I fell out of a moving vehicle once. I don’t remember how old I was. Old enough to know I should have my seat belt fastened. Not old enough to realize what could happen if it wasn’t and I FELL OUT OF A MOVING VEHICLE.
I don’t remember what car my mom was driving at the time. The shit-brown Nova? Or the shit-brown Datsun that she could backfire on command. And let me tell you, you haven’t experienced embarrassment until you’ve been dropped off at school by your mom in a backfiring piece of shit car.
We were leaving the mall. I was in the front seat, sans seat belt, and, as we made a right turn towards the freeway, there I went. All rolly-polly out of the passenger’s side door.
I think I feel worse for the woman in the car behind us who had to slam on her breaks to avoid slamming into me. I mean, I walked away perfectly fine, just a skinned elbow to show for it. That woman, on the other hand… you know she still sees me in her sleep.
Sadly, there’s no point to this story. My sister wrote about an experience she had while cutting off some nice Utahans recently which got me thinking of bad drivers. Bad drivers made me think of my mother. And, oh, remember that time I fell out of the car?
It’s kind of like the circle of life… but with more cursing.