If Dad was driving, calling “front seat” meant access to the radio, the heater or air conditioner, a guaranteed window seat. At the last pick up, maybe the teeny Hartnett girl would sit next to me; she was the smallest person in the whole school.
The backseat was a traveling “Lord of the Flies.” Eight kids, ages 6-12, of varying sizes, smells and levels of impulse control, packed into one seat. Four or five across and the rest sitting on the kids who are already sitting. This was before the one-child-to-a-seatbelt rule.
I hated the days the Armstrongs drove. They were farthest from us and by the time they got to our house, Mitch and Carrie, Kevin and Kelly, Kent and Robin are in the car. I’m sitting on someone’s lap for sure. The Armstrong parents were nice, but they weren’t funny and more often than not, we didn’t talk much on that ride.
 |
| The way-way back, AKA the back-back |
Only the O’Reilly’s had a vehicle of size: a wood paneled station wagon with a way-way back. Five kids could slide around back there in comfort and the middle seat had room for people and bookbags. Even the front seat was bench-style and Kevin and Kelly rode up there. Mrs. O’Reilly had a zest for life which meant Kelly could play any radio song she wanted and Mrs. O would know the words, sing along, her pearl-in-gold ring tapping on the steering wheel.
On cool spring days, I would ride my bike. They pass me in the car on the way to school. I throw my hands above my head. I have escaped the island.
I remember Mrs. O'Reilly belting out songs during carpool. I always thought that was brazen and cool.
ReplyDelete