taking over the driver's seat

No matter where we've been, Quincy loves returning home. As soon as we pull into the garage, he is chompin' at the bit, desperate to get out of his seat and jump into the driver's seat.

He likes it best when the dogs and I are his passengers.

I'm not sure if the feeling is mutual.

At the moment, the most popular destinations are the zoo, the museum, or Staglands.

It brings back sweet memories of my dad's 1950s black Oldsmobile. I loved stealing away to the garage and pretending I had my driver's license. Or hopping in the back seat pretending I was someplace exotic and it was a taxi. Or imagining I was at the drive-in watching Footloose.

Anyway, no matter how long I let him stay in his driving fantasy land, it ends in protests, and more often than not, a few short-lived tears.

And now everytime I get in the car I have to figure out how to turn off that bloody rear windshield wiper.