Today, after lunch at the Mexican joint next to the karate school, Patrick and I got into a wreck in his car. For once, I was glad he never took me up on the motorcycle/sidecar idea I'm constantly proposing. That's really the only drawback to the sidecar, instant smushification in case of an accident. I guess one must balance that against all the chicks you'll pick up riding shotgun in that thing. Anyway, it was a minor fender bender, and the Paddington Bear took it in stride. I, on the other hand, instantaneously voided my bowels and began to speak in tongues. "How does that differ from any other car ride with you?" you ask; I really wish I had an answer there.
By my count, I've now been in 4 wrecks. Only once was I driving. From this, I gather that when I'm in someone else's car, I transform into some sort of vehicular voodoo doll. My theory is that shortly after birth, some sort of shaman/wizard snuck into the Methodist hospital in Dallas and cursed me and my ability to ride with others. He probably also cursed my success with women and my ability to go long periods of time without having to urinate. (I'm no magic afficionado, but that's a pretty good spell.) I much prefer the sorcerer explanation to the more obvious one, my affinity for ticklefights with whoever happens to be driving me around.
Is there a lesson here? Well, it's certainly not to stop giving me rides, since I'm expecting my car to burst into flames any day now. If anything, it's to carefully examine each car on the road to make sure I'm not in the passenger side. If you happen to see me sitting there, do yourself a favor and immediately drive into a telephone pole. At least that way, you'll save yourself some time and spare me the risk of bodily injury. It's the little things like this that make you guys the best.Posted by Cody at September 2, 2004 7:10 PM