Chapter 300

• Riding mom to college
• If I hadn't gotten wet, things never would have gone farther than my son getting hard. But I got so very wet.
• Reggie was 18, and his aunt and I were driving him to his first semester in college. Becka's Grand Caravan was packed to the gills. We were hauling Reggie's stuff for his dorm room, plus boxes of my sister's ceramics that she was delivering to an art gallery in the same college town. Reggie's double bass violin took up both the middle seat and