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.
Last week I was on the road again, following the same route I told you about here. Many of the same landmarks were there, with the exception of the sign advertising LEATHER and WOOD; of that, only the frame remained. It was a little late for much fall colour; many of the trees were already bare. But from time to time I saw flashes of gold and bronze shining in the sunlight among the greens and browns. And I saw something that was very interesting.
It caught my eye as I approached an intersection and happened to glance at the opposite side of the road. And there they were - stocks, standing by the side of the road in a small patch of grass and surrounded by shrubs.
I wasn't in a theme park, or driving through a historical site. Why would stocks be displayed on a highway? To deter speeders? Was it a Hallowe'en decoration? How long had they been standing there?
As it happened, before setting out that morning I had glanced at a few blogs, and had seen a picture of a bare-bottomed young lady, restrained in stocks and awaiting her punishment. This was truly a happy coincidence.
I took careful note of the name of the next village I passed through and resolved to take a closer look on my way back. The anticipation made the long drive home after a tiring day something to look forward to.
The sun was low on the horizon when I passed through the village that was my landmark, and I started watching the roadside carefully. Finally, I spotted the stocks again, and slowed slightly. There was a sign or plaque nearby, presumably a historical marker of some sort. Should I stop or carry on?
A small voice told me to seize the moment. I pulled off the road, turned around and headed back. The stocks were quite tall, made of wood and fastened together with rusted metal hinges and a large padlock. The sign explained that this was the former site of a jail, and that both stocks and a pillory had been set up next to it many years ago. I didn't know what a pillory was, but found this picture, and it seems that there isn't much difference, except in height.
There's also a dual version. Twice the fun, I suppose. Or more efficient.
Travelling is so much fun.
I'm going on a short trip soon, and Ron has decided to let me take his car because it's more comfortable for driving long distances. (He doesn't like me to call it "his car" but he probably won't read this, so it'll be our secret.)
We have two cars. One is mine. I'm not supposed to say that either. It's our car but I drive it to work every day and we use it whenever we need to transport something large or messy. Then there's his car our other car, which is newer; I'm only allowed to drive it under exceptionable circumstances, like when the other car is in the shop.
So, I feel quite privileged. And nervous. Ron outlined the rules for me.
"No food in the car."
"No, Sir."
"No drinks in the car."
"No, Sir."
"No breathing in the car No driving over parking bumpers."
"I'll try not to this time, Sir."
"No parking near other cars or under trees."
"I'll do my best, Sir."
"There will be a thorough inspection when you get home."
"And you'll administer the appropriate discipline depending on what you find?" I smiled hopefully.
"No! There will be no discipline. . . I walked right into that one, didn't I?"
Oh, well. Maybe I'll get a welcome home spanking if the car passes inspection. And I know he'll make sure I'm not all that comfortable when I set out in the morning.
What would you do if you saw this hanging on the door of the hotel room next to yours?
Try it yourself here and take it with you next time you travel.
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