winning My car

As I was resting Saturday afternoon before going to a dinner banquet, the phone rang. “Are you listening to the radio!?” You won the car!” If you don’t want it, we can draw another name.”
As the caller explained more about the car and its worth. I figured, “Hey! If nothing else, we can sell it.”
I told her we were on our way to pick it up. My kids were excited. My husband began making plans for the car. When he saw it, he said it had a Thunderbird body.
I thought it looked like a cute, little white car with lots of red, white, blue and orange decorations. It fit into the back of our mini-van.
I had been told it was a mini-car and would not fit an adult.
I am an adult. At five feet ten inches, I am a fairly tall adult.
After my husband put a couple tablespoons of oil in the engine, and my son filled it up with a quart or two of gas, we all tried it on for size.
Papa Bear was too big. He slid legs in, but his feet were trapped away from the pedals.
Mama Bear was too big. Her elbows and knees stuck out everywhere.
Brother Bear was too big. He stood over the cushioned seat and wished the fiberglass body was gone.
But Little Sister Bear was juuussst right. She slid into the car like a movie star and said, “Start it up” and took off down the street in the open topped Thunderbird, her blond hair flying.
She was zooming away from the house with MY car! As far as I knew, she had never driven anything other than a bicycle.
I started after her, “Slow down! You’re going too fast.”
She sped recklessly around the corner at 15 miles per hour.
“You bring me back my car! Bring it back right now. That’s MY car.”
She was too far away and the lawnmower engine on the go-cart was too loud.
When she returned her face frozen in a trance of fear and excitement, she stopped the mini-Thunderbird at my feet. “Wow! That goes fast around the corners.”
“You’re suppose to slow down around the corners,” Brother Bear grumbled. He was itching to ride, too, but that cute fiberglass body was in his way. He went to fetch some tools.
As we left for our banquet, Brother Bear was loosening the bolts that held the body in place over the go-cart.
Everyone was seated and being served when we arrived at the banquet.
I explained, “We would have been here on time, but I won a car and we had to go get it.”
As the look of awe spread over their faces, I said, “Yep, it’s about this long and this wide. It’s a go-cart with a fiber-glass body.”
When they heard bout my car, our lateness was excused.
The next day Sister Bear stopped the go-cart by running into something.
The day after that, she took a corner too fast and had her first personal injury accident. While Brother Bear checked out the go-cart before taking it home, I checked out her injuries. Ticketed her for failure to yield the right of way and reckless driving, then suspended her license.
It’s MY car. I’ll make the rules and enforce them anyway I want.