It is with a great deal of excitement that I tell you my car keys have been restored to me. The condition placed on my ability to resume driving was that I must be able to get in and out of the driver’s seat. Without sawing off my leg.
Fiddledaddy followed me out to the car to make me demonstrate how I would maneuver my bum leg. Determined, I careened my way out to the car on my crutches, choosing the Mommy Van as my vehicle of choice.
Since I knew Fiddledaddy’s tiny Prius would not accommodate a leg that can only bend 20 degrees. Although, to get the car keys back, I would have been more than willing to hang the leg out of the open window. With a red flag tied to it. Because that’s the law.
I opened the van door as far as possible, and moved the seat back to its furthermost position. I placed my crutches behind the driver’s seat, and then placed my rear end on it. Scootching back as far as humanly possible. The right leg, the one that actually bends, made it in just fine. Then the moment of truth came as I slowly lifted the offending left leg, and tried to clear the opening. It took a bit of work, and I made certain to disguise the pain by plastering a faux smile on my face, so that Fiddledaddy would have no idea of the colorful diatribe that was running amok in my head.
The leg finally cleared. With satisfaction, I said, “SEE! I can do it! Now, give me my keys.”
“Show me how you are going to manage the parking brake.”
Crap. I stared at my feet for a moment. I put the steering column thingy in PARK, for crying out loud. Isn’t the parking brake redundant? Then it occurred to me, I CAN TOTALLY USE MY RIGHT LEG TO PUT THE PARKING BRAKE ON AND TAKE IT OFF. I mean, I hardly ever need the parking brake while accelerating. Right?
Then came the quiz. “What if the car catches on fire? You can’t run.”
I pondered this a moment. I would totally be bar-b-que. Then with confidence I answered, “Well, I have a sneaking suspicion that if the car were to catch on fire, AND IT NEVER HAS, I might be motivated to pick up the pace a little.”
Dubious, he handed over my keys.
Wherein I slammed the car door shut, peeled out of the driveway, and burned rubber out of our subdivision. Not unlike the scene in Cars where Lightning McQueen escapes the boot, and tears off screaming down the road.