Me vs. The Generator

A first hand view of one man's drunken battle against a diesel powered generator - by Erick "Elf" Hildebrandt.

It was a typical Saturday night before the running of the Indianapolis 500. Chaos was ensuing in every corner of the camping lot behind the American Legion Post 500. One could gaze just beyond the Legion and see the lights of the Pagoda at the start finish line of the Indianapolis Motor Speedway and soak in the cool night air that only comes in May in the Midwest. As I continued to scan the scene in front of me I could only think to myself, "Man this has been an Indy to remember."

This was 2000 and it was the year of Tyrone the Human Wrecking Ball, the Paddywagon and Jabo's Dissapearance Downtown. Truly what a year this had been, as I surveyed the scene in front of me I noticed a few things. There sat Tyrone still trying to recover from his drunken state from 48 hours prior, probably still thinking of peanut butter cookies. There was Arvai, laughing his ass off at anything anyone said that was remotely funny. Ahh Peyton, doing what Peyton does so eloquently, complimenting the trashiest woman he could find on how beautiful her eyes were. Gabe appeared to be drawing on some piece of paper on a easel attached to a wagon some guy was pulling around, I still to this day don't understand what this guy was doing but I just remember him telling Gabe to "Just let your artistic nature go man". This man was unaware however that the only artistic nature Gabe was drawing was some T and A and a big hairy shank.

Amidst all this a noise was growing louder in my ears, what was this damn noise that was driving me to drink, oh wait I was already drinking, shall I say, reverberating in my ears the same as listening to Caroline Fife tell me how we are all racist hillbillies. Could this noise be from Pat Allen's tent? No it wasn't the sound of a 16 year old female in distress. Was it the sound of Jeff Mallue insulting all who dared pass, no it wasn't that and in any case that shit is funny.

As I looked around my eyes honed in on the source of this insulting drone, a bright beacon of light in a veritable sea of darkness, a diesel powered generator/light stand. My mind reverted back to that of my high school youth, I must destroy the offender, no matter how I rationalized it in my mind it must pay. I felt my legs carrying me toward the generator to perform my evil deeds, the generator grew louder as I approached, daring me to attack. I ignored the call of "Hey Elf, what the f&%k are you doing?" that seemed to come from the direction on Jason LeForge and Steve Camp. On I continued paying no mind to these do-gooders.

As I arrived to confront my oppressor it just continued rumbling on louder and louder, I MUST STOP THIS! In one swoop my left hand opened the service door to expose the heart and soul of the evil machine, quickly I surveyed my opponent and found it's weak spot, the oil service cap for the crankcase. I've found a way to defeat it, my mind was a whirl of destructive thoughts, what shall be the tools of my destruction?

The beer in my right hand should do the job, in a flash I had popped open the crankcase and was pouring my beer into the engine. On it ran however with not so much as a hiccup, this was one tough customer, I must change tactics. Quickly I found the throttle control lever attached to the governor. No engine will survive beer in place of oil and my left hand over-speeding the engine by about 4000 RPM. I grabbed it and pulled, the engine raced, more beer I need more beer, I continued to pour, the engine screamed in determined agony, it would not die!

I began to gain a respect for my adversary, my mind quickly changed to if I can't beat the SOB I'll join it. At this point the generator and I began to share my drink as I proclaimed, "One for me one for you". It told me how it was built on the Cummins Assembly Line in Columbus, IN and I told it about the time me and my buddies in the service drained the oil out of a Mercury Lynx and put a brick on the accelerator and watched the engine blow. We both had a laugh and I thought, "I'll agree to leave you in peace generator but a word of advice, don't let Pat Allen approach you with any phallic symbols".

It was then we parted ways, as I turned around I found a large group of people laughing their ass off at my shenanigans and my only thought was, hey somebody get me a beer.