Mr. Kamikaze and I have an ongoing debate on the subject of driving in reverse.
He is of the opinion that I am doing it all wrong. I am of the opinion that passengers being chauffeured to the train station should
walk keep their opinions to themselves.
But it is more than academic now that Boy, Esq. is learning to drive.
This is a stage of parenting in which unresolved marital issues tend to resurrect themselves like zombie pedestrians in the crosswalk.
Leaving aside his refusal to acknowledge the number of times over the years in which I have saved our lives by pointing out his errors from the passenger seat, the bottom line is this:
I spend as much time backing out of the driveway in a day as certain train-riding people spend behind the wheel all month.
It begins at 5:30 a.m. and continues throughout the day, under conditions certain train-riding people could not imagine. I back up in good weather and bad - a distinction so marginal as to be practically meaningless in Chicago. I back up before I have brushed my teeth or my hair and again afterward. I back up while reciting the daily schedule, arguing about chores and handing out lunch money. Some days I back up in the process of discovering I have no money. Then I have to back up while writing a check.
I back up by myself and I back up with a passenger load of middle school girls so loud you can almost hear them over the blaring Justin Bieber soundtrack. I back up while turning the radio down; I back up threatening to turn it off.
So when Mr. Kamikaze tells me I am doing it wrong because my head is turned over my left shoulder instead of over my right, I laugh so hard I nearly back up into the garbage cans.
From the Other Stuff I am Right About archives: "Missing" soy sauce discovered in refrigerator exactly where wife said it would be, A palm tree means never having to say you're sorry