Backseat drivers.

Last night as I was grabbing groceries out of the backseat of my car, I was slammed in the face with a memory that I have not recalled in years. This is a shame, because it is in fact, one of my favorite memories of all time.

I was nineteen years old and had parked my car in the depths of my backyard ( a five minute drive), to camp on the river that runs through our property. My friend and I became a certain brand of un-sober that I am not inclined to disclose on a public blog.

As the day faded into dark, my anxiety level went through the roof, and I needed to go home and not be out in the cold dark night. As such, my car would need to be relocated to my driveway. However, neither of us were in a state to drive. My friend absolutely INSISTED and forthright DEMANDED to drive my car. After what may or may not have been a 10 minute-2 hour long argument I conceded and handed over my keys. My friend got in my car.

On the passenger side.

In the back seat.

and then was confused as to the now elusive location of the steering wheel.

that shit was fantastic. I can't recall to many other laughing fits that can surmount the hilarity that ensued.

It eventually was agreed that walking back to the house was totally feasible and why we were hell bent on driving through a forest in the dark was beyond comprehension - and our night continued on a path of excellence.