DP's post reminded me that it did indeed snow last night. And then DP proceeded to talk about since he doesn't have to drive, how he loves the snow and wants to frolic about in it like a bawdy little rubblemuffin on Boxing Day. Well that's all well and good for him, but when I think of snow and driving, I think not only of a traumatic experience I had, but of a traumatic experience that was intentionally engineered by my father.I was all of sixteen, still brandishing a learner's permit and all the adolescent swagger that comes with being able to drive a green minivan provided there is also a licensed driver over the age of 21 with you. So I was uh...not all that good at driving yet. So cut to a random weekend where it's snowing in Southeastern PA, and it's nighttime. I had just finished shoveling the driveway when my Dad informs me that I am going to drive him around the neighborhood for practice driving in snow. I appreciated this, as it was a pretty typical "Oh right, I have a father" moment that are exceedingly rare once you stop believing in Santa. So, as I am about to pile into the minivan I had been practicing on, my Dad stops me. "No, we're taking the Buick." The Buick is from 1984. The Buick is two years older than me. The Buick is Grey.
We drive around some empty parking lots, and I slowly get a feel for driving in snow. Basically, the lesson boils down to "Drive Slower". We're headed back home and I am the new king of rally car ice racing. My Dad asks me a question about something innocuous- school, the Wright Brothers, etc.- and waits for me to answer. I get halfway through my response when he shouts "HIT THE BRAKES! NOW!"
The car fishtails, swerves and spins ninety degrees into the other lane. We stop, and I'm taking a quick inventory of all the little children I'm sure I had killed with my Buick Regal Wrecking Ball. What will I say to their parents? How will I deal with seeing coffins so small? But instead, we're fine, on an empty road, while snow falls amiably onto the windshield. My Dad chuckles quietly "That's why I had you take the Buick. No anti-lock brakes, see what happens?"
I'm going to have so much fun messing with my kid.
This is why Jews don't drive Buicks unless they're retired and living in Florida.
ReplyDelete"And that is why you should never talk about the Wright Brothers while driving."
ReplyDeleteHello,
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From time to time you will find long, convoluted and often offensive comments, usually in monologue form, and hardly ever pertaining to the related entry, posted in the comment section on your blog. I do not believe you have any way of preventing me from doing this, and I challenge you to do so. If you succeed, then I'll go elsewhere. If you fail, I'll consider it an acceptence of my meandering and thoughtless diatribes.
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I will do my best not to insult you or your constituents directly.
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I will father many children with the females of your family.
I will make heinous grammatical and spelling mistakes that will plague your overeducated worlds.
Islamofascists will back away slowly when they notice my presence on your comment sections.
My presence will make your pee sting the inside and tip of your penises when you pee. In some sick way, you'll like it.
-GOYB