Cruising In My Ragtop

On Saturday, K and I were out for coffee and a drive to scope out tag-sales. All of these things might sound fun to you, but then, I would bet that you have never been inside a closed car with K at the wheel. This is how Jesus and I meet on a daily basis- I pray, fervently pray that I will make it to my next stop.
Imagine if you will, a movie from years gone by, with a stud like Cary Grant at the wheel, wearing a sharp driving coat, goggles and a scarf trailing in the breeze of the exhaust. The car passes through an idealistic, pastoral scene that usually involves perfectly manicured pedestrians, cows, and roadside diners.
That is not, how we ride. We bump merrily over curbs, the wrong way down one way streets, make sudden lane changes, fail to yield, and hardly ever signal. It is nothing for us for swerve across four lanes of traffic to make our exit. K drives fast when he should drive slowly, slow when he should drive fast and he garners more honks and bird flipping that any human on the planet. Why, just the other day, we got honked at so much I actually heard the opening bars to the Mannheim Steam Roller Christmas Extravaganza and I felt all sentimental for snow in August.
But when all is said and done, as K likes to point out, “have I ever got you in a wreck?” The answer is, no but I sure have been scared. A LOT. Laters.