There are those times in life when you find yourself securely in the driver's seat. Sometimes it's nice to be the chauffeured passenger. Fully knowing the destination and happy to be taken along. Still other times the strangle hold of being in the backseat is nearly intolerable. At the mercy of the driver, suggestions on where to go answered with rolled eyes and low growls, that backseat driver can see where the vehicle is headed but relinquished control when they climbed into the back.
I'm in themiddlebit of a major situation right now, the enormity of which has yet to truly sink in...sigh...for the past month I have been the zip-tied, duct-taped hostage in the trunk of the jalopy of life. Partially to blame for placing myself directly in the path of this potential situation. Knowingly at risk due to my association (and complete love and dedication to) known offenders. You might even say, "She asked for it." if you were in the habit of blaming victims...but of course, you're not.
The news bulletins will report that the end of this ordeal is in sight. Investigators have determined the direction of the vehicle and estimate that it will run out of gas sooner rather than later. Only time will tell if the victim will run screaming from the car as soon as it comes to a stop. Fully in the grips of Stockholm Syndrome, I predict to happily follow my captor wherever he goes...but for right now...I need your patience.
I'm down. But not out.