Friday nights in the summer always involved me and my one friend going to a local bar. It was about 2 miles away; too far to walk and I certainly wouldn't drive. So I took the old moped that floated around town, which had come to stay at my house.
I worked two jobs all summer, so Friday night I was physically exhausted yet ready to drink. We put down an 18 pack before we go to the bar (we're both fairly sized men, and good drinkers). We get to the bar where I order 64oz pitchers and simply drink from the pitcher.
After a few hours I am about half done with my third pitcher (maybe 25 beers deep, for those keeping count). My friend decides to ride his bicycle home, and I resolve to finish my pitcher, wrap up the drunken conversations I've started, and leave after that.
So, about 3:30am I put the pitcher on the bar and walk outside to my small moped. This moped goes about 25mph, is licensed to drive on the street, and is almost 30 years old. I go to put my leg over the bike and prepare to ride, but instead I stumble and knock the bike over as I fall to the ground.
Ok, gather my things, pick the bike up, get it running and pull out of the bar to the first stoplight. Now this is a small town, and there is no one out. The sensor doesn't register my size while I wait for the light, so after waiting for minutes, I just go through the light. Next, a stop sign, where I almost fall down. I decide to blow the remaining stop signs on the way home and just go.
While the road is probably 20 feet wide, and there is nobody else out, I still can't stay on the road. I swerve uncontrollably, driving on sidewalks and lawns. Miraculously, I don't crash, but keep going all the way home.
I come to a stop in my driveway, put my feet down and fall over. I hit my head (with helmet) and pass out on the ground, with the bike still running, lying on top of me.
By now it is nearly 4am and my father will be getting up to go fishing in about 30 minutes. I wake up an hour later, still lying with the bike on top of me, with the motor off, and my father's truck gone.
When I wake up about 12 hours later, I go outside to look at the moped. I had broken the light and bent the license plate and dripped oil all over the moped. My father is in the garage and nonchalantly asks what happened to the bike. I feign ignorance, grab a wrench, and start repairing. He never asked another question and we never talked about it again.