Faber’s food for thought: Car accidents and the end of summer

The mornings are getting crisp, the leaves are retaining their last traces of summer and it is Mrs. Faber’s favorite time of year. The children are going back to school.

While it may be different in your area, in the Pacific Northwest we tend to have very distinct seasons. The shortest always seems to be summer. It rains about eight months and it’s summer for two months. Here, summers are truly a godsend, with beautiful, towering mountains, the cold, clear waters of Puget Sound winding around hundreds of small islands, and farmers sprinkling cow manure through their irrigation cannons.

I’m never quite sure if the beauty of the Pacific Northwest isn’t a little enhanced by our Stockholm Syndrome of eight months of rain and clouds. As you can imagine, it’s an emotional rollercoaster as we see sun and warmth, then slowly turn back to rain.

Growing up, the end of summer was always symbolized by our local fair. A week spent trying to keep the shoe polish off the cows and ringworm, punctuated by a show or two. There is something incredibly nostalgic and unifying about a fair for a community. It is a place to meet old friends and make new ones.

The highlight of our fair is always the Demolition Derby, where Faber Dairy’s top mechanic drives into cars all night long in the hope of not having to claim an accident at work at the dairy on Monday morning. Given the state of Faber Dairy’s tractor fleet, this fine young man is well prepared to make the most of a smoldering hunk of metal that once looked like a car.

Faber Dairy is proudly displayed on the side of a decommissioned ’70s Crown Vic. Our fearless mechanic weaves through the twisted metal, trying to land the perfect hit. Unfortunately, the perfect hit is invariably his younger brother, reigniting old flames and making this year’s Thanksgiving dinner yet another embarrassment.

The chaos just keeps mounting as he tries to duck, dive and avoid anyone he can. In the past, the end result has been a car sitting on an eco-block with its drivetrain stuck in the dirt, three wheels still attached and its radiator spraying steam everywhere. If insurance people had a sense of humor, they’d be title sponsors: “Welcome to the Geico Demolition Derby 500.”

It’s not a carnival experience unless you get an ice cream sandwich or whatever just came in the fryer. It’s truly an American experience. All of this was bittersweet for a young man, knowing that eight-hour days of geometry and written assignments were just around the corner.

Here we are again.

Here’s to a summer that went by way too quickly, and another school year of trying to understand basic sixth grade math.