“WE’RE GOING TO DIE!”
I swear to God I smelled smoke.
My sister revved the engine, but the car went nowhere. I was the youngest, sitting in the backseat, unable to see a thing out the back windows.
“We are not going to die,” someone said pleasantly that was not my sister. She was busy turning the steering wheel and moving the car from forward to reverse with no result.
“YES WE ARE! I SMELL SMOKE! THE ENGINE IS GOING TO EXPLODE!”
A few days (or weeks, I can’t be sure) I had seen Beverly Hills Cop. In the movie, two cops are tailing Eddie Murphy’s character, Axel Foley, outside the hotel he is staying. Some how, Axel is successful in distracting the police officers while stuffing bananas in the tailpipe of their car. When finally noticing Axel getting away, they start the ignition and began pursuit, only to have their engine explode within a few moments. This is what I believed had happened. Somehow, Axel Foley had entered our reality, Last Action Hero Style, traveled to Peoria, followed my mother’s car to remote apartments atop a huge hill behind Kroger, stuffed the tail pipe with bananas, causing the engine to explode.
To tell me otherwise was an impossibility.
“WE’RE GOING TO DIE!” I repeated. “WE HAVE TO GET OUT BEFORE THE ENGINE EXPLODES.”
No one wanted to step out into the rain. Eventually, my sister put the car in park and opened her door. Everyone followed suit.
Rather than a tail pipe filled with banana, the car sat atop a mound of sand, dirt, and gravel. Each of the four wheels barely touched the ground, explaining thy the car did not move with the revving of the engine,
I was relieved, but how where we going to keep this secret from our parents in the same manner as before?