In April of 1986, my best friend, Pam, and her family invited me to go with them to Palm Springs for spring break. I don’t think I’d ever been to Palm Springs before, but spending a whole week away with my best friend sounded way better then hangin’ out in the ’sades solo. In addition to inviting me, Pam’s younger sister, Cheryl, brought along a friend, too. Now, bear in mind, this was a LONG time ago, and I am a little sketchy on the finer points of the trip, but I think Cheryl brought her friend Michelle. Regardless, aside from the parents, our group consisted of four girls between the ages of 14 and 15. Like most teenage girls, our excitement could not possibly be contained, much to the displeasure of Pam’s mom who drove us there (Pam’s dad, on the other hand, was smart and rode his motorcycle). We may have even made signs to put on the car that said “Palm Springs or Bust!” Although it’s entirely possible that I may be confusing this trip with another trip Pam and I took to Palm Springs when we were in college, which as you can imagine, was not parentally supervised and a whole different experience entirely.
ANYgirlsgonewild:springbreakcollegeco-edsexposed, I have absolutely no other recollection of this trip aside from (a.) discovering the intoxicating scent of Arizona Sun body lotion, and (b.) the now infamous Golf Cart Incident. Pam’s parent’s Palm Springs home was on a beautiful, sprawling golf course (aren’t they all?) which was the center of a mini-metropolis that consisted of the golf course, homes scattered along the edge of the course, and a labyrinth of roads that connected them to each other. It was huge, but at the same time, it was an insular, private community so we were allowed to go exploring on our own without the ‘rents having to worry.
For reasons that can only be fully appreciated by teenagers who don’t have a driver’s license, one of the main attractions was the family golf cart. Since none of us were even old enough to drive, although I think Pam may have had her learner’s permit by then, we were giddy with excitement when we were allowed to take the golf cart out for a spin. We had to have been breaking at least five rules of golf cart operation as we pulled out of the garage. Four unlicensed, underage girls all crammed into one golf cart, designed to seat only two, screaming and laughing their heads off while traveling at very high rates of speed. I distinctly remember whizzing past an older gentleman hosing off his truck, as he yelled at us to slow down. Silly man, like that’s going to stop us!
Of course we all wanted a turn at the wheel, so we did slow down and stop EVENTUALLY, but only long enough for the person next to the driver to scoot over a spot and off we’d go again. Now, I don’t remember whose turn it was to drive, nor do I remember how many times we had executed a flawless Chinese fire drill, but when the next person tried the gas pedal, nothing happened. “Uh oh,” was the general consensus. The fact that we knew little about driving in general put us at a huge disadvantage. All we knew was pressing the gas made the cart go, and applying the brakes made the cart stop. Oh, and turning the wheel would change the cart’s trajectory. So, when the cart just stopped working, the four of us, as brilliant as we may have been, couldn’t figure out (a.) why the cart no longer worked, or (b.) how to fix the cart. We only had one option, to get out and push.
The approximate area where Jesus lost his last sandal.
Now, if you’ve ever been to Palm Springs in April, you are undoubtedly aware that the average temperature is comparable to the temperature on the surface of the sun. And there we were, blacktop as far as the eye could see and in every direction, somewhere between really far away from Pam’s house and where Jesus lost his last sandal. To add to the desperation of our situation, we had no water, no hats or sun block, and I am pretty sure we were all wearing flip flops. To say we were ill-equipped to push a thousand-pound hunk of metal would be the understatement of the 80s. The last person we had seen was the old man and the hose, and that was a while back, so there wasn’t anyone around for us to ask for assistance, either. Surrounded by houses on every side, we were still all alone. I can’t speak for the other girls but, I know I wanted to cry.
Holding back tears, and resisting the urge to assign any blame, we pushed. We pushed and pushed for a very long time. Had cell phones been invented, having one at that very moment would’ve been exceedingly helpful. Mere seconds before we all passed out due to heat stroke, we either made it back to the homestead or someone came along and finally helped us. I was too delirious to notice or really even care about the exact details of our rescue. I just knew that I had never wanted an iced tea more in my entire life than I did immediately after help arrived. And I don’t even LIKE iced tea!
But, wait. Here’s the real kicker: whoever it was that saved us from dying a slow, painful death on the asphalt road to Hell, (it could’ve been Prince AND the Revolution for all I can remember, but I’m thinking it was probably Pam’s dad) immediately pointed out the obvious cause of all our troubles. How were we supposed to know that golf carts had KEYS?!? And, if they’re going to all the fuss to put in an ignition, they why not place it on or near the steering column? What kind of IDIOT puts the key slot UNDER THE SEAT?!? Who is even going to look for it there? And do you know WHY it’s a poor location? Because someone might accidentally bump the key into the “off” position while scooting over to let the passenger drive! My God, people who design golf carts, how could you’ve NOT thought of that?!? You thought of cup holders and a mini-clipboard to secure a golf score card, for crying out loud! Oh, and, here’s an idea: what about a SIGN somewhere, anywhere in the line of sight of the driver or the passenger, that indicates where the ignition is LOCATED?!? You people obviously had the forethought to place a sign that reads, “Avoid sudden, sharp turns!” on the dashboard, why not there? WHY?!?
So, basically, we pushed a perfectly drivable golf cart through the scorching heat of the high desert because none of us knew about the key. And THAT, my friends, is hilarious.
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