If...

I don't get spanked as punishment, but if I did, failure to obey one of the many Rules of the Cars is what would get me into trouble.

Ron is very particular about our cars. He cleans them frequently - inside and out - when weather permits. He's diligent about taking them in for regular servicing, and investigates every tiny noise that might signal a possible problem.

Once, just once, I drove away one winter's day without unplugging the car. For those of you who live in warmer climates and might wonder what I'm talking about, here in the north we have heaters that keep the engines warm at night. They prevent the oil from freezing or the gas from congealing or something - I'm not clear on the details - but the main thing is, when you turn the key, the car starts on even the coldest morning.

Anyway, before getting into the car, it's a good idea to unplug the car from the power source before driving. I only forgot once, but Ron's never allowed me to forget it. (And just so you know, he did it once too. And have I ever mentioned it to him? Well, not often.)

He could have just spanked me, and that would have been the end of it. But no. Every morning for the rest of the winter, when I was ready to leave for work, Ron would give me a hug, and just before he kissed me good-bye, would say, "Don't forget to unplug the car."

"I know," I replied for the first few days. I hoped that after a while he would see that I wasn't about to forget again and would stop reminding me. But it went on and on. I would lie awake at night, thinking of sharp retorts that might make him stop the reminders. I would fret and fume all day at work. I'd even refuse to kiss him goodbye if I heard those hated words. Instead, I'd snap "I know, stop reminding me!"

Finally, I gave up. When I got my morning reminder to unplug the car, I simply smiled sweetly and said, "Yes sir, thank you for reminding me, sir." (That didn't sound sarcastic to you, did it?) The reminders stopped like magic. Now, on cold days, Ron goes out and - on the pretext of starting the car and warming it up for me - unplugs it himself.

The other way I could easily get spanked is by backing out of the driveway incorrectly. I figure that as long as I eventually get to the road, then point the car in the direction I want to go, all is well. Ron has other ideas. I need to back out straight, with an equal amount of space on each side. He watches me from the window, and I return his wild gesturing with a friendly wave.

Once, he phoned me at work to say that he had been talking to Pete from next door. Pete had asked him to tell me to please try not to drive across his front lawn each morning. That's a gross exaggeration! And I'm pretty sure Ron made it up.

Just yesterday, I was putting my coat on, and Ron was giving me specific instructions on how and when to turn the steering wheel to back out; the car I was taking happened to be parked on an angle near the house. I nodded, smiled, and as I pulled on my gloves, I asked, "and I can expect a spanking if I don't do it to your satisfaction, right?"

"Oh, no," he replied, then added, "maybe from Pete, though. He gets pretty annoyed when you drive onto his lawn."

Yeah, right.