the big ramp.  After getting out of the shower The Supermodel heard a rapping, tapping on her chamber door.

We have an streak going on "days since and ER trip."    
Nevermore....

His top lip was split open and attached semi-permantly to his orthodontic appliance. He got his lip caught on his braces and had to have his mother extricate it. No bassoon for a week but no ER trip either.

If you want to come do some sweet tricks with them though, bring your board.

UPDATE: I MEANT TO ADD THAT IT WAS ALSO SCHOOL PICTURE DAY