Inanna and the SUVs

There are several reasons why I do not drive an SUV. 1) I can't afford one. They cost almost as much as my house. At the current payment on my compact car it would take me 22 years to pay off a Ford Expedition. It would take me 9 1/4 years to pay it off at my current house payment. It would still take 6 1/2 years to pay it off combining my car and house payment. It better come loaded because I'd be living out of that bitch. 2) If I can't afford the payment I sure as hell can't afford the gas. 3) I simply should not be placed in control of such a monstrosity, like most people who drive them. I drive a Sunfire, 5 in the floor. I will not own a vehicle without a stick shift. Yes, I love the feel of the stick in my hand. I can't help it. Its as much an addiction as smoking and blogging. I love it. I love horsepower. Not so much speed, as power. However, my good friends in the NW allowed me to get behind the wheel of their brand new SUV. Why? Because I was the only sober one. I was left in charge of my friend's brand new husband (I was maid of honor while I was there) and two of her brothers. I'll call them Brother Z, Brother B and Brother T and that SUV. We were on the Columbia River, standing around the woodstove drinking, them beer, me water. (I had a run in with the best people and the best tequila I've ever been completely blasted on, but that's for another post.) When we got ready to leave I have to adjust everything as Brother B had been driving before. He's 6'5", I'm 5'3". I followed one of Brother Z's friends out to the secondary. When he popped up on the road he went into the oncoming lane. The Brothers are stoked, "He wants to race." SHIT!!! There's a fairly long straight stretch ending with a gentle rise blocking the view of oncoming traffic. I'm the type of person that when folks around me get stoked, fuck it, I'm stoked too. I now have three grown men egging me on. Fuck it. I punched that bitch. Brother Z is in shotgun and I see him go slamming backwards. I now have tunnel vision. I'm not looking at anything but the open road and am only conscious of my foot laying on the gas pedal like I'm squashing a bug the size of Washington itself. I lay that bitch wide-open and she's gaining that wild momentum like the crazy woman behind the wheel. We smoke that wannabee. Just one small problem and what I don't know, is... the onramp to the Interstate is right over that little rise. Brother B and Brother T don't know this either because, like me, are not from WA. Brother Z knows this though. He takes up the call first, "We gotta turn! Slow down!" Bitch is still wide open. Brother T and Brother B sensing impending danger also take up the call, "Shit! Slow down! Slow down! We gotta turn." I'm coming down from this massive power high and see the turn myself. In a split second I know I'm going to flip this bitch unless... I slam on the brakes, throwing the Brothers against their seatbelts (I think someone lost a filling) and the moment I execute the turn I punch it again, knowing if I don't I'll lose traction and... oh well, that didn't happen. I blend it with Portland/Vancouver traffic while the Brothers sit in shocked, stunned silence. Brother T, we call him Tweeker, also for another post, is the first to break the silence. "And you're the fucking sober one?!?" Muuahahahahahahhahaaa. This is why I don't drive an SUV. Be very glad.