Friday, 27 February 2009
Last weekend my family enjoyed a beautiful drive out to east Texas, and a day at a resort. We were supposed to have been back on the road by 2:30 at the latest, but we were waylaid, and stuck there until after 4:00! Normally, this wouldn't be a problem, but I had a date with my dad at the opera that night, and HAD to be back in Dallas on time. Instead of going home, I ran into Ross, bought a new dress and shoes, and had Jonathan drop me off at my parents' house, with the intention of coming back to get me later.
Now, all the way downtown, I battled with my mother's minivan. I mean, I'm thinking "I haven't seen allignment like this since I was 18 and didn't take care of my car properly!" Upon calling Jonathan during an intermission to tell him what time we would be out, he says "your mother wants you to call her." So I did, and she offered to let me drive her van home, and bring it back on Monday, when we would be close anyway. Makes far more sense than Jonathan driving all the way back to Mom and Dad's, so of course I accepted!
While were were inside enjoying La Boheme, the temperature dropped tremendously, so I hastened out to the van and anticipated cranking up the heater to warm my cold toesies. As Daddy and I were sitting in the parking lot (for at least thirty minutes), staring at all the brake lights in front of us with COLD AIR blowing out of the vents, it hits me... The heater went out in my mother's van, and she hasn't gotten it fixed yet! Now, my mother lives in the middle of Dallas. She doesn't think about commuting. I have to drive through two towns to get to the nearest Wal-Mart, where her's is within conceivable walking distance. Really, the farthest she typically drives is the five miles or so to church. The van would hardly have time to warm up to even turn on the heater, much less get any use out of it. Quite frankly, I'm not sure if I would have it repaired, if I were her. There I sat, trying not to let Daddy see exactly how distraught I was at the prospect of wrestling with a van that is fighting me, with no working heater, all the way back to Anna, and my dear dad says "take my car." I almost burst into tears right then. You see, NO ONE drives Daddy's car but Daddy. Mom has never even driven that car. So, I thought about it for a moment or two, and replied "I'll be OK, Daddy, I'm sure Mom will let me borrow some socks." We finally managed to fight our way out of the parking lot, and make it back to their house. I got the socks and some gloves, and prepared to drive home, when I saw it... The right front tire on Mom's van was extremely low. No wonder it had been fighting me so terribly! Of course, that sealed it. I drove Daddy's car home.
My daddy drives a Mini Cooper. I have never, and I mean NEVER driven a sports car in my life. Jonathan and I have a 4-wheel-drive truck, so this was a completely new experience for me. All the way home, I clung to the steering wheel, thinking "Can't smash Daddy's car! Can't smash Daddy's car! CAN'T SMASH DADDY'S CAR!" I ventured a glance at the speedometer, and realised that I was going ninety miles an hour! YIKES! Is that what a sports car does when you're not looking? "Can't get a speeding ticket in Daddy's car!" I guess some things, you never outgrow! I love you, Daddy! :)