2 steps back

I needed a boost last night. Not like a pep talk or a boob job or a drink. Up here, 'boost' means it's too cold to live and not even a heavy duty car battery can hold life energy, and you have to stand outside in the filthy blizzard with your face freezing off and attach booster cables with skidoo-mittened hands. So I needed one.

So my dad says, "Isn't your car a standard? We can just give it a push start." My dad's easy breezy fix-it ideas always work, let's get that straight; but they're never easy or breezy. So I says, "Yes, sure." What follows:

He pulls his car up behind the honda, thinking to gently nudge it to life. But the bumpers don't really match, and he doesn't want to wreck the grill of his car, so he turns the car around backwards. BACKWARDS.

Then, on the coldest, shittiest night on record in the world, he proceeds to drive BACKWARDS into my car and push me BACKWARDS down a busy street. So people are freaking out, they don't know why he's in their lane; he can't see the traffic lights and keeps trying to push me through intersections to my death. And I can't get it started. We keep hopping out and conferring as to just how to pop it into gear once we're rolling and what to do with the clutch. And it's so cold we're actually hopping up and down and covering our faces with our hands and stuff.

But did it work? You bet your red long johns it did.

I'll really miss these shenanigans when I'm rich. Rich and warm and sitting by my stone fireplace and

Oh, bother.