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I drove the Foose to lunch for the first time. Not practice, but actual driving in traffic, parking, the whole nine yards. I did pretty good. I didn’t kill it in traffic. I survived several red lights and stop signs and didn’t kill the engine at any of them. Yea, for me. But I did have one problem. I scrapped the under carriage on the curb. I’ve scrapped the paint. Yes, you have to get down on your hands and knees to see it, but I’m still going to take it into the shop and get it fixed. I cannot believe I scratched the paint. I simply could not see how close the front of the car was to the curb. Sigh.
But, it’s fixable. It’s all good. I almost believe that. I was pretty bummed that I smooed the Foose, but it is fixable. In my birth family the first time I fell down and bloodied myself in a serious way, one of my uncles said, “I was a member of a family now.” As if, before I spilled my blood, I wasn’t really-real to them. So, I guess the Foose is now a real car, it has it’s first boo-boo. Of course, I still have a scar from where I spilled my first blood. The Foose will not. But then paint smooths out so much easier than flesh.
We’ll try to get some pictures of me with the car up next week.