Hands On
there is no reason why anyone would ever travel to my hometown
(affectionately known as "the car trading capital of
southeast texas"). boredom is rampant--it convinces people to do
stupid things like tip over cows, play "chicken" with oncoming trains, peel out of
parking lots, lay in the street at 2am... but once a year, during the summer,
one of the car dealerships in town would host something called a "hands-on contest".
high school sports worship rules most small texas towns during the school year
but in the summertime there is nothing but crickets and heat and the promise
of another football season. so for a few summers, the
biggest car dealership in town would hold a contest for people to come
and stand with their hands on a car. whoever can stand there the longest will win
the car. and let's get something straight, it wasn't a car, it was a
truck. because a truck is the gold standard for transportation in
southeast texas. the citizens of the "car trading capital of southeast
texas" might have competed for a car, but nothing induces fervent
competition like a free truck.
the contest was a hotbed of social activity. the local country radio
station would broadcast live. vendors would sell food, people would
sit and watch the contestants ache through the day and night. a luminous
spotlight blasted into the night sky--you could see it from my house.
i begged my parents to drive us to the dealership, just so i could see
that incredible light source.
the contestants were rockstars of the night--authoritative headliners.
friends and family would stand by them, bringing them relief in the form of food,
conversation, encouragement... they were filmed by the local news crew and children bounced
around in the background, begging to be on television for any amount of time.
everyone wanted to be a part of the success, to have some small role in winning
this truck decorated with the smeared hand prints of others who they
smashed in battle.
we went to the dealership but we never stayed long. my parents hated the loud
country music and all the cigarettes being smoked. my mom was wildly skeptical
of anyone who would sell food cooked on a flat bed trailer. my sister
and i would scour for our classmates who were all quite skilled at ignoring us,
and that was fine because i'd much rather stare at the spotlight and wonder if it could
be seen all the way to HOUSTON where the skyscrapers and clover-leaf interchanges
promised to wait for me to finish school in my country music-loving hometown.
"i can't stand that ol' country music" my dad would always say, his tone
pouring out with disgust. "i never understood who could listen to
that crap. it's just silly crap." i returned home and waited to hear about a winner.
i didn't truly understand how absurd the contest was until i heard,
three days later, that a winner had finally been crowned. and it was
a woman, and she was so worn out from standing that she
couldn't even drive the truck home on her own. i thought to myself
"she couldn't press the pedals?" and while that may be true, it's also
true that no one should be allowed to drive after being awake for 72
hours.
my town stopped having these contests when the local paper mill
economy tanked. the car dealership could barely afford to
stay open, so there would be no "free" truck for which the locals could
compete. a couple of solid hurricanes later, and my hometown almost
appears abandoned (the fast food establishments and baptist churches
stand in defiance of this theory). these contests have mostly stopped
since a sleep deprived, unsuccessful contestant in a nearby town broke
into a k-mart across the street from the contest where he had just lost in
middle of the night. he went straight to the firearms section, loaded a
rifle and committed suicide--a sobering reminder that the reality theater
the spectators craved in those boring summer days could actually come
at a price.
(affectionately known as "the car trading capital of
southeast texas"). boredom is rampant--it convinces people to do
stupid things like tip over cows, play "chicken" with oncoming trains, peel out of
parking lots, lay in the street at 2am... but once a year, during the summer,
one of the car dealerships in town would host something called a "hands-on contest".
high school sports worship rules most small texas towns during the school year
but in the summertime there is nothing but crickets and heat and the promise
of another football season. so for a few summers, the
biggest car dealership in town would hold a contest for people to come
and stand with their hands on a car. whoever can stand there the longest will win
the car. and let's get something straight, it wasn't a car, it was a
truck. because a truck is the gold standard for transportation in
southeast texas. the citizens of the "car trading capital of southeast
texas" might have competed for a car, but nothing induces fervent
competition like a free truck.
the contest was a hotbed of social activity. the local country radio
station would broadcast live. vendors would sell food, people would
sit and watch the contestants ache through the day and night. a luminous
spotlight blasted into the night sky--you could see it from my house.
i begged my parents to drive us to the dealership, just so i could see
that incredible light source.
the contestants were rockstars of the night--authoritative headliners.
friends and family would stand by them, bringing them relief in the form of food,
conversation, encouragement... they were filmed by the local news crew and children bounced
around in the background, begging to be on television for any amount of time.
everyone wanted to be a part of the success, to have some small role in winning
this truck decorated with the smeared hand prints of others who they
smashed in battle.
we went to the dealership but we never stayed long. my parents hated the loud
country music and all the cigarettes being smoked. my mom was wildly skeptical
of anyone who would sell food cooked on a flat bed trailer. my sister
and i would scour for our classmates who were all quite skilled at ignoring us,
and that was fine because i'd much rather stare at the spotlight and wonder if it could
be seen all the way to HOUSTON where the skyscrapers and clover-leaf interchanges
promised to wait for me to finish school in my country music-loving hometown.
"i can't stand that ol' country music" my dad would always say, his tone
pouring out with disgust. "i never understood who could listen to
that crap. it's just silly crap." i returned home and waited to hear about a winner.
i didn't truly understand how absurd the contest was until i heard,
three days later, that a winner had finally been crowned. and it was
a woman, and she was so worn out from standing that she
couldn't even drive the truck home on her own. i thought to myself
"she couldn't press the pedals?" and while that may be true, it's also
true that no one should be allowed to drive after being awake for 72
hours.
my town stopped having these contests when the local paper mill
economy tanked. the car dealership could barely afford to
stay open, so there would be no "free" truck for which the locals could
compete. a couple of solid hurricanes later, and my hometown almost
appears abandoned (the fast food establishments and baptist churches
stand in defiance of this theory). these contests have mostly stopped
since a sleep deprived, unsuccessful contestant in a nearby town broke
into a k-mart across the street from the contest where he had just lost in
middle of the night. he went straight to the firearms section, loaded a
rifle and committed suicide--a sobering reminder that the reality theater
the spectators craved in those boring summer days could actually come
at a price.