Tonight, I drove my little brother over to his friend John’s house. I volunteered, actually, to drop him off at the house where, just last night, I drove right over when he called to ask for a ride, and then ended up waiting in the driveway for ten minutes (wearing long underwear, a turtleneck, a wool sweater, a down vest, a down parka, a scarf wrapped around my head and a furry, suede eskimo hat with ear flaps) while he remained upstairs, oblivious to my shivering presence, until I gave up and stumbled up the icy steps to ring the doorbell. When the boys finally came downstairs, it was John who actually thought to open the door and escort me inside. He said, “you look cold.” I don’t know how he could tell. My scarf concealed everything up to my eyes. Then he said, “You’re wearing a lot of coats.” Well, one was a vest actually. But he was right about the cold part.
Even though William had the audacity to try, repeatedly, to change the radio station in the car on the way home, I gave the freshly permitted 16-year-old himself the opportunity to drive all the way down the driveway and park my mom’s prized minivan in the garage. We played chinese firedrill at the top of the driveway and, before adjusting the mirror, mind you, he was cruising. It was an excellent parking job, I must say, all right angles. All things considered, am I a good sister or what?
Therefore, I really don’t think it was necessary to insult me as we embarked out on the roads tonight! now, I’ll be the first to admit that I can’t drive a standard transmission. I did try once, before I got my license, and my dad and I have both subliminally erased that day from our memories. But we all know that I haven’t made one single attempt since. So, my mom was in the city today, which left my car, parked outside and encased in ice, and my dad’s rav-4, a stick shift. While I bundled up to go scrape off the windshield, the following conversation took place:
My brother: “We’re taking dad’s car, right?”
Me: “No.”
My brother: “Why not?”
Me: “You know why.”
My brother: “Come on, why can’t we take it, it’s right here in the garage.”
Me: “Because I can’t drive a standard transmission and you know it!”
My brother: “Oh. Well, I got it into second.”
Me: “Oh yeah? Well, I don’t even know what that means.”
Quote of the day: “Like so many americans, she was trying to construct a life that made sense from things she found in gift shops.” – Kurt Vonnegut
