Once upon a time, I had a family. Like many families-- some of our family members were weird--- a few were oddly-funny--- and several were--down-right-- scary. In the case of my mother’s
first cousin-- I preferred to call her “unusual.” The cousin was less than five feet tall so most of her family and friends called her “Shorty.”
From the time
Shorty began driving, she had a problem seeing over the steering wheel. The cousin tried boxes, pillows, a child’s car seat—but nothing worked to her satisfaction. When she spotted an extra- small car on a used car lot, it only took fifteen minutes
to trade her regular-sized car for the teeny-tiny one. BUT—unfortunately-- the small car’s driver seat failed to raise her high enough to solve the “seeing over the steering wheel” problem.
Of course, she never asked my opinion but I thought the small car looked and sounded like a clown-car—something you’d see a Jokester or Clown drive in a hometown parade.
Completely unconcerned about what others thought (this is where the word “unusual” comes into play), the day came when Shorty unscrewed the wooden toilet seat from her toilet, carried it outside, and placed it in
the driver’s seat of her new car. She then raised the toilet seat’s lid, climbed on the open toilet seat and—swishing her tail around like she was ready to lay an egg—commented:
“Oooooh--Finally--- my butt feels so good--- right at home!” Best or Worst of all, the toilet seat raised her to the perfect height to see above the car's steering wheel.
I cringed every time I saw her driving the clown car around Pine Bluff--- knowing she was sitting on an open toilet seat! Most mortifying of all--- Shorty insisted on keeping a roll of toilet paper over the back seat---
in plain view---just in case.