As you might know, I was in a car accident a week ago, resulting in my car (which is named Derek Jeter) going in the shop. The repairs have taken longer than I expected, which was a bit of a problem since in the past five days, I had three trips planned—Philly with a couple of cousins and the Princess; the Princess’s college so she could visit with her sweetheart, who's in football camp (I'm sucker for love, what can I say?); and today, to Maine.
We had to rent a car. I asked for a sedan since that’s what Derek Jeter is, but they didn’t have one. Instead, they gave me a hybrid luxury SUV thingie. Black. Tinted windows. I hated it. But then… “Oh,” breathed the Princess. “It’s a Secret Service mobile.”
My hate changed to love. Suddenly, my coolness factor jumped a thousandfold (it was pretty low to begin with, but hey). I did look like a Secret Service agent, just by putting on sunglasses and pretending to talk into my fist! “The Princess is in motion,” I could say. “On our way to intercept the package.” Or something equally mysterious and confusing.
Being higher up than usual gave me a sense of power. The tinted windows gave my daughter a sense of celebrity. Driving home from both Philadelphia and Princess’s college, we encountered biblical downpours and highway flooding. Not a problem. Not in the Secret Service mobile, heck no! We went through those waters like a modern-day ark. We were so full of awesome.
I’ll be driving to Maine today. McIrish will have to sit in the passenger seat. I’m assigning us all Secret Service nicknames. Snacky Cat. Potatoes. Pork chop. Me, I’ll be Eagle One. Obviously. If you get to make up your own Secret Service nickname, it’s going to be Eagle One.
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