I grew up in Detroit. In 1973, when I was 4, we were leaving Eastland Mall to head home. My mom opened the door of our 1972 avocado green Pontiac Bonneville land yacht and I climbed into the back seat, which was white tuck and roll upholstery. I closed the door myself, which likely weighed 100 pounds, but it did not latch. As we exited the parking lot I fell asleep leaning against the door. As we began to merge onto I-94, the door opened and I fell into the right lane. The car was traveling about 45+ MPH by that time. I tumbled along the pavement as cars screeched to a halt. As I had been asleep and wearing winter clothing, all I received was road rash on my hands and face and a concussion. My parents stopped the car and - wait for it - waited for me to run back and jump in. No coming to get me. No grabbing me and holding me in their arms. Just fussing at me when I got in for not closing the door and telling me they warned me about leaning against the door. I am 56 now and still remember the whole incident like it was yesterday. We only went to the hospital when I began violently puking in the middle of the night. I guess I learned my lesson.

Tomorrow’s story is what happened to me when I left a box of 64 Crayola Crayons on the “shelf” of the rear windshield for 2 days during the summer.