"I Should Be The One Behind The Wheel"

This week wasn't my best week ever, so I'd like to thank the people I finally broke down and called or IMed or e-mailed or wrote or hung out with, who dropped what they were doing to listen to me. Really, thank you. I had to siphon it off.

But I'm good now. I just needed to have people care, and care they did. So don't worry.

Actually, you might possibly want to worry. Because, okay, Dallan is in New York for the next couple of days. This isn't why you should worry, I'm just starting off the story. Dallan, in New York. He's a good friend of mine, that Dallan -- I don't know if I actually have clearance to say that, but I'll say it anyway, because of what I'm about to tell you. If it's not good friendship (or craziness, but the two usually go hand-in-hand), I don't know what is. See, Dallan has a car; Mr. Saturn as he identified it. But Dallan did not drive to New York from Virginia (Virginia being his usual habitat, at least for now). He flew. From Dulles. So he drove up here, had me drive him to the airport, and let me take his car back to my house for the weekend and a bit. Nice guy, right?

It gets better. The car is manual. I don't drive stick. So he not only let me drive him to the airport, he let me learn to drive stick while taking him to the airport, then trusted me enough to take the car back, all on my own.

I have not exploded. The car has not exploded. We are all fine, and joyriding around town. The last part might be a lie, but the night is still young, my friends. Anyone up for some cruisin'?