I was at dinner in DC last night with some dear old friends who just moved to the city when I got a text message from my husband.
(Welcome Ted and Jackie!)
His message said:
Is this where you parked my truck?
He sent it with the following picture:
Why no, that's not where I parked your pick-up.
I parked it up at the farm shop.
In a parking spot.
Somehow it ended up about 50 yards downhill ... in a field.
Come on people, I drive an automatic. Emergency brakes are not a part of my everyday routine.
I feel like there should be some kind of checklist for starting, operating and parking these things.
If these little incidents keep happening to me, I'll never get to drive the fun stuff like tractors and big trucks around here.
Apparently, I can't even handle a pick-up.