A tendency to show my ass

The suburban was on its last leg, and I was driving back and forth from Charleston to the mountains, and really needed a different car before I found myself stranded on the Blue Ridge. The day finally came. The suburban was done, and I really had to figure something out quick. At the time, my wife and I were as poor as we have ever been, and I hope to not revisit those days. We didn’t have the money to go out and buy a car. I called the funeral home and asked my dad, “Hey man, you wouldn’t have a hearse laying around I could drive, would you?” Fortunately for me there weren’t too many people interested in buying hearses, and we indeed did have a hearse that the funeral home was looking to get rid of.

A match was made, and it was almost as if the vehicle was meant to have someone lying in the back of it. It was perfect for what I needed, and I am forever grateful that it worked out. Now, that said, the hearse and I had some interesting times. The hearse had been sitting for a little while, and it got a little bit of a tune up when I picked it up. Of course, on the way home from Arkansas to Charleston I ran into a massive snowstorm up on eagle pass and found out that the old girl was ready for the adventure. A week or so into driving the hearse I noticed that I got some strange looks from time to time, but I’m not the type to really mind that. What I did mind however was what happened while I was stuck in traffic on my way to some redfish flats.

I was crossing the famous Ravenel bridge out of Charleston, and traffic was heavy. It was warm outside, and I suppose the engine warmed up a little bit, but I don’t think it was overheating. Suddenly there was smoke, and not a little smoke but like a billowing cloud of smoke rolling out of the car. The people behind me found this to be quite hilarious. I was a little panicked, because I didn’t want to burn up in a car fire on a bridge and become another news story. I made it to the bottom of the bridge. I popped the monstrous hood, and there is absolutely no evidence for the smoke. After not finding a cause for the smoke I just shut the hood and headed about my day. I suspect that there was some sort of nest in the engine compartment that burned, but I can’t confirm or deny that.

As you can imagine, people that I would meet on the river to fish with had mixed thoughts about the hearse. The fly shop guys loved it as they should, but the clients were hit or miss. One particularly bad part about driving a noticeable car around was that I didn’t have any privacy. Everyone knew exactly where I was fishing and took advantage of that from time to time. I started hiking far away from where I parked to scout, and I know that there were several other fishy dudes that had the same problem in that area.

So… Right after getting the hearse, I had a guide trip in my regular fishing area in the Pisgah National Forest. I was excited to try out my new camper van. I could load that thing down. Rigged rods, double wide sleeping bag, boxes and boxes of flies, leaders, camping gear, cooking gear, and everything else that I could ever need. I made my way to my typical sleeping spot, which was a parking lot at a hatchery on the Davidson River. The parking lot was a suitable place to meet people to go fishing, and it was a good central location if I needed to fish a different river on that side of the ridge. Another positive about that parking lot was that it was available for people that wanted to camp in the forest in that area. I could sleep there and not have to worry about being bothered in the middle of the night or being asked to leave. The hearse still had all the curtains in it too so I could turn the back into a little cave.

One thing that doesn’t come to mind but makes complete sense about hearses is that they do not have door handles on the inside in the back. Well at least the one that I had didn’t. I had discovered this right before bed, and with a full belly and a busy morning ahead, I didn’t worry too much about leaving the door cracked open. What I didn’t expect was that a pretty serious wind storm was going to come along and shut the door on me in the middle of the night. I did hear the door shut, but I decided that it was a tomorrow issue. I woke up a little later than usual partially due to the storm and partially due to the late morning trip. I was quite surprised to see that the parking lot was indeed booming at this time of the morning.

Now I have a complicated problem. I can’t get out of the car. I could start banging on the windows, but I don’t know if many people would come over and open the back door of a hearse if they heard yelling and banging coming from it.  So my option was this tiny sliding window that separated the front and the back of the hearse, and I’m going to emphasize TINY window. I definitely couldn’t get my shoulders through the window, but I could reach into the front some. I started moving my body around in different ways trying to figure out a way to open the passenger door. I don’t really know what I thought I was going to do once the door was open, but it was almost possible so why not?

After quite a struggle to reach the door handle, I had made it halfway into the front part of the hearse. I was worried that I might break something or get stuck, but I kept wiggling and went for it. I did make it through the tiny window, but at a cost. As I was falling from the back into the front of the hearse two things happened. First, was I shot my arm out to brace myself, and it landed directly on the horn. I bet you didn’t know this but that particular hearse had a serious air horn. My hopes of doing this quietly and without being noticed were gone. The second thing that happened was that the window was so small that as I went through it…my pants were pulled down.

So here I am in a white 92’ Cadillac Hearse. The horn is blaring a sound that could wake the dead. My pants are pulled down. The parking lot is full of people, and to top it all off my hind parts have been pressed up against the passenger side window. So much for being inconspicuous. I didn’t think too many people had noticed until I was in the fly shop a week later.

“Hey man, I hear you have a tendency to show your ass.”