Get out of my dreams....get into my car.

My car is many things to me.

My heart and soul? That's obvious.

But more than that.

Lately it has been a changing room (much to the relief of some bored truckers....not my problem), a dinner table (I am assured to find at least two pounds of shredded lettuce that's dropped off of McChickens and 3-18 Starbucks coffee cups upon vacuuming the Bonne of it's contents), a bed (yes, I look homeless sometimes, sleeping in a stray grocery store parking lot as customers check to make sure I'm not an infant, even though I'm crying softly and in the fetal position), a library (nursing textbooks are too heavy to carry, so since I bought them all together I have adjusted them under the seats as I would on a bookshelf, and pull them out PRN (that's nursing for 'as needed')), and most importantly, a sound booth. Sometimes I just need to sing to destress. And no, I do not get embarrassed when someone catches me belting it out as I drive....I make eye contact with them, and continue singing until it's weird for the both of us. I also yell. If someone or something is frustrating me....I yell. To myself. Very good for stress. Also good for people to not cut the schizophrenic girl in the right hand lane off because they don't want her to follow them to Wal-Mart and murder them slowly in front of their entire family.

My car has lasted me many years and many miles.

In fact, the other day, it, yet again, got me out of a tough situation.

I was hours from my college of nursing, but I had to be at class shortly.

I am not a speeder.

Every time I speed, I get pulled over.

Cops don't like me.

I have cried, joked around, been honest and told them why I was getting pulled over and deserved justice, but no. The only time I've gotten out of a ticket was when I had an asthma attack. Heretofor, I've had an asthma attack the past two times I've been pulled over....and it's been "Warning City" for this gal. Aww yeah....respiratory failure equals cop compassion up in here.

But this time, I made an exception.

I sped. Oh did I speed.

I felt like a rebel. I even rolled the window down and let the wind whip through my hair.

I rolled it back up quickly. Turns out wind whipping through your hair hurts your face.

In order to make sure I didn't get pulled over, I consistently followed someone faster than me. I would watch carefully for....you guessed it, brake lights. The moment that happened, I knew I was just seconds away from a po-po spotting.

I was right.

Brake lights=brilliance.

I can't believe I'm so smart.

Towards the end of my trip, I realized I had compromised my well-known grandma-like driving skills. Sure, I made it on time, but I'm not a speeder. I don't like reckless drivers! I have road rage! I would've yelled at me any other day!

How often do I live my life that way though? I'm doing something that I know isn't right, and I'm just watching for those brake lights to make sure that the people that really count, the people that keep me in check, won't see what I'm doing? Or better yet, I excuse the act for a silly reason? Maybe it's something ongoing, maybe it was the way I spoke to someone or responded in a situation and refuse to right it/fix it, maybe it's whatever just popped into your head!

It's called being a hypocrite, everyone does it, but this is a real kicker for Christians. This is our downfall. This is what others judge us on. Knowing what's right and doing it, knowing what's wrong and not.