The Front Seat

As a child, I would occasionally go with one of my friend's families in their car. Inevitably, one of the siblings would shout, "I get shotgun!" The child with the loudest voice usually won.

As an only child, this was never an issue for me. Now, it is.

We spent yesterday chauffeuring the oldies to various graduation parties. He may be legally blind but he grabs the handle to the front passenger seat like a child yelling, "Shotgun!"

We have the same conversation every time we all head out as a foursome. She would prefer that we take their car. The husband (who drives an SUV) says no, thank you. (They have one of those cars that screams, "Oldies!" The husband would rather run along beside it than be seen driving it.) So, we all take our assigned seats in his car and spend 10 minutes trying to buckle in.

I start getting an attitude. Why is he in the front seat? When did we become party to this oldies mentality of men in the front seat and women in the back?

Remember Archie Bunker? I think I'm channeling his character. I hold my tongue but I want to say, "Meathead, get out of my chair."