Adventures in my icy driveway this morning reminded me of this day, January 25th, 2010, when the Short Kid would have been only nine. (As an aside, January 1st was my blog’s 9th birthday. Woohoo!)
Anyway, on with the four year old story…
Had a little adventure this morning I could have lived without. It started raining during the night and, while it didn’t freeze, it washed away the protection of packed snow and crud built up over old ice. The roads were fine taking TK to school, but then I backed into our driveway. It’s got a good slope to it, and I parked at the top where the tar was bare so SK and I could get out without slipping and sliding as we did trying to get it in. Our truck’s an access-cab, which means my door has to stay open to open the back door, which opens backwards. I opened that and, as I helped SK out, the truck started moving backward.
So I sort of tossed SK (who’s a bit heavy) toward the neighbor’s driveway and reached in to push the brake, which stopped the truck. Not realizing it was my weight against the open door that actually stopped it, I reached my right hand up to the steering column to make sure it was in park. Then I switched hands so I could push down the e-brake. I moved a little bit. So did the truck. Shitshitshitshit.
SK: Do you want me to put a rock behind the tire?
Sure, ’cause having my child crouch down behind 3000 pounds of rolling vehicle is an awesome idea!
Me: No! Stay in the neighbor’s driveway until I tell you to move.
SK: Maybe you should call Dad.
Thanks a lot, kid. I’d rather Dad not know anything about this, but since he’s more often than not greeted at the door with “Dad! Guess what Mom did today!”, that’s not going to happen.
So with few options, I walked the truck back a little bit, until it seemed to grab and it stopped. Okay. But now I’ve got to get SK behind the truck to the door so, just to be safe, I pushed a little on the door. The truck took off backwards down the ice like there was an Olympic gold metal at the bottom.
I had a split second to choose between me trying to stop it or sacrificing the front porch. About the time I was drafting my “Honey, about the porch…” speech, the truck stopped again, a few feet shy of the house.
I threw some blocks behind the wheels and called it good at that point. Of course, now I’m wondering if I should have thrown it in four-wheel-drive up at the top, while the front tires were on clean tar. I know that makes all four wheels turn, but I don’t know if it makes all four wheels not turn in park.
Anyway, it was an interesting adventure for 7:30 on a Monday morning. Now I have SK—who’s home with a stomach ache—looking out the front window every two minutes to tell me if the truck’s moved.
(End of four year old story, LOL.)