It has always been my opinion that too much of a good thing is never advisable. Too many rides on the Zipper at the carnival can make you sick for the rest of the day as will too many hotdogs or pieces of pizza. After four days, relatives staying at my house begin to become annoying because they are in my space. Too much of a good thing. This is why I have my own office, or as I like to call it, The Laboratory for Creative Ideas. I can be around my wife Cheryl for a short amount of time before my adorable, sarcastic, small-talk drives her up the wall and she shouts, “Get out of here. Go to your office!”
Obviously, I’m too much of a good thing.
But this all brings me to the story of my cousin, Greg.
Greg is about five years older than me and lives in Anacortes, Washington at the base of Mount Erie. He, and his siblings are my second cousins and we have visited many times in each of my 70 years.
I guess, what Greg is known for in Anacortes is the famous Alumi-bob four-man bobsled which he and a friend built for speed trials on the snowy Mount Erie road. He was also an avid hang glider who flew many flights off the top of the mountain, and he participated in model hydroplane races on Lake Erie with the high school hydroplane club. As a businessman, he is known for operating the Dunton Autobody Shop which he took over from his dad.
Running a business where he and his crew pride themselves on the quality of their work and the vehicles which they all drive, it is no wonder that when Greg drives his 2010 Volvo C30 sports car around town, he makes sure that it is looking good, inside and out. But you must remember that always driving a pristine sports car can sooner or later become too much of a good thing which is what he found out last year on a warm sunny summer day.
One of his friends that he has known forever, Steve (Fitter) Latham, called him up with this proposition: “I want to pick up some honey in the valley. How about we drive there in your C30 and get the honey and I will buy you lunch.”
Well, this sounded like a great drive for a sunny summer day, so Greg drove the two-door hatchback C30 over and picked Fitter up.
“How much honey do you need,? A jar?” Greg asked.
“No,” Fitter said. “I need to pick up five gallons for the brewery in town. They are brewing honey beer.
It was an enjoyable thirty-minute drive to the honey farm; the windows were open, and the car stereo was cranking the tunes. When they stopped, Fitter got out of the car and went inside where the beekeepers had a five-gallon bucket of honey waiting for him. He paid the shop $200.00 and then carried, with much difficulty, the bucket back out to the car. Greg had opened the hatchback, and the bucket was set in the small storage area behind the rear seats. Easy peasy. Now it was time for lunch. They decided to follow the winding road along the river to the café.
Perhaps Greg was taking the winding road too fast. I mean, the C30 could be used as a drift car, but as they rocked back and forth in their seats, Fitter happened to mention, “Oh yah, I wanted to stop at my sister’s house.”
“Where does she live?” Greg asked.
“Right there,” Fitter pointed.
Greg slammed on the brakes and swerved into the driveway.
The sound that was heard next will haunt him until the day he dies. It was the sound of a five-gallon bucket tipping over in the back of his car. But not only did it tip over, but the lid, which should have been attached securely, popped off. Both Greg and Fitter turned around to see five gallons, or $200.00 worth of wildflower honey running down the back of the interior and filling the floor wells two inches deep.
It is hard to say what conversation took place in the car at that moment and since I don’t want to heavily redact words from my story, we will leave it to your imagination.
Turning around and driving back to the beekeepers, Fitter told them the sad story, and sympathizing, they offered to refill the bucket for free. He gave them another $100.00, thanked them and left the shop in his sticky shoes. Then, believe it or not, they went to lunch anyway.
Of course, after lunch on a warm sunny summer day what did you expect that they would find after they got back to the car but honeybees swarming to get inside. Highway SR 20 has an average speed limit of 55 mph. The C30 finally outran the swarm at 65. Other drivers thought the car was burning oil and leaving a cloud. Nope, it was bees.
Slowing only momentarily to drop the honey off at the brewery and Fitter off at his home, Greg sped back to his shop remembering the hundreds of times in his life that he has had to remove seats and flooring from damaged vehicles. How fast could he possibly gut his car before the swarm found him?
Drifting his car off the Sharpe Road into his driveway, he skidded to a stop on a crushed rock parking spot in front of his garage. He pulled open the rear doors and opened the hatch. He then removed the rear seats and pulled out the carpeting. On the bottom of the floor well were drain plugs which he pulled out. The two inches of honey slowly began to run out onto the gravel. Next, he hooked a garden hose to his home hot water heater and began hosing down the floor mats and the interior of the car. Every nook and cranny had honey in it. Wiring bundles and connectors were coated. It took four complete tanks of hot water and several shampooings of the floor mats to get rid of the stickiness and the smell.
Unfortunately, the aftermath of the honey incident has plagued Greg to this day. Someone bought a decal from the Honey Bucket outhouse company and stuck it on the back window of his car. Drive-by hecklers yell, “Hey, honey!” The gravel area of his driveway where the honey dripped has been sterilized of vegetation. Who knew you could use it for a herbicide? There are a lot more bees around his house now and sugar ants have become a problem.
The only highlight of the whole mess is that the town now has a custom brewed honey beer that’s called The C30.
A small jar of honey in your cupboard is just right for spreading on your toast. Five gallons of that same honey, all over your car, is really too much of a good thing.
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