Zip ties to the rescue (again)

I broke my van. I didn't break it in the traditional smoke-and-flames kind of way. It still runs just fine, in fact. We're just missing a window. A big window.

I have a minivan, the kind with the big door that opens on the side. That door has a big window on it. Well, it used to have a big window on it. I was driving out to my mom's house last week with my kids, my sister, and my neice in tow. I stopped to get my mom's mail, and my son and neice jumped out of the car and started to run toward the house.

My mom lives in the middle of nowhere, so her mailbox is a hike from her house. I sorted the mail and turned onto her road. My son had stopped running, obviously wanting me to stop and pick him up. He stuck his thumb out like a serial-killing hitchhiker, and I slowed to a stop.

I have a sick, sick sense of humor, and so does my sister. Neither of us would have passed up the opportunity to carry out this classic prank. I waited for my son to approach the sliding door of the van. The instant his fingers reached out for the door handle, I drove forward.

We laughed. We laughed much harder than this lame prank actually warranted. He caught up with us and yelled through the open front window, "What was that for? Geez, Mom." He reached for the door again. I shot forward. Hahahahahahahahaha.

I was going to take mercy on him and let him in the next time, but right as he reached for the door handle, my sister looked at me and yelled, "GO!" Instinct made me do it. Unfortunately, my timing was slightly off. He had the whole door handle in his grasp when I hit the gas. I pulled away, and the door slid open. *thwack!* It slid so hard it hit the side of the van, and then... *crack* *thump*

"What the hell was that?" I was sure I had just run over my son, so I slammed on the brakes. The door slid shut with a bang. I glanced back over my right shoulder to locate my son. He was standing about ten feet behind the van, mouth agape, staring at the ground. It took a few seconds for me to register that something was amiss.

I slowly backed up, and it wasn't until my son leaned through the area where the window should have been that I realized what it was that didn't seem quite right. My entire window fell off. He looked at me with a stunned expression on his face, and said the only thing I would expect of one of my children. "That was not my fault."

I got out of the van, and walked around it to look at the road. Lying peacefully in the middle of the dusty dirt road was my window. How it didn't break into pieces is beyond me. I went from shock to anger in a heartbeat. I leveled my son with a glare. "You are SO grounded."

"Mom! It wasn't my fault! It fell off the door when you pulled away!"

"The door wouldn't have opened if you hadn't grabbed the handle!"

"I would have just gotten in the car if you'd have stopped!"

"Well, you would have already been in the car if you hadn't gotten out!"

He had nothing else. Somehow, I didn't really feel better for winning that one. "Just pick it up and get in the car."

We went on to my mom's house to find my neice standing on the front porch laughing hysterically. She replayed the entire thing for my mom, who laughed, too. I found no humor in it until I called my husband to tell him what I had done. As soon as he answered the phone, I started giggling. It wasn't that the broken window was funny, but I felt ridiculous trying to explain to my husband how it got that way. I couldn't even tell the story without laughing.

He didn't think it was funny. He will laugh hard enough to wake the dead over a fart, but the window falling off the van wasn't funny? Alright, maybe it wasn't really that humorous, but sometimes all you can do is laugh.

It turns out that it fell off because the little piece that opens up so you can vent the window broke off when the door slammed against the side of the van. Apparently, that piece also holds the window in place. We had to order it from the dealership, and haven't gotten it yet. It's been raining here every day, so I begged my husband to do something with it. He got out his bundle of zip-ties and reattached my window. Don't ask me how a zip tie can hold a window on, because I'm not sure I know, but it's working until the part comes in.

I'm sure if an automobile were capable of emotion, mine would hate me. It would pull a "Christine" on me and lock me inside and eat me. The sad part is, I probably deserve it.