Not in the clamor of the crowded street, not in the shouts and plaudits of the throng, but in ourselves, are triumph and defeat.--Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

REDIRECT ALERT! (Scroll down past this mess if you're trying to read an archived post. Thanks. No, really, thanks.)

Due to my inability to control my temper and complacently accept continued silliness with not-quite-as-reliable-as-it-ought-to-be Blogger/Blogspot, your beloved Possumblog will now waddle across the Information Dirt Road and park its prehensile tail at http://possumblog.mu.nu.

This site will remain in place as a backup in case Munuvia gets hit by a bus or something, but I don't think they have as much trouble with this as some places do. ::cough::blogspot::cough:: So click here and adjust your links. I apologize for the inconvenience, but it's one of those things.

Friday, April 30, 2004

Juvenile Delinquency

I am a bad father.

Took Rebecca to soccer practice last night, and it lasted only about an hour before the bottom dropped out and the storms rolled through. When the first drops started falling, I went and got back in the car, and when it really started coming down, their coach ran them all up to the concession stand to see if it was going to clear up anytime soon.

Obviously, not.

I drove on up to the upper lot, and found them all stacked up on the porch with everybody else's team all jabbering and milling about. He talked to them for a little while, still waiting for the rain to stop, and then finally gave up and sent them home.

I ran and unlocked the door and a minute later Rebecca came running around and got in, and we headed back toward the house. The rain had slacked a bit to a nice gentle sprinkle, and as we approached the left turn onto the street leading out of the park, I saw that there were no cars coming in any direction. SO, I impulsively edged the gear selector up a notch to Neutral, grabbed the handbrake, lifted it up smartly, and cranked in a quarter-turn of steering wheel. The Focus's rear end neatly pirouetted to the right, I released the brake, popped it back into D, and rolled on down the street. Back when I was a young man, I learned to perform this little bit of excitement in a 1972 Chevy Monte Carlo, which weighed about a thousand pounds more. You've not really driven until you've done a nice 180 in a 4,000 pound car with a column shifter and a foot operated parking brake on bias-ply tires. The Focus was simple in comparison.

"What're you doing, Daddy?!"

"That's called a handbrake turn--if you go all the way around, it's called a bootlegger turn!"

"Why'd you do that?"

"Ohhh, I don't know--just being silly."

Let's see--I demonstrate to my impressionable young daughter a driving maneuver that can lead to a collision, on a residential street, in the dark, in the rain, IN HER MOTHER'S CAR!

We drove a short bit on down the street and got to Highway 11. "Uhmm, Sugar, do me a favor and let's not let Mommy know we were playing with her car. Okay?"

"Aww, I wanted to tell her!"

"Well, she might not like that, and she would probably give me a bad spanking."

"Hee-hee -- oookaaaay."

I am going to need a LOT of churching-up come Sunday.

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