Tuesday, March 13, 2012


You know how it is.
Kids turn 16 and they want to drive.
They want to rule the road.
I get it.
I felt the same way.
Today's kids must drive solo for a year.
(Unless, of course, that rule has changed.)
That means no driving anyone under the age of twenty-five.
No one.
It should be a year of practice, to perfect their skills.

Oh, that daughter of mine.
That lovely, won't do anything wrong, daughter.
She drove and drove, and drove some more.
Here, there, and everywhere.
By herself.

Or so I thought.

She called me one afternoon.
Tried to solve the problem herself.
Said she had taken a ride along the winding road.
Up in the local hills behind our house.
And had backed in, or pulled forward, too far.
And too fast.
So that one of the tires was wrongly punctured.

I'll be right there I told her.
I'll call Triple A. 
Have someone fix the damage.
Hang tight.

Thanks mom she said.
And by the way, I have a friend with me.
She added, nervously.
Knowing I'd be disappointed.

Yet, went on to bravely admit.
That that wasn't the first time a friend had joyfully rode along.


(contribution for GBE2 word prompt: shenanigans)

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