Famous Last Words...

Words that from the moment they leave your lips you're praying to rewind the situation 5 seconds and swallow them. Instead, they come out, and your crash and burn sentence lives on in infamy. One such moment happened years ago in church with the lie: “We ride Harleys.” Let me start at the beginning. Earlier that week, my aunt who lives in Baker City, was going to be preaching at one of the churches in Elgin. I don't remember all the details (this was a long time ago, in BC—before children) but she wanted to conduct a test on how friendly the church was, and asked for our help. We listened wide-eyed as she explained that she wanted 2 new couples to attend. One wearing typical church attire, and the other acting as if they'd never stepped foot through the door of a church. We agreed, and the next weekend found my husband and I dressed in borrowed clothes, jewelry, and make-up. Harley dew rags covered our heads. My husband wore a jacket that smelled of cigarette smoke and a Harley t-shirt. I poured myself into a pair of jeans 2 sizes too small, and laced up “hooker boots” over the top. Some bright pink lipstick and a round mint can strategically placed to look like a skoal ring completed our outfits. I was about as fit to attend church as a dressed bride heading out to clean stalls. So over the river and through the woods, to the Elgin church we did go—in our nice warm pickup. Parking around the corner, we waiting until church had started, before we grabbed our helmets and headed in. A door greeter met us and asked if we needed to use the facilities. “Nope, we wanna go to church.” He looked a bit surprised, but pointed towards the doors of the sanctuary. As I stepped through the doors, my heart sank. The church was full. The only open pew was way up front. I could feel the stares burn through my shiny plastic/leather clothes as we paraded down the aisle. Hushed whispers followed us as we slid into the pew. My aunt had asked us to act like we'd never been in church before, so we fumbled through the hymnal during song service and stood awkwardly silent during the congregational reading. I flashed my hot pink smile any time someone glanced our way, but we never got a smile back. Then they reached a part in the program where it asked the people to turn and greet their neighbors. The people to the front, back and side of us ignored us, then a couple of guys in nice suits (and Harley ties) walked up from the back of the church, shook our hands and thats when we uttered words we wish we could have sucked back. “Good to see you,” one of the men said. “Harley guys?” “Yep, we ride Harleys.” Famous last lie. “Us too,” he gestured at his friends. “What do ya ride?” “Uhhh....?” I hadn't thought the day could have gotten more awkward. We both ride...but neither of us have even been on a Harley. Turns out they were a group of real Harley bikers. They were the only people friendly to us that day in church—at least until my aunt introduced us and explained her experiment. But it was a cringe-worthy, crash and burn moment etched into our memories forever. Recently we experienced another crash and burn moment—heavy on the crash. We were on our annual trip to the sand dunes, when we stopped for fuel. The 41 foot trailer made for a tight fit, but my husband got us parked and we fueled up. The corner to get out was sharp and surrounded with a 4 foot concrete wall. “Can we make this corner?” I cringed. “I have a CDL” my husband said, his words punctuated with a small crunching sound. Famous last words. Later that evening, around the fire, while looking at the ladder on our RV that was missing the bottom 4 feet, he sighed “Maybe I should have stuck to my farm endorsement!”