Thanks For: Winter Slip N Slides

Dear Giant Icy Hill of Death,

I used to be convinced that the river was going to overflow, flooding the city, and only those of us who lived on the hill would be safe. I was thankful for you hill. Now, I have a car, it’s winter, and I’m a little less thankful and a little more ‘WHEEEEEEE!”

That’s a whee of “wheeee are all going to die because this hill is large and covered in ice and there are three stoplights that require attempted stopping on the Giant Hill of Icy Death plus a bridge at the end! With water! And Ice! And rapids! And a big ol’ dam!”. Guess who can actually stop on the Giant Icy Hill of Death? No-one. It’s one giant slip n slide. Not that snow sliding isn’t fun, I just prefer it to be on a toboggan. Or skis. Or snowboard. Or really anything not a car, I’m Canadian, ice is part of life.

But here comes the thanks people who live on the Giant Icy Hill of Death, those of us who are stuck on the ‘wrong’ side of the river’, we’ve become fabulous now drivers simply by necessity.

Everyone slides all over the place on that hill. Everytime. You see fishtails everywhere. Going up and down.

But rarely crashes.

No bumps. No bangs. No ditches. No rolls. No sliding into oncoming traffic. Just a lot of revving engines, sliding, fishtailing, and spinning tires. But rarely does anyone get hurt. We’ve learned. The Giant Icy Hill of Death teaches its students well. It forces parents living on the hill to take their children our for ‘Giant Icy Hill of Death’ sliding training. We are well equipped for winter.

Also it’s like a community. You’re sliding? ME TOO! I won’t honk at you. I see you’re stuck-ish. Let’s push together! I don’t mind that you’re only going 20. I get that you may be new to the Giant Icy Hill of Death. It’s terrifying. You’ll get use to it.

And when we did hit? Little bumps because everyone knows what the’re doing. No-one gets mad. Just pull over the car. Look at it. Shrug. Smile. Silly hill. Really. I’ve seen it more than once. It’s amazing.

Thank you great teacher, Giant Icy Hill of Death, for showing us your secrets.

Aria

Advertisements

Thanks For: Backseat Driving Little Brothers

Dear Overly Cautious Hedgehog of a Brother,

I know that its *our* car but if you insist on dramatically flinging yourself against the window in fear and criticizing the space distance between cars then I will relegate you to the backseat. All 6 foot 5 of you. Stuffed in the backseat. Knees banging your chin. This goes doubly if you ever again attempt to touch the steering wheel. DO NOT TOUCH.

I was just being a superb big sister and picking you up in the dead of night to bring you from your University home of filth and squallor to the Kingdom of Mother’s cooking and laundry service. Do you know what I was missing on your behalf? The latest episode of my current favourite tv show. I missed my OTP and the shipping. Then I got spoiled by tumblr. All for you little brother.

And yet you think you’re hilarious by dramatically hanging off the door every time I make a turn or by over-flinching each time we stop. “Slow down. You’re speeding. What if you hit a deer? You need to leave 3 seconds between you and the car in front of you. Stop stopping so fast. turn RIGHT NOW. You should have known that even though you don’t live in this city. You should signal sooner.”

You are such a baby driver. Also I will lovingly turn up the country music as loud as it goes until I can no longer hear you. And I know how much you love country  music.

So little brother. Thanks for the driving lesson, I’m glad that you’re so invested in my safety. I’m thankful that you think you’re hilarious as I’m told it’s good for the self esteem.

Just stop doing it when I’m driving,

Aria