I am in the driver's seat. I check instinctively for cops in the rear view mirror and breathe deeply to find nothing blue and red flashing back at me. The car is moving high speed down a dark one lane road thick with overhanging trees on both sides. One headlight is out as the other shines down the dark corridor creating shadows of branches that reach out to slow the vehicle down by dragging its boughs down the sides like nails on a chalkboard as it barrels into the darkness. I look down and realize my white knuckles are holding nothing but clenched fists. That's when I notice the passenger. Turning on the interior light I find a round face with eyes gleaming wide and crazed, scanning the road ahead through the front windshield. It is the three or four year old me, Oreo cookie crumbed mouth open, with a devilishly ecstatic leering smile sitting in a toddler car seat. He is strangling a mini steering wheel with chubby hands, sticky with apple juice. He is driving the fucking car. I have seen this too many times. "Zaaaack," I croon. "Give me back the wheel please." I try this knowing there is no way this will work. "NO NO NO NO NO!!!!!!!!!" He squeals as the car swerves like a pinball down straightaway.
I realize that he can't possibly give up this power that I unwittingly bestowed upon him. I calmly take a deep breath and reach over, slowly prying each of his dirty sweaty sausages off the wheel while he screams and tries to bite my hands, sobbing. "It's ok, buddy," I lovingly try to soothe him as I take the steering wheel back. "I'm going to drive now." The sobbing and screaming abruptly cease after a few seconds as I realize he has passed out from his tantrum. I slow the car down, turn on the brights, reach over and brush the hot wet bangs off his forehead. "It's ok buddy. I'm going to drive now."
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