Not all sisters are created equal. Yeah…my one sis enjoyed owning a ski boat and an RV. My oldest sister got to drive around the Windy City in a Lotus Europa. I still remember the slogan that came with it:”If you don’t know what it is, you won’t know how to drive it.” Heck-I don’t even know how to spell it, so driving it was not an option. Alas…my fate was driving a Volare station wagon, complete with a tail gate that was propped up with a broom stick. It had no heat in the winter (yeah…I live in Indiana) and the stupid car had car doors that froze open. Ummm, yeah. No typo there: froze OPEN. What car door freezes open? One morning, after dropping the baby off at the sitter, and taking another kid to daycare, I had the dubious pleasure of straining to hold my frozen-open car door closed, as I made my motherly rounds before facing second graders. The Volare and I had a violent morning. It is hard work steering in the snow while battling the inertia of a windswept door. Corners were the worst. It got away from me a time or two and more than one person gasped to see me motoring along with my door open in freezing temperatures. But let me tell you now…I won. Yep. Steered that car into my driveway, got out, slammed the door open and did what any woman would do. I picked up a ratchet that my spouse had left laying around since spring, and broke out a headlight. Felt so good, broke out the other one. Freud was right; catharsis is energizing. So….with my lil’ ratchet in tow, I pummeled the hood. A lot. Looked like hail. Or hell. I can’t really tell you I am proud of my behavior, but I never had to explain it. Never traded that Volare. Nope. It became one of those demolition derby vehicles. I mean…I had primed it for such destiny, right? Just ask my sisters; to this day I am not allowed near any of their vehicles with a ratchet. Go figure.