Let me start the story by saying that it may have been a mistake to tell my kids "This is where Dad and I had our accident" while driving through that fated intersection today on the way to meet David for shopping and lunch. If you are new, we were recently in a car accident and you can see it here.
I drive through that horrible place, oh maybe 10 times a week, since it is on the main road to anywhere in our little neighborhood, and EVERY time I do for the last 4 weeks I cringe. If I could close my eyes I would. I hear the bang of the airbags. I taste the airbag powder. I start to ache. It is not pleasant. I digress.
Today, for some reason I decided to say out loud "This is where Dad and I had our accident." It was quiet in the car, a few minutes pass, and I guessed the kids weren't even listening to me. I park our car, go into the store where we were meeting David, then we come out to the parking lot to drive another mile or so up the road to eat.
As we are walking out to the cars I suggest that since I have not ridden in the new car, that we all ride over to the restaurant together in David's car. (I am a little ticked at David that I haven't ridden in the new car yet. David drove to Cleveland the day after we got back from Seattle to buy his new car. The Volvo from the accident was totaled, and David had been driving the rental car up until the time we left for Seattle.)
David suggests that I drive. I look at him nervously. Me? Hmmm, let me think about this...no. I am a few blocks away from the accident site, there are a lot of Canadian Geese around and you remember what happen the first time I drove the old car? I AM NOT going to chance this. Maybe I should try it out in a deserted parking lot the first few times. I hesitate and come up with, "I really do not feel like driving. I feel like riding, enjoying, as it were." David insists, because I haven't come within 2 feet of his replacement and he knows I'm afraid.
I take the key from him and walk over toward the car trying to act all confident. The kids start to protest quietly to David, deflating my confidence..."You are going to let Mom drive?" "You've got to be kidding, we haven't had the car for a week!" "There goes another car." David shushes them, tells them to "shut it" and shakily I get into the new car.
I start the car, and start to back up when Bubba, doing his best Home Alone impression, rolls down his window and screams, "We are going to die!" to the parking lot full of innocent bystanders. Great. David and I both turn around and tell Bubba to knock it off. Bubba rolls up his window, mouthing the words "help me" to the people still staring at the car, and off we go down the street. Believe me, the average person was wondering what the issue was as I drove down the street well 10 miles under the speed limit, with my hands exactly at 10 and 2, no radio, no one allowed to talk, using my turn signal well before it was time to turn. I made grandmas look good. But I made it. I drove the car without running over any skunk carcasses, OR getting into an accident.