Woman Proud: Didn't Poop When Brakes Failed

Sometimes I’m an enigma even to myself. Occasionally, some weird feat I perform astounds me and fills me with pride. For instance, I just learned that I can drive a large SUV with no brakes and not soil myself.

During a routine shopping trip with Lil’ K. and Lil’ P. last Saturday, I attempted to slam on brakes behind some douchebag who stopped suddenly to turn and didn’t give a signal. Instead of feeling that comforting pressure the brake pedal usually exerts, my foot got a speedy trip to the floorboard.

I swore loudly.

“Don’t say that, Mama,” said Lil’ K.

“Oh, dit, dit, dit, ditty, dit, dit!” called Lil’ P.

Luckily, my brain flipped to autopilot, and I spied a gap between the stopped car and a deep ditch. I eased the wheel to the right and rode the high side of the gully on two tires. The speedometer read 45 mph. Grass and mud flew behind me like a cigarette boat rooster tail.

“WAHOOOOOO!” Lil’ K. hollered from the backseat, “Go, Mama, go!”

“GEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!” added Lil’ P. “Dit, dit, dit!”

“My sentiments exactly, Buddy,” I told him, as we hit a pothole and caught air.

We landed back on the road with only a modicum of swerve. Luckily, there were no other cars in front of me. Unfortunately, I was heading down a steep hill. Noticing the speedometer creeping up past sixty, I threw the truck in the lowest gear.  It moaned in protest like an angry tractor trailer and reluctantly slowed enough for me to get it off the road. I finally remembered the emergency brake and mashed it before I crashed us into a cornfield. I could hear carseats jerk forward and hit the backs of the seats.

“Mama, you jerked us!” cried Lil’ K. Lil’ P. cackled and squealed.

I breathed slowly, leaning my head back against the seat, while my children laughed in the back.

“That was fun,” hollered Lil’ K. “Can we do it again?”