DigitalRob

Before the Storm - WW #21

And the Winner is… - FF #17

I spent 15+ hours at school today getting ready for the chaos on Monday. This is all I’ve got for today’s funny… 

Back to School - WW #20

Popsicle Sticks - FF #16

Why did the boy stare at the automobile radio?

— He wanted to watch a car-tune!

What did the girl melon say when the boy melon proposed?

— We’re too young. We cantaloupe!

Dad, Can I Drive?

A couple of days ago LW and I were heading back from the community pool when he asked me, “Dad, can I drive?”

My first thought was to decline the offer, but then this memory shoved my brain into reverse…

——–

Family Vacation, late 70s or early 80s.

We had settled in for the long haul in the family van. Not a mini-van, but a bonafide Landmark family van, bigger than a VW love van, smaller than a Hummer.

From front to back, we had two captain’s chairs (driver and passenger, duh), with state-of-the-art cup holders in the console, and a radio WITH cassette deck. Two more captain’s chairs sat behind the first. These were the preemo chairs because they not only slid up and back but swiveled to face the rear of the van. The last seat was a long bench that could fold out into a small bed.

Between the swiveling seats and the bench we had the game table; it fit into a hole in the floor and had a flip top suitable for checkers, chess, backgammon, and some other game we never figured out. Finally, the coup de grâce of this fancy ride was the amenities in the back: a pump sink and a built in ice chest between fake-oak lined cabinets. Woo Hoo! (I know, dear reader, it’s hard to imagine all that luxury in one vehicle, but it was real, we were on vacation, and we loved it!)

Now, in all this luxury where was my somewhere between 8 and 11 year-old self? (I don’t remember exactly how old I was or which vacation this was, obviously.) Sprawled out on the bench resting casually? Nope. Playing spin the seat and aggravate the mom? No. Beating my sisters at Uno? Nooooo… I sat happily between my parents straddling the console. (seat belts… schmeat belts. This was before the U.S. became a nanny state.)

I sat there and asked my infinitely patient father a billion questions about the road: 

What do the lines mean in the middle of the road? What if they’re solid? Doubled? What’s a mile marker? What are those… What is this… What happens when… What if… (Hours, seriously!)

“Dad, how do you know the speedometer is right?”

Using a stop watch and the mile markers to calculate miles per hour is my original “Road Warrior” skill. My dad was a railroad engineer. Not all trains came with a speedometer, so he always carried a notepad, stopwatch, and calculator on trips.

By this time my mom had moved to a rearly located captain’s chair (rearly?), so my dad had me all to himself in the passenger seat. The stop watch kept me quiet for exactly one mile marker at a time. Then I was mostly quiet while I calculated r=d/t then converted it from feet per second to miles per hour. (I wonder if this is why I was always a confident math student. Sneaky Dad, covertly getting me to practice math and logic.)

After a few hours I got pretty fast. I could calculate and do all the conversion before passing the next mile marker. (hmmm, now I wonder if dad slowed down between markers just to make it seem like I was getting faster each time. He was sneaky like that.)

Eventually, I think on the trip home, we had a long stretch of quiet highway. I asked my dad if I could “drive,” and he relented. I sat on his lap and “steered” while he worked the pedals. I remember swerving a bit and some screams from the back, but for the most part, we didn’t die so I think I had things under control. 

——–

As LW and I turned onto the dirt road that starts about a mile from our house, I pulled to the side of the road. 

“Dad, why are we stopping?”

“You said you wanted to drive.”

“Really?”

“Yup, really.”

Like a bolt from heaven, LW was out of his booster and on my lap. “Dad, you work the pedals. I can’t reach them. Okay?”

“No problem.”

“Dad, don’t touch the wheel. I can do it myself. Can we go faster… pleeeeeeeease!”

Thanks, Dad.

My First - WW #19

Frustration - WW #18

China Prepares for the Olympics - FF #16

I got these and several other images through email. I think we all need a Babelfish.

Young Jedi - WW #17

Wordpress and the iPhone

I use Wordpress to organize and write on this blog. Recently, the open-source organization that updates Wordpress released an iPhone application for writing posts. I’m testing it with this post.

Still wondering how to add photos.