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Does this car make me look fat?

12.02.08 | works for me | 12 Comments

I have a few (very reasonable) rules when I drive. These aren’t arbitrary personal preferences (as Dick would like to believe) so much as a little thing called LIFE OR DEATH. Because if mom gets distracted while driving, chances are she’ll crash the car and everyone will die and all the princess ponies you’ve ever had will be inherited by that mean Nellie Olsen.

Mom’s Minivan Rules

1) No open windows (all that noise).

2) No reading lights on (all that night blindness).

3) No talking (unless Mommy asks how your day was, in which case you should answer and speak up and always remember that Mommy is involved). (Crack cocaine Portable DVD player provided; see? Reasonable).

A couple weeks ago someone who shall remain nameless (rhymes with “fusion” and “collusion” and “dead-meat-usan”) left all the interior reading lights on in the minivan. I usually turn the master switch in the dashboard off to prevent this, but someone hit that too on her scenic way out of the car.

The next day the battery was dead.

I called my mom (who lives 45 minutes away) in panic, and she reminded me that I now have neighbors who would probably be just as happy to jump start me as our old neighbors would have been to sell me drugs.

I walked Sally to school and told Susan that preschool was too far to walk, and then I called up Chrysanthemum, who was more than happy to come flex her girl-power muscles. (I realized later that she would have lent me her car if I’d thought to ask, but it is still new to me to have actual, helpful neighbor/friends).

We read in the manual about popping the gear shift lock releaser-thingie, and then she offered to push the car out of the garage while I steered. I was feeling pretty good about all this do-it-herself ingenuity. But of course I didn’t want her to have to push my weight on top of the minivan’s weight, so I reached in to steer while standing on the ground with the driver’s side door open.

Chrysanthemum and I realized at about the same time, that, pushing a car in neutral, even a heavy Honda Odyssey, is a lot easier than you might think. This was at about the same time that the driver’s side door smashed into the garage wall.

The moral of the story (and what works for me) is:

Develop a healthy (realistic) self-image so that when your car does die, as cars are bound to do at some point, you won’t be silly enough to insist on not adding your weight to the FORTY-SIX HUNDRED POUNDS the car already weighs.

Jane

p.s. It’s not all bad. I know a guy who knows a guy named Carlos who can bang out those, uh, “dents” for me for a really good price. Special price just for me, you know?

p.p.s. If you’ve ever thought it’s just not right that Mom doesn’t get a stocking on Christmas morning unless she stuffs it herself, head over to The Well-Rounded Woman for a fabulous Christmas stocking swap.

totally unrelated, but fun to read

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