Friday, August 6, 2010

The Hero of a Car in Distress


People generally enjoy quests—they’re fun, riveting, fraught with danger, even nifty. Tyler Kieslich, a senior at Lakota East High, went on such a quest…that was somewhat fun, possibly riveting, not really too fraught with danger. Kieslich went on a quest to rescue his car in distress.

Kieslich went out with a bunch of friends to Cliffton, a nearby town, in the middle of Feb. at 1 a.m., Kieslich and his crew arrived at a snow ridden grass lot. “Everyone parks there,” according to Kieslich, so he saw no problem. What he didn’t know was that the fence on the edge of the lot was the home of a “no parking” sign. However, that sign and fence had fallen long ago, buried beneath the snow.

So, Kieslich parked his beloved car, positive that it wouldn’t be kidnapped by the city, but once he and his friends returned at 3 a.m., the unthinkable happened—the city towed his car.

“There was this sinking feeling,” Kieslich said. “My friend said ‘Wouldn’t it be funny if your car got towed?’ I told him, ‘No, no it wouldn’t.’”

It was funny, well, to his friend at least, but Kieslich wasn’t laughing. He was frantic.

Ah ha! Must find the impound lot.

“Alright, now get it home. Just take it in segments,” Kieslich said, his arms jutting out.

He and his friends trekked to the nearby Shell station.

“Of course it was closed,” Kieslich said. “We were freezing.”

The bitter winds nipped at Kieslich’s skin. How ever could he save his car in distress? All hope seemed lost.

Oh, but an idea sprung forth: call the towing company. Brilliant!

They got the number, but no one answered, so, Kieslich summoned the nearest group of friends to hitch a ride. They were 20 minutes away. It was 20 degrees outside.

His friends arrived and Kieslich, desperate to get his car back, asked to be driven to the impound lot. No one was there. Things started to look bleak for Kieslich and his car, at least for the night, but he had one more option: a ha, call the tow truck driver.

Now, he could get his car back, that is, if he paid $120. This presented yet another dilemma in Kieslich’s crusade to rescue his car—Mom. His mother gave him a debit card, but if he used his debit card she would be aware of his late night excursion. Oh, the horror! Ah, but he had yet another solution. He went to the ATM and withdrew $120 from his account. Reunited with his car, he returned home at 6 a.m.

“I thought I was in the clear,” Kieslich said. And he was, for the time being. His mother didn’t question him.

But, Mom soon sniffed something amiss, when she discovered $120 missing from his account.

“Tyler dear, I was looking at your bank statement,” Mom said, calling Kieslich on his cell, “Why did you withdraw $120 at 3 a.m. from an ATM in Cliffton?”

Busted. Alas, the fated hero Kieslich answered his mother nobly.

“Uh,” Kieslich said.

“Tyler?” Mom said.

Ah, how could I lie to her? This should be simple.

“Erm, my car was towed and I had to pay for it,” Tyler said, defeated. He’d fought

nobly, but he could not deceive mom. She was a worthy foe, but lying is so. . . undignified.

“What were you doing in Cliffton?” Mom persisted.

“Nothing,” Kieslich said.

“What were you doing in Cliffton?” Mom growled. “Tyler?”

“I-I was just with some friends,” Kieslich surrendered. “It’s nothing.”


“It was nothing. I took care of it, so it’s all good now.”


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