Your greatest Ah-Ha moment, everyone's had them...I know I have! Say a car has been tailing you too close for several miles, shining their brights in your rear view mirror...they speed past you nearly causing an accident, as you are relieved that they are long gone seeing their taillights disappear over the next hill, you're a little vexed that they behaved that way. Over the next hill you see flashing lights and realize that the state trooper has the car pulled over and writing them a citation...as you pass them by you say "Yep they got you mister!" you just had an Ah-Ha moment, I like to hear your greatest Ah-Ha moment!!
Your greatest AH-HA moment
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...oh garsh ma'am...tweren't nuttin'.....You're good!!
This has never happened to me. But there are many times I wish it had!
I've actually had that same thing happen in traffic! Karma's a b*tch!
at university. I was reading Geo-sciences (geology, paleontology, mineralogy and stuff like that when i met an archaeologist that went there for a short while. As soon as she mentioned Archaeology i saw that that is what i want to became. Hadn't really known that before.
...AH-HA!!!!....is usually what I say, when I once again have missed the entire point of what I did wrong, and my wife is explaining it to moi....
Had one like the opener...van...driving to beat all...passes me. Bye! Mile or two down the road the van is on side of the road...people...and kids...standing around the van...local property owner (I assume) standing there...one of the kids rubbing the top of his head. I'd say they were lucky, the van was upright...no blood...and I don't know exactly what happened but I hope she slowed down, for all concerned. The evidence in the ditch suggested she'd rolled...or bounced in and out?
This other time, we're in the yard at Hunter's Point, ready to haul arse and leave after a nineteen month...whoa...never thought about that before. But it was 19 months...an unusually long time...overhaul. The navy had closed Hunter's Point in '74 and the power-that-be decided it was prudent to deliver work to the San Francisco area...this was the time of Harvey Milk? Diane at city hall? Dirty Harry...where they filmed one scene outside the gate, worker lodgings. Anyway, we're lit up, boilers lit, we'd done a few sea trials, we're gonna head down to San Diego.
For whatever reason, they'd decided to move the Cook from the quay wall in front of us over across the way...we were further in. Go figure. Tug moves the Cook over, they release the lines, and the tug starts backing up to us...and doesn't stop. We don't know this...this is what we heard after...all we knew was the ship moved noticeably and then the voice over the 1MC, Flooding! Flooding! Flooding in the boiler room! Away the in-port damage control team...or maybe it was the underway damage control team. We're sitting in Combat...some are cheering...means more safe shore duty. They shifted ballast, made the Hepburn tilt toward the pier...fixed us without moving us into dry-dock. We left a week or two later...and all the while sailors from the Cook, over across the way took time out to moon us from the boat deck...we were both Knox-class fast frigates.
Fast forward months...six maybe. Underway...out of San Diego...I'm sitting in Combat monitoring a radio net...usually boring work but some traffic comes over the net, I stop day-dreaming and begin to copy down the message. Sierra Papa this is Whiskey Tango at time...blah blah blah. What happened is the Cook, on maneuvers with the Mars, smack-rammed into the side of the Mars and tweaked her nose...no one hurt...ship damaged, the equivalent of a fender-bender. Fog.
Have had a few others that I remember.
This other time, we're in the yard at Hunter's Point, ready to haul arse and leave after a nineteen month...whoa...never thought about that before. But it was 19 months...an unusually long time...overhaul. The navy had closed Hunter's Point in '74 and the power-that-be decided it was prudent to deliver work to the San Francisco area...this was the time of Harvey Milk? Diane at city hall? Dirty Harry...where they filmed one scene outside the gate, worker lodgings. Anyway, we're lit up, boilers lit, we'd done a few sea trials, we're gonna head down to San Diego.
For whatever reason, they'd decided to move the Cook from the quay wall in front of us over across the way...we were further in. Go figure. Tug moves the Cook over, they release the lines, and the tug starts backing up to us...and doesn't stop. We don't know this...this is what we heard after...all we knew was the ship moved noticeably and then the voice over the 1MC, Flooding! Flooding! Flooding in the boiler room! Away the in-port damage control team...or maybe it was the underway damage control team. We're sitting in Combat...some are cheering...means more safe shore duty. They shifted ballast, made the Hepburn tilt toward the pier...fixed us without moving us into dry-dock. We left a week or two later...and all the while sailors from the Cook, over across the way took time out to moon us from the boat deck...we were both Knox-class fast frigates.
