Driving a car with two kids in the back seat always makes me think, “It’s Hammer Time.” Not because their incessant whining makes me want to stop at a bar and hammer some beers (although that is often the case), or because I would like to take a hammer to all their beeping, humming and buzzing electronic devices that compete for my attention (ditto), but because we can’t seem to drive more than forty feet down the road without M.C. Hammer’s classic 80’s anthem popping into my head. Although the version that I hear goes “Nunh-nunh-nunh-nunh, nunh, nunh–Don’t Touch Me.”
I used to think that it was because we had a small car, even though when we had a small car we also had correspondingly small children. Then we got a car wide enough to have a pull down armrest (or, as I like to think of it, “no man’s land”) in the back seat, and if anything the fighting got worse. (We also tried having them in two completely different rows once when we were on vacation and rented a minivan, with even less success.) I’m beginning to think that the only way the design of the car would make a difference in the “Don’t Touch Me” department would be if we had one that was designed by the Jetsons, with modular pods angled out from the body of the car like eye stalks on a bug.
Even then I have no doubt that they would eventually be able to figure out some way to hold their breath, zip through the void of space, pop up in the other child’s pod, touch them, and then scoot back to their own pod–all before I realized what happened. I know this because even in the confines of a regular automobile I have decided that you would need stop-motion photography to be able to determine who was touching whom.
This is because the “Don’t Touch Me” game is one of the most complicated games that humans have ever invented. Chess? Forget about it: nobody plans their moves farther out than a “Don’t Touch Me” player.
For example, look at the moves of a typical drive/game (in the tradition of chess and extreme sporting, all moves will be referred to by their IADTM–International Association of ‘Don’t Touch Me’–sanctioned names).
The Pawn’s Revenge. Player one places her elbow on armrest; player two responds by seeming to move away, while simultaneously inching his foot over towards player one; player one, thinking player two is neglecting to protect his territory, slides her elbow over even further so that it is now hanging off of player two’s side; at this point player two kicks player one with the back of his heel while at the same time angling his ribs into player one’s elbow. In the ensuing commotion player one is caught with an angry look on her face, while player two quickly affects the posture of someone who has been pierced through the side with a lance. Point: player two.
The Queen’s Denial. Player one starts the game by seemingly refusing to play; instead, she leans as far back as possible, up against the door, seemingly entranced by the new Twilight podcast on her ipod. Player two then does everything in his power to engage her: he leans on the armrest, lies across the armrest, rubs his buttocks on the armrest (this drawing a strong rebuke from the referee in the front seat). Eventually, player two gives up and turns away–at this point player one reaches across the divide, viciously pinches him, and then returns to her previous position. Player two is then rebuked again by the referee for causing a ruckus by screaming. Point: player one.
So far, the score is one all–except of course for the driver. Their score is zero–just like always.