Thursday, January 01, 2004

I'm a terrible backseat driver, but last night as we drove from Cafe Terracotta to Julie's house I had to say something. We had finished a very expensive, somewhat mediocre meal at a very fancy restaurant (with only one vegetarian entree, come on, it is the 21st century!) and we crammed back into the car. I was in the back with Len and Gordon, a nice couple from Vancouver. We followed Julie's car and once out in the desert Larry pushed the accelerator to the floor, up and down hills, around tight corners. No street lights, very dark. I became more and more apprehensive as we whisked around yet another corner and I was shoved into Len. He and Gordon were starting to make little noises as well.

Finally. "Larry?" "Yes?," he asked. "You gotta slow down, it is getting scary back here." Larry protests that he is driving fine, but then assumes I am feeling carsick. I play that up because it is a useful excuse and he returns to a nice safe speed and I can relax. I will not be a tragic New Years Eve traffic fatality. Actually, since I had my seat belt on, that was unlikely to happen, but I really wanted to not have to pick broken safety glass and cactus spines out of my hair. So apologies to Larry, if you read this. Next year I think I will drive, though.

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