Fast forward months...six maybe. Underway...out of San Diego...I'm sitting in Combat monitoring a radio net...usually boring work but some traffic comes over the net, I stop day-dreaming and begin to copy down the message. Sierra Papa this is Whiskey Tango at time...blah blah blah. What happened is the Cook, on maneuvers with the Mars, smack-rammed into the side of the Mars and tweaked her nose...no one hurt...ship damaged, the equivalent of a fender-bender. Fog.
Have had a few others that I remember.
Mine was a little different. I even remember the street I was on. I saw in the mirror where the car was darting through traffic, cutting people off, and as he pulled aside of me, then went forward, I resisted the urge to hit the accelerator and cut him off.
I thought, "This guy doesn't know me, I don't know him, and I'm letting him have an effect on how I drive, on how upset or mad I am. Who's got the power over how I feel here, him or me?"
And I backed off and just watched him keep being a jerk, and I was serene. I haven't driven the same since.
I thought, "This guy doesn't know me, I don't know him, and I'm letting him have an effect on how I drive, on how upset or mad I am. Who's got the power over how I feel here, him or me?"
And I backed off and just watched him keep being a jerk, and I was serene. I haven't driven the same since.
...bless your heart, I'm still a jerk behind the wheel, as the world's ONLY perfect wheelman...it has improved my vulgar vocabulary immensely though...
When I was young (many moons ago), I was driving my brand new Pinto home at night. I was a careful driver, and always did the speed limit back then. This idiot was tailgating me, and finally decided to pass me with a long blast on his horn. A couple of minutes later, I passed him! He was pulled over, with a police car behind him and getting a speeding ticket. I smugly smiled as I drove past doing the speed limit.
...I have been known to fire up the CB in my Jeep and call in pedal hogs...
Several years ago my daughter brought home a girl her age to play. She was the new minister's daughter, they had just moved here and I hadn't had a chance to meet these people yet, even though my own children attended children's bible study every Wednesday evening at their church. The girls were playing in Liz's room which was down the hall from the kitchen and across the hall from my own room, I was in the kitchen with my nephew, and my two sons baking everyone cookies....when out of no where the back door opens and this woman comes barreling in my house (I had never seen this woman before)...with my boys, nephew and I standing there with our mouths open...I asked "Can I help you?" She says "You have my daughter, I am here for my daughter"...no introductions and at this point I am starting to feel like I had kidnapped this woman's child. I said "The girls are playing down the hall in Liz's room" and kinda pointed in the general direction. So she barrels off down the hall, and I here this scream......this woman is screaming now for her daughter at the top of her lungs, but she's standing in the entry of my own bedroom not Liz's. I walk down the hall and ask the girls to come out of Liz's room, then I asked the mother what's wrong? I had a shotgun standing in the corner of my room, which I had used the day before hunting and she made a statement about it, grabbed her girl and on the way back out the back door says..."My child is no longer allowed to play with your child". I was terribly uncomfortable about the whole scene. I put my shotgun back in the closet and closed the door. It wasn't loaded and the shells were kept in a totally different place. Of course we don't think much about these sorts of things at our house because we all grew up with hunting and having guns around. Anyway, a few years passed by, and I was having coffee downtown with the locals when they told me that the minister of our church had shot a state record buck deer but had done so illegally and was prosecuted by the game warden, he didn't get to keep the deer and had his own gun taken away and also had to pay a large fine to the state. Hearing that was an Ah-ha moment for me, I had never forgotten the way she had made us feel that day. I do believe that what goes around comes around in some way shape or form.
I can think of 2 different Ah-Has that affected me, no someone else:
First, as a senior in high school I was chosen to be on our class 'brain games' or something like that, can't remember the name exactly team, the only girl (this is a very 'male-centric' state, so it was a big deal). Right before the competition, I quit--I was feeling tired of being 'the smart girl' (and I'd bet there are some people here who can sympathize-for younger folks, there was a time when being intelligent and being a female at the same time weren't considered to be an altogether good thing). When I called our class president (who was also a friend of mine) and gave him my reason, he was quiet for a minute, said he'd find a replacement, then asked, "But really, would you rather be dumb?" I've not often felt worse, or taken a harder look at myself. It was then that I decided, to hell with it, I'd be who I was with no apologies and no more worries.
Second Ah-Ha: The Man and I had been dating for a couple months and suddenly there was a 2 week period when he didn't call. When he finally called, I was PISSED, and that was when I realized that I really liked him--lol. Normally, I would have shrugged and moved along with my life and not given him another thought. And 27 years later, here we are
Both good "Ah-ha"s, I think.
