Life in the Fast Lane

A lifetime ago, I was young and single and care free, living in DC with Allison. When one of our other college friends got married and asked Allison to do a reading, we had to drive up to the Philly area on a Friday afternoon, and hit horrendous traffic, making us almost late to the rehearsal. We were so late, in fact, that I was speeding a long in my little blue Honda Civic and poor Allison had to get dressed for the rehearsal in the passenger seat of the speeding vehicle. From this experience came the classic line — “I am driving 80 miles and hour, and you want me to zip you?!?!?!” It is one of those stories that became a strong part of the shared lexicon of our friendship.

Fast forward almost ten years. Allison’s two daughters are being Christened, and she and her husband have asked me to be their Godmother. So, along with my own two boys, I dutifully drive up to Atlanta from Tampa (an 8-or-more hour journey) to spend the weekend with him. And as I sped along trying to get as far as possible before Nate awoke from his nap while fishing Alex’s sippy cup off of the floor for the umpteenth time, I thought to myself “I am going 80 miles an hour and you want me to reach on the floor behind my back and find your cup?!?!?!?!?!” Over the course of the trip, I found cups, pulled grapes out of a cooler on the floor of the back seat, handed Alex his pillow, stroked Nate’s head, removed Alex’s shoes and socks, told stories, sang songs, and came up with all manner of entertainment, all while going 80 miles an hour. (Note to concerned readers: in a 75 mph zone, on very clear roads; not being a speed demon here).

After our safe arrival in Atlanta, I relayed this story to Allison. I didn’t even have to finish the thought — she had had the same flashback many a time as she did the contorted mommy thing to do something or other to help out her kids while driving.

I thought I was a daredevil as a twentysomething, but being a parent makes me live much more on the edge.