Buckle the fucking seatbelt - a public service announcement

When we were kid-free, either dating or married. I don't know. After kids, it all jumbles together. But pre-kiddos, Ricardo raced. You betcha. He raced on the dirt track. Now, I was shocked just as much as you may be right now that Ricardo loved racing. He's not your average NASCAR fan. But he loves it, and he's brilliant, so I went with it. He got a car and rebuilt the engine, or whatever. Got himself a suit, cute fireproof shoes, and a helmet that is now used for our entertainment for when Max puts it on. He looks like a bobble head.

Ricardo raced for a couple of years until the kids came along and, um, well, revamped his idea of a dream. On occasion, I was his crew chief. Granted, I sucked at it. When it was just me there to help him, he was pretty much on his own should something go bad. One night it went bad. And Ricardo's nightmare came true, he had to rely on me, the one who thinks that mechanics are magic makers. Ricardo was in a bit of a wreck. It looked horrific, but he came off to fix it, so it couldn't have been that bad. There's some kind of rule where if you leave the track and can make it back on before the caution is over, you can stay in the race. And that's what he was trying to do. He got out, bent some stuff back, checked some stuff out and then got back in his car to go out and finish the race. The problem was, he had his gloves on and his helmet on and was trying to buckle a five-point harness similar to what I am now a pro at snapping together, it's basically a children's car seat where everything has to stack and meet precisely at the buckle. I had come down to help, and when I say help, I mean, maybe offer him some water. Unless he needed a hammer, he was on his own, because that's the only tool I can decipher from the others. It'd be like Lassie, "Hurry girl...the hammer! Run!" Hahahah. Anyhoo, I was basically just there asking him if he was okay and did he need any water. He couldn't get the seatbelt buckled and I was just standing there, and they were about to re-start the race. I, now, understand his frustration. But at the time, I didn't take too kindly to his inevidible expression of emotion when he looked up at me and screamed:
"BUCKLE THE FUCKING SEATBELT!"

I was shocked. He was too, I think, but desperate, none the less. I gave him the glare. You ladies know the glare I'm talking about. If you're married, you know it. Use it sparingly. If you're not married, it's something you acquire and is not to be trifled with. Own the glare. Overusing it can stifle it's power. So, I gave him the glare and walked away. Leaving my sweet precious man to fend for himself. To my defense, I didn't know how to buckle the seatbelt. And me trying would have really made matters worse. If I remember correctly, he didn't get to finish the race.

Ladies, back off my man. It was his moment of rage. This is worthy of telling the story because the man is so laid back that everyone who knows him is kind of shocked when I tell it, but proud of him all the same. "Wow, you said that to her...you have gigantic cajones!" With all the adrenaline and problem-solving, he doesn't even remember saying it. I reminded him, he apologized. He was as shocked as I was that he said it. I'm pretty sure he's never screamed at me since that fateful day. I've never cast the glare since. All is right with the world.

Yet the phrase, "Buckle the fucking seatbelt!" Just rings in my head on occasion. It's not some flashback of when my man was mean to me, but an expression that constantly rings true. I cannot believe how in this day and age that people don't buckle their kids' seatbelts. I just can't believe it.

Case numero uno is my frikkin preschool teacher's kid. That's right. You read that correctly. When I drop my kids off, my preschool teacher's kid who is maybe a year older, but smaller in size, so still needs to be in a car seat, not a booster, a car seat, he gets picked up by one of her friends or maybe a family member. A lady picks him up and takes him to school. First of all, her kid is a toddler and inconsistently buckled. And then she just gets him in the car and drives off. Doesn't buckle, doesn't check to see if he's buckled. He never is. And there you go, two kids under the age of 6 potentially catapulting into the windshield all because you didn't want to hear them whine about it or take the time to buckle their FUCKING SEATBELTS!???

I'm to the point where I see this all the time. People driving in front of me or by me, kids STANDING UP in the car. Kids as young as three. And this is no discriminating offense, people. I've seen the beat up truck pull up to a convenience store with 3 adults and 7 kids, most of which were laying on the floorboard of the truck. I've seen that. But I've also seen a frikkin Lexus drive by with a carseat in the back, securely fastened with the toddler standing right next to it. It's absurd.

Case numero dos: Today, I'm driving down the road, and there's three kids sitting in their seats. It's a balmy 47 degrees out, so I guess they have the windows down. The only reason I know this is because one of the kids is launching candy, I think it was red hots. He thinks it's funny, but they are hitting my precious minivan. I'm getting more and more ticked each time he does it until the kid next to him stands up while they are driving. They all start moving in the back and I see that not one of them are buckled. However the driver is buckled. The kid continues to launch red hots at me and so I promise myself to throw my car into park and tell the guy his kids are throwing candy out the window and to BUCKLE THEIR FUCKING SEATBELTS. I assure myself that this could be a lesson to everyone involved. We approach a light, I'm wishing a green light to turn red, and that's when the guy turns. For a moment I consider following him into the subdivision he just turned into, but instead, I floor it, and lay on the horn. The old man didn't really care, but it scared the pants off the kids in the back, because I threw in the glare.

I feel better atleast. I am really tired of griping about this issue to Ricardo or my girl Julz. I'm sure they are too. So I resolve to tell it to the people who need to hear it. At any opportunity, that's safe, because really, THAT would be counter productive. I resolve to tell it to them. So, if you're rolling around Nebraska and you see a six foot woman coming at you with the glare, just tell yourself one thing: BUCKLE THE FUCKING SEATBELT! I'll reiterate that message when I get to your window. This time, it'll be out of desperation of your safety and mine.

Don't give me that crap about, "Well, back in my day we didn't have seatbelts" or "I held my babies in my lap on the way home from the hospital." Yeah, well, we didn't have gigantor muscles of steel, the highest rate of drowsy and drunk drivers, or mothers who have miscalculated how much zoloft to pop on the way to Johnny's tball game. We didn't have cell phones, sports cars for handicapped people, cigarettes and coffee holders, cd players, and mp3 players to fiddle with. It's a new world of faster and bigger cars and unyielding distractions which makes a wreck happen faster and worse. Ricardo was right. It's THAT important and urgent.

That's how I roll.