Well, maybe not. Robb hadn't been on a car ride that lasted longer than half an hour. For the longest time, he did not have the "sitting tolerance" for anything longer. Sure, he had to recline his seat as if he were taking a snooze, which made for slightly...odd...navigating on his part, but, hey, a milestone is a milestone.
While we were down in San Jose, we did something that I haven't done in over four months, since Robb had his accident.
We washed the car. Oh, it needed it. The car was disgracefully and depressingly dirty. We have a weird clause in our lease that says we are forbidden to wash cars in front of the apartment, although I gather that I'm the only tenant who ever read this section of their lease. I'm sure my neighbors wouldn't "rat us out" if I did wash the car at home, but for whatever reason, I hadn't made the time. Just like I haven't found a moment to drag the wheelchair out of the back of the car.
I've always found this mesmerizing. It brings out my inner child, but I swear that as a kid, the car wash tunnels were way, way longer.
We also slipped in a bit of letterboxing on the way home. Or we tried to. Half of our target spots were closed, for one reason or another. But I was delighted by the way the purple trees matched the ghastly purple paint job on the childrens' museum.