Genius (the boy, not the cat) was allowed to leave school after lunch to travel the county seeking sponsors for the school robot team. Because he was taking along two team members, he needed a bigger vehicle than his Ford Ranger club cab. Apparently, the other boys did not know that Genius had finagled his father's Chrysler Pacifica for the day. Not that it's such a grand car. It's old and we bought it used for the express purpose of beating it to scrap on the highway six days a week. But it IS very roomy on the inside.
The Robot Crew was overheard in the hallway before lunch. "I call passenger seat. You're going to have to ride in the back." (Surely you didn't expect him to call "shotgun". It's the ROBOT Crew. Try to keep up.)
"I guess I'll fit. I'm thin." Said the six-foot sophomore. So it was a bit of an empty threat. These fellas need to work on their intimidation techniques.
Some of the guys saw Genius pull into his assigned slot on the student parking lot this morning. "That's a mom car." Genius laughed. He knew his other option was the $1000 Caravan. Without a speedometer. When he related the tale, I asked if he had informed them that it was a DAD car. Nope. I guess a 17-year-old boy can only take so much embarrassment in one day.
As we left the driveway this morning, I told The Pony I was worried that Genius would forget to open the garage door before backing out. He's used to parking beside the garage. And he's kind of an absent-mined professor about practical everyday life. "Sometimes he's not the sharpest tool in the shed."
The Pony agreed. He put his own spin on it. "He's a few mummies short of a tomb." Perhaps I haven't mentioned that The Pony's vocational dream is to be an Egyptian archaeologist.