I don't think that the necessity of having to drive, often sooner rather than later, due to the lack of consistant public transportation and the low priority to provide same in most of the US is eye-rolly; just the whole car thing in our culture. It's a tool. It gets me from Point A to Point B. It is not an extention of my personality, a validation of my financial sucess, or a valid excuse to authorize my government to support my driving cheaply by any and all means.

When in Europe, the thing I loved the most was not needing a car to get to practically anywhere on the continent. I came home determined I would never own a car. I did, of course, end up needing to own several, and the stress and anxiety it caused in me was legion. I'm profoundly grateful and lucky that I don't need a car to get to work or to do many of my daily necessary errands, I can walk easily or take public transportation. But still, I'd be lying if I said I wasn't relieved we have the old crappy reliable Escort to go to Target, grocery shopping, the farm, visit my parents, etc.

Anyway.

I was 11 when my granddaddy taught me to drive a tractor and a truck. I promptly dented his truck while driving too fast down a little country path to the Back 40. I don't think I was allowed to drive again until I was 14.

This reminds me, when I was driving up to ABQ with the family last week, my brother regaled us with tales of the death defying stupid shit he did in high school (some of which I already knew, some not.) Involved cars a lot. Later, mom said she knew he'd been an idiot then, but how in the hell had he survived?!!

I had to laugh. What she doesn't know (still) is some of the stupid shit he pulled even after that, while in the Army. With guns and things that go boom and fast cars and nitrogen boosters and ...

He's much more sane or, I guess, more mindful of the mortality thing (when he races his car now , it's after practicing with a professional driver at a licensed track with safety equiptment and EMTs and fire extinguishers and other professional drivers, not highway 82 at 4 am with no headlights and a bunch of inebriated punks driving daddy's dream car or a junker with a monster for an engine.)

Huh. I was 11 when my dad had me drive the pickup to the Back 40. The truck had an automatic and a fast idle, so I was a little freaked out by it going 25 mph without me touching the gas. I did OK, except I parked it on a hill and left it in neutral. (Luckilly, it didn't roll anywhere.)

First car I drove was my cousin's soon-to-be-MIL's station wagon out on farm roads. I was 10?11? I still think my cousin was insane, but really, corn wasn't even high enough for us to have damaged the car if we couldn't manage to drive straight.

My problem was I had gotten used to the speed of the truck (over, say, a bicycle or 3-wheeler), but wasn't aware enough of spatial differences to realize that I couldn't bank around a particular tree with crunching into the one on the other side. I'll never forget that sound.

My dad let me steer the car a few times (I leaned over from the front passenger seat while he took care of the pedals) when I was in junior high, and my sister took me out for my first car driving lesson when I was 15, down country roads that were still only gravel-paved, but are now double-laned and surrounded by subdivisions.

I also remember the time we were done with our swimming lessons at the local motel (indoor pool with annual fees for the local residents and lessons offered made a great YMCA alternative in the years before the Y finally opened a branch nearby), and the parking lot was a bit slick and very empty, so Dad did a few donuts. We kids were shrieking in delight, and Mom was yelling, "Karl, for God's sake, stop it!"

I thought I bookmarked this discussion, but apparently not. Can anyone remind me how to put a Netflix account on hold?

So. Yeah. I read all of Ezekiel 4. I'm stuck between wishing the people selling it had, and hoping they haven't.

Because context is important.

Heh. Oh, dear.

Meet the ex-gay penguins. Seriously.

From the Focus on the Family No-Moo-Lies site:

Meet Roy and Silo...
...two penguins living in Manhattan's Central Park Zoo.

A few years back, they started spending a lot of time together — and became celebrities as Manhattan's "most famous gay penguin couple." Even the zoo started selling books to kids about the two male penguins who loved each other.

Then something happened that messed it all up: Silo met Scrappy, a female penguin from California.

Silo ditched Roy and built a nest with Scrappy. They've even started trying to have kids.

It just goes to show: Penguins can change.

Why can't we base our behavior on what animals do?

Why can't we get rid of stupidity?

eta: Warning - the No-Moo-Lies front page has an annoying (and stupid) voiceover....