In the early mornings, at times, the teen daughter and I drop off the boys and head to Mickey D’s. She likes the expensive coffee drinks. I have sworn off caffeine, for now. I digress. One fine morning said teen and I were driving to our destination when I noticed that I was low on gasoline. We decided we had time to go by Sam’s, which is directly across the street from McDonalds.

I turned left at the light and then turned left again to approach the pumps. The morning attendant is usually pretty nice so we drive by him and I give a little wave. There are several cones at various pumps. I pull up right behind a bright orange cone and hop out to pump my gas. Teen is busy on the phone but she is proficient at whisking the debit card out of my pocketbook. I might need to be worried about that in the future, but for now it is helpful.

I pump the gas, talk to the elderly man across at the next pump, grab my receipt and hop back in the car. She files the receipt and debit card as I buckle up. I put the pathfinder into gear and roar off (not roar really, but give it the gas). Immediately we hear a clunk, clunk, ssssskssksking sound. I look at the teen and she looks at me.

Intelligence dawns. “Oh, moooommmm you ran over the cone!” she wails. She scoots a little further down in the seat.

“Are you sure?”  She nods.

The way our Sam’s is designed it is a one-way in and we all exit to the right. I decided that I would keep going until I exited the pumps and got back to the attendants little house. I turned and that dad blame cone started screeching and singing for all it was worth. It was hooked under the back bumper. The other gas-getters started laughing and waving. I guess they thought I didn’t know I was dragging the large orange cone. I kept going. Teen was so mortified she paused in her texting to gasp.

Wouldn’t you know it, right as I stopped by the attendant’s little house, the cone popped out. I put the car in park and the teen stage-whispered, “What are you doing?” I looked at her and replied, “I am going to get out and take the cone back to the pump.”

She slid further down her seat and mumbled, “Oh, mother, please don’t.” Well, I did.

When I picked up the cone, I looked up and a man was at the pump where the cone had been. I yelled across at him, “Sir!, Sir!, That pump doesn’t work! I have the cone!” I trotted over to him as he was inserting his debit card. He pushed it in and glory be, the pump worked. He gave me a tight little victory smile and I gently placed the pump by his back bumper and retreated to my own vehicle.

On the way back to my vehicle a lady apologized for laughing at me. I waved her off with a smile and looked up and there at pump number 24 was the boy’s football coach. He was trying not to notice me so I hollered at him and waved. He waved back and ducked his head. The others were all smiling and laughing as I got to my car. I hollered over my shoulder, “You all know that a little ol’ cone can’t get me down today.” One clapped and I shut the door.

The teen and I looked at each other and burst out laughing. “Oh, mom, you dragged that cone all over the gas station.” She began texting as fast as she could. She took a selfie of us laughing and commenced to text.

We got the coffee, and laughed all the way to the High School. I am surprised her phone didn’t burst into flames as fast as she was texting her friends.

Isn’t it great when our screw-ups create opportunities to provide laughter for complete strangers?

All it takes is one big orange cone to make us remember that life can be fun AND if we can embarrass the teen in the same episode, then we have been well and truly blessed.

About Fawn Musick

Writings to make you Smile and Think. Fawn is an award winning newspaper columnist. She is an avid writer, blogger, and mom. Her advice comes from her years of mothering her eight children.
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1 Response to Coneheads

  1. Maggie Musick says:

    Love this!!


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