Where We're Going, We Don't Need Roads.

I didn't know what a side console in a car was called until I was in Driver's Ed.  In my world, that beautiful storage unit where people stash their cd's, spare change and sunglasses always had a second function.

A much nicer mobile home than ours

My parents had lake-front property outside of city limits.  Lake-front now applies to the house my father is still in the process of building (he started shortly after I was born).  He still lives in the yellow trailer my childhood friends called "The Twinkie."  The pseudo-house now mostly just blocks the trailer's view of the lake. He claims the reason he won't finish the house now is because his taxes will change drastically.

This prime real estate had its advantages, though.  I developed the skill of hearing a car coming when it was still miles away.  I also learned how to swim and fish at a very young age.  The advantage I never really considered during my childhood, however, was the fact that police were only present if/when someone called them.

I got driving lessons by everyone in my family before my age reached the double digits.  I ramped my ATV off a mound of dirt my dad kept after excavation for the big house, the mound I so lovingly referred to as Muddy Mountain.  A friend's little brother learned how to make bombs online the summer after my senior year in high school; I knew exactly where he could set them off.

Needless to say, traffic safety laws weren't at the forefront of my parents' minds.  I never remember being in a car seat, but to their credit, I've always been monstrously tall for my age.  Whenever I would get fussy and start squirming in the half seat belts that were outlawed from the front of vehicles in the 60's, my parents would bring me to the front of the car.

The Buddy Seat

My ridiculous size as a toddler made sitting on my parents' laps uncomfortable at best.  That's when I would get to sit on "The Buddy Seat."  With TicTacs and pennies jingling and mingling beneath me, I would sit as my father sped down sinuous country roads.  I would even ask to sit there when the front passenger seat was a viable option.  Hitting my head on the roof of a vehicle, after my vision returns, will give me a sense of nostalgia for the days when I was King of the Road with the best seat in the house.

One of my first boyfriends and I made a connection after just such a bump. 

He was a grade below me and I was home for a Halloween party.  It was at the local community college.  My best friend was working there and hosting the party, so we knew it would be a blast.  I went just for her, but then I saw other friends from high school. 

One group of former classmates included Zack.  We had one class together and the only thing I remember about him from that class was that he was tiny and full of frenetic energy.  I thought of him as a chihuahua.  However, Zack was certainly more interesting now because he was wearing a shirt announcing that he was gay.

I was intrigued, but still, not there for him.  His group, though, included some friends I had known since early childhood.  We caught up and when Ashley had to stay back to finish up some details after the party, I left with them.

We were in the back seat of a their Jeep with my friend, Travis, between us.  The driver decided she wanted to "Chase Bambi" which involves driving through harvested fields, literally driving toward the animals most known for killing people with their proclivity for jumping in front of moving vehicles.  The goal wasn't to hit them.  Looking back, it seems like it was a way of getting back at the deer for all of the times they almost killed us.

While in the field, I had one arm gripping the handle above the door and one gripping the seat behind Travis.  As we sped toward what was surely a terrified animal, we hit a huge dip and we were all lifted out of our seats.  Despite the seatbelt I'm pretty sure I was wearing, my head hit the roof.  When we came back down, my hand was in Zach's hand.  It stayed there until we got back to my house.  The relationship lasted a few months and we had some fun, but by the end I was willing to blame the whole thing on the brain damage sustained from that bump.  But perhaps the loving reminder of sitting on the Buddy Seat helped a bit.