Driving with Soup
This one is from our personal history.
Years ago, Tommy calls me up one day at work, and he says, "Our sister Lucille is sick and she needs some care. I'll make her some chicken soup, if you will deliver it to her."
So after work, I show up at his house and and he's pouring chicken soup into this plastic container, and he's mumbling something about not being able to find the right cover for it.
So we try one cover and it pops off. We put another cover on. It pops off. And he says, "Well, do your best. I try to put tape on it." The tape won't stick to the plastic. And he says, "Be careful, because you could make a mess with this thing."
So I carefully carried it out to the car and I put it on the floor in the front, on the passenger side. And with great trepidation, I pull away from the curb worried that the slightest little abrupt stop or turn is gonna spill this stuff all over the place.
Now I realize as I'm driving that my house is between his house and her house, and I should stop off at home to see the wife and kids and the hounds and maybe have supper.
So, in fact, I do that. I stop at home. I go to the house. Exchange pleasantries. The dogs come and greet me. And I have supper. Then I sit in front of the TV and I fall asleep watching Buffy, the Vampire Slayer.
Hours later, I wake up remembering that my sister is probably at the front door, clawing at the door, waiting for the chicken soup. I grab a few old National Geographic magazines and some fruit and I jump in the car and I drive to her house, which is several miles from my house.
During this drive, I'm never once concerned that I'm going to spill the soup, and in fact, I don't spill a drop of it. Although I was very concerned when I left Tommy's house. In fact, I drive like a maniac.
And the question is, why was I not concerned driving from my house to her house?
Now, it has nothing to do with the National Geographic magazines or the fruit.
