Riding in cars with boys

I’m up late and was up way too late last night, so I’m relying on a NaBloPoMo prompt for today’s theme:

What was your most memorable car ride as a kid?

I think I’ll write about several and you lot can get more bang for your reader buck.

1.  When I was little we had a yellow Subaru with black vinyl interior.   My brother and I were always playing with the door latches and my mother was always telling us not to.  In our little child minds, we figured we were fine because the doors were locked.  One day, we were driving in our little town, in the winter, and my brother and I were playing with the latches.  My mom turned down a small street and Brother’s door flew open and out he went.  I asked mom, “Where’s Brother?” which of course made her stop short and spot him sitting in the road via her rearview mirror.  There he was, in the road, in his snow suit.  He was crying but uninjured and my mother was so grateful that no one had been driving behind us.

2. My dad’s parents lived about 2 hours away from us.  We went out to visit several times a year and near the end of the drive, the highway had bright street lights lining the sides of the road.  A lot of the drive was not lit, so this was a big trigger.  I can remember counting the lights and wishing I knew how many there were between when the lights first appear and when we’d get off the highway.  I’m sure the counting was my parents’ way of distracting us from the “are we there yet”s.

3.  After I got my license there were times I was allowed to go to my boyfriend’s house in mom’s car.  I had to be home by 9 by state law, so I had to leave by 8:30 or so.   Often on my drive home, I would pass a guy from my class, Chris, who was walking  home from his girlfriend’s house and I’d stop and drive him home.  One night I came around a dark turn (such as you find in small, rural towns) and a family of raccoons was walking across the road and a car coming in the opposite direction.  I was left with no choice, really, but to hit a raccoon (complete with “thud”).  Marvin Gaye’s “Sexual Healing” was on the radio.  I started crying pretty quickly, but kept driving and soon spotted Chris.  I picked him up and told him the whole story.  He was sympathetic and comforting and we both got home safe.  He and I disagreed about a LOT of stuff (thank you, Participation in Government, for showing my senior class all the ways they disagreed), but he was a really nice guy that night.

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