My papa. An old drawing from the days of Monkey Whimsy.
My first (and only) car was a black Honda Civic that I shared with my sister.
After we graduated college and my sister moved across the country, the Honda became solely mine.
And I loved it.
That little car gave me a sense of freedom like no other.
But, after racking up about a thousand dollars worth of speeding tickets in the span of a month, I decided that my
Recently, my dad called me frantically to give me some news.
Dad: Janice, your car is gone.
Janice: What do you mean?
Dad: I was leaving work, I was tired and there was a lot of traffic on the highway. The car in front of me braked suddenly and I couldn't stop in time. I crashed into the car in front of me and ruined your car.
Janice: WHAT!! DAD, are you okay?!!
Dad: Yeah, but your car is not.
Janice: Dad, I don't care about my car, are you okay?
Dad: I'm sorry about your car.
Janice: Dad, did you go to the hospital?
Dad: No, I'm fine. Your car couldn't be saved though.
Janice: DAD, when it comes to YOU or my car, I couldn't care less about the damn car. Are you sure you're okay, no injuries? 100% OKAY?
Dad: Oh yeah yeah, I'm fine. The entire front half of your car was destroyed and unsalvageable.
Janice (giving up on steering the conversation back to my papa): That's okay, Dad.
Dad: Just wanted to tell you that the Honda is no more.
DAD, JUST GLAD YOU GOT OUT OF THE ACCIDENT UNSCATHED.
My dad clearly thought my Honda was a member of the family the way he broke the news to me.
I do miss my bat mobile though.
It was good while it lasted.