The Co-Pilot

I would not call Alex a back seat drive, but a co-pilot. He never tells me where to turn, when to slow down and how to best weave through all the heavy traffic on Branch Hill Guinea Road. But he does give me up to date (like every minute) status reports on the temperature inside and outside, my current speed, my current direction, my current CD selection, the current time (and then the estimated time to our final destination) and how much gas is in the tank (little variance usually occurs on this one).

Our new car – which may really be the shocking detail of this story since I planned to drive my beloved 2001 Pathfinder (that had been through two major wrecks involving both deer and an icy overpass, yet I would always love it for all the great times and places it took us to in Colorado, but finally have to give up because we needed the optional third row to stay in the carpool mix … take a breath) forever – does not have that many more gadgets and readings, so I can only assume Alex’s weekly “letters and numbers” homework is sinking in and keeping him entertained on all our driving excursions.