First, as a senior in high school I was chosen to be on our class 'brain games' or something like that, can't remember the name exactly team, the only girl (this is a very 'male-centric' state, so it was a big deal). Right before the competition, I quit--I was feeling tired of being 'the smart girl' (and I'd bet there are some people here who can sympathize-for younger folks, there was a time when being intelligent and being a female at the same time weren't considered to be an altogether good thing). When I called our class president (who was also a friend of mine) and gave him my reason, he was quiet for a minute, said he'd find a replacement, then asked, "But really, would you rather be dumb?" I've not often felt worse, or taken a harder look at myself. It was then that I decided, to hell with it, I'd be who I was with no apologies and no more worries.
Second Ah-Ha: The Man and I had been dating for a couple months and suddenly there was a 2 week period when he didn't call. When he finally called, I was PISSED, and that was when I realized that I really liked him--lol. Normally, I would have shrugged and moved along with my life and not given him another thought. And 27 years later, here we are
Both good "Ah-ha"s, I think.
I had kind of thing like this. We invited one of my son's friends over for a play date a few years ago. I called the dad, introduced myself, blah blah, anyway, the mom showed up with the kid and as the boys went hooping and hollering outside to play basketball, she asked me if I minded if she asked a personal question. I replied "Ask away". She asked me if I had any weapons in the house.....................I actually didn't know what to say for a moment because I had never been asked this question before in this context. I started running thru my mind of how many handguns, rifles, and shotguns I actually had at that time, I think it was around 25-30, all secured in my walk in gun vault in my bedroom. I told her honestly how many firearms I owned, my experience with these firearms, etc. She looked completely terrified, as if my next move was going to be to take out a weapon and start popping off rounds in the front yard or something. There was visible fear in her eyes about the concept of someone owning that many firearms. I offered to show her my gun vault and prove that no one other than myself has access to it, not my wife or son, but she had already written me off. I just never could understand that. I guess if her son was some kind of lock disarming or lock picking ninja type and was able to bypass my lock on my gun vault then there would have been something to worry about but I just didn't get it. She agreed to let her son stay that day and play but I noticed he never came over again. It's such a different era nowadays. When I grew up there was a shotgun in everyone's pickup, several guns in just about everyone's house......most of us kids knew how to use a gun by the time we could ride bicycles. I understand that is not how it is everywhere but watching someone react so visibly to just knowing they are in the same house with firearms? I don't get it. The AH-HA! moment of this situation? Her husband was ex-Army.....WTF?
My dad had a soft cased rifle in the hall closet, next to the front door, for most of my life. We would have NEVER thought to touch it. EVER. My husband's father collected guns, did reloading, etc., and had a gun room. Locked, but everyone knew where the key was kept. Again, no one would have gone in there without permission. We weren't scared of guns, but we were respectful--taught that they were tools that you didn't mess with unless/until you knew how to use them properly (just like a power drill). The difference now is that people aren't taught the same things or in the same way, and often when they do have weapons they aren't properly trained or respectful (not everywhere--my family is from a rural state and kids are still raised the way we were). I do worry about my kids in others' homes, not that they will handle a weapon but that another kid will be showing off and discharge one. It's scary being a parent, sometimes, isn't it?
When I grew up, I was taught a deep respect for weapons. My dad was ex-marine who came from a family deep rooted in hunting. All of us kids took hunter safety class's and each received our first gun from our dad at a young age. We were led by good example and in turn have done the same for our kids, each of mine has had hunter safety class's each has their own guns, and they have a deep respect for their guns and rights to hunt wild game. You're right, it's a different world of people out there.
You got that right. Respect is a good word. We respected firearms as kids. We knew what they were capable of and so we respected them. My son has no interest at all in shooting, but he still respects the weapons. That's all I ask of him. I have no qualms about tinkering with them or cleaning my firearms around him because he can see that I'm comfortable handling them. I've shown him how to use a few of them in the unlikely event he might need to someday, but there is just not much interest there one way or the other. It was different when I was growing up, as soon as I was allowed to, I learned everything I could about marksmanship, gun safety, muzzle control, etc. Luckily, I had a very good source in my grandfather, who was very skilled in all aspects of firearms usage and safety. I have the same fears you do. I don't worry about my son doing something stupid with someone else's firearm but I don't know how well the people in the house he is visiting understand or treat firearms. It is a bit scary.