Some friends and I went to the park recently, and Alex, one of the friends who came along brought a remote control car. It’s one of those old cars that just have one button on the remote. So when you on the car with the switch at the bottom, it’ll start driving backwards and going in a donut. Then when you press the button, it’ll start going straight and forward.
At one point during the hangout at the park, my other friend Chandler was controlling the car, and Alex was running around with it. Then he jumped over it as it was racing toward him, but Chandler stopped the car not knowing Alex was going to jump over the car, and so Alex jumped onto the car itself.
After putting the batteries in the right way, it wouldn’t work. I took it up, examined it for a while, and exclaimed, “I think it’s broken!”
Yeah, that’s me pretending to be stupid.
“Yes, Jasper, we know it’s broken. But do you know why?”
“No, it’s just broken.”
I wanted to take it apart right there on the spot, but the only screwdriver I had was attached to a pole concreted to the ground and it was too big.
So after we found out we couldn’t fix it until I got home, we started blaming people. Alex blamed Chandler, Chandler blamed Alex, and I blamed all three of us. Alex said he “landed on the car,” but I think he deliberately jumped on it, which was why it was partly his fault. Chandler stopped it while Alex was in mid-air, which was why it was partly his fault. And what did I do? Nothing. I just sat there and watched. I could have said something like, “Hey, watch out” or “That’s not a very good idea.”
So there are three morals to this story, one for each person who was or was not involved in the accident. For Chandler: Don’t drive like my brother. For Alex: Don’t try those stunts you intended to do. For me: always keep a Swiss Army knife with you.
This story is partly true, but there were some changes made.