My former parents-in-law, may they rest in peace, were in Las Vegas once when their car broke down. My dad-in-law, the practical one, argued in favor of getting the car fixed there and driving home, while my mom-in-law, the wildly impractical one, insisted on getting the car home first, then getting it fixed here.
Well, mom never started an argument she didn’t intend to win. So they hired a tow truck and had themselves hauled all the way home from Las Vegas to San Bernardino. And they didn’t sit up front with the driver, either. No, they sat regally in their own car and floated along behind the truck. Mom probably gave the queen’s wave to fellow motorists all the way home.
Dad did not enjoy the journey. He was horrified by the expense of it. And the spectacle of it. He never would talk much about it later.
Mom, however, had the time of her life. She never tired of recalling it. It was one of her favorite stories.
One of mine, too.