Driving Lessons

One of the Teenagers in our house is begging our human to teach her to drive today, so Salem and I sit and listen. It promises to be entertaining.

“Please, Mom, Dad will just yell at me the whole time. He has no patience.”

“Okay, but the minute my hair starts falling out, it’s over. You have to let your Dad teach you.”

As they settle into the car, Teenager eagerly puts the keys in the ignition.

“Whoa, there. What do you think you’re doing?”

“Starting the car?”

“Not so fast, missy. Are you trying to get us killed? First things, first.” Our human points in front of her, “Now, this is the glove compartment. Know it well. It will contain all your essentials: An emergency twenty dollar bill if you ever find yourself broken down in the middle of nowhere and needing a taxi, an emergency cell phone charger in case you find yourself stranded and your phone is dead, a first aid kit in case of a minor accident, a map to the nearest hospital in case of a major accident and you can’t find your phone, a list of emergency phone numbers in case you need AAA, the insurance company, or a tow truck, and a small screwdriver, a hammer in case you need to break the window to get out of a smashed-in door, a knife in case you have to cut yourself out of your seatbelt after an accident, and a can of mace in case a lunatic approaches you while you are broken down on the side of the road, and you have to defend yourself.”

Teenager opens the door and starts to get out of the car. Our human looks at her, “What are you doing?”

“If you think I’m driving this death trap now, you’re crazy.”

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