Dee says I’m a back seat driver, but I beg to differ. I sit in front, so he hasn’t a leg to stand on… er, a seat to sit on.
He’s so ungrateful. And after all the times I’ve saved his life! I can’t even begin to count how many times I’ve come to the rescue when he’s about to swerve off the road or hit the car in front of us.
I’ve mastered the art of warding off pending crisis. It’s in the execution of the perfect intake of air. You suck in a quick, sharp breath, sorta like an asthma attack. Try it now. That’s it, fill your lungs… form your throat into a yawning position… now project it. You got it! I credit that sound, sometimes known as the Wheeze-Thrust-Maneuver, with saving lives every day all over the world.
“DON’T DO THAT!” Dee screeches at me. “You almost made me get in an accident!” Oh, like I didn’t just save our lives. Sheesh!
I take my co-piloting very seriously. Somebody has got to watch the road! (Watch the road, will yo...