When the panic button won’t stop

by Jillian @ http://blueshelled.com . September 10, 2009 . 11:48AM

Last week, we drove from Tennessee to Chicago. Along the way, we had multiple stops, but we were barely out of the area when all three of us needed a break to get a drink and get settled in for the long ride. AJ had already settled into his seat and had out his Calvin and Hobbes (he pronounces it “hobbies”) book to read on the trip. As he was absorbed into the world of childhood mischief, he didn’t want to go inside.

He’s 8 now, so we allow him some independence. Leon locked the doors and pumped the gas while I ran inside to get my drink. As I came out, we swapped spots. The problem being, though, that I hadn’t grabbed my keys and Leon had his pair with him in the men’s room. I didn’t think anything of it, however, as AJ could open the door for me. I knocked on the window and he reached over and pulled up the knob…which was our first mistake.

Apparently, with my alarm system, this was a boo-boo. I’m not going to go into why, but it was. The alarm sounded and the man behind me yelled like I was trying to steal my own child. I looked at him in alarm and did everything in my power to shut off the alarm by pulling out my own keys and trying to figure it out. We’d never had this happen before and we bought the car pre-owned. Let’s just say I wasn’t aware that I HAD an alarm system. Now I know.

Leon walked out of the gas station in alarm and gave me the look that said “WHAT HAVE YOU DONE?” I glared at him and if looks could kill there wouldn’t be time for his visitation. This was clearly his fault for not coming out sooner. He got in the car and, after five minutes of torture, we figured out how to shut off my alarm. This was also after five minutes of the people around us alternately glaring, laughing, staring and wondering if the child in the car was really ours.

Whew. We were ready to go. I was barely talking to Leon, because it was his fault, right? However, we were going and the problem was solved. I called a number I had for the car and I spoke with a salesman because I still had some things going on in the middle of my user panel that wouldn’t shut off and I was concerned. With laughter in his voice, he gave me a list of things to do, in order, that would shut off the lights. Since I was on the interstate, he reassured me this could be done while driving and we said our goodbyes.

If I ever find out who that man was, I will toilet paper his house and put Nair in his shampoo. Note that I said he gave me the directions while laughing. He knew what he was doing.

When we did what he asked, in the middle of the interstate, the alarm started going off again. The lights were flashing, the alarm was three times as loud and the cars around us began to freak out and move over to the other side of the road to give “the crazy people a wide berth.” By this time, we were laughing hysterically because the guy had set us up and there was not a stinking thing we could do to make it stop. My car was having a fit in the middle of the interstate less than an hour into our trip.

We finally pulled over and, after trial-and-error, got the car to stop flashing/honking. And then we wondered what those poor people around us thought was happening in our car. We managed to scare an entire gas station and about a mile of cars within 15 minutes.

Yep. You should road trip with us some time. You never know what will happen.

The miracle car

by Jillian @ http://blueshelled.com . September 9, 2009 . 12:24PM

Have you ever been in a huge rush and you found what you though was a miracle on four wheels? It zoomed past you with what seemed like nary a thought for safety or speed limit or police officers.

You may have grinned slightly and pulled out behind that vehicle in a much better mood because now you had at least the small opportunity to be less late to work that day. Or, possibly spend an hour less in the car on a long drive if all worked out well and the miracle car was taking a trip, too! The possibilities were endless!

You allowed your mind to wander as this pillar of society continued to zoom in front of you and you became the miracle car for someone behind you. However, within the 30 seconds that you allowed yourself to be cheerful about the miracle car, something happened…

The miracle car noticed you and a change occurred.

For some reason that remains unknown, the miracle car freaked out and pulled over into the other lane and immediately slowed down. It’s almost like the idea of you drafting their car was too much. Or maybe YOU were what it took for them to realize exactly how fast they were going. Or maybe they realized that you had no problem putting them in the line of fire for the police, so they weren’t going to fall into that trap, no siree, even though they were content there before you came came along.

Abruptly, your mood changes, you slow down and the thought occurs to you that the miracle car, and it’s driver, have been a disappointment to you from the moment you met…

The moon and me

by Jillian @ http://blueshelled.com . July 17, 2009 . 12:28PM

When I was a little girl, I used to think, in the egocentric way of children, that the moon and I had a special relationship. I don’t remember having imaginary friends, though my family has reassured me that I did and that they had 80′s-riffic names like Tiffany and Brittany and Claire. The relationship I remember was mine with the night sky.

Before all those silly things called rules (and if you can’t tell, I’m being facetious here) and safety belt laws and booster seats, etc., people like my mom allowed their kids to lay in the back seat and sleep on short car rides from town to town. Sometimes, I slept. I do love a good nap beyond most anything in life.

However, there was something mystical about looking out the back window, while laying in the seat and watching the stars and the moon. I could make out the face in the moon and I imagined a whole world where the moon was my friend and we frolicked at night. There was so much wonder in this world and what I never could figure out was how the moon FOLLOWED me from town to town. It just further confirmed that what we had was special and that the moon was MINE.

As an adult, I can analyze this and see the ecogentricism of where I was and even how the moon “followed” me. But don’t you pretend for one second that you don’t understand the magic, because even as adults we crave that connection to the sky.

Why do you think cars have sunroofs and car makers have convertibles?

I’ll never be without a sunroof again.

When is the last time you took a minute to look up at the clear night sky? What’s stopping you from connecting with the child who looked at the moon and wondered if there was really a man up there?

Things that made us happy then can make us happy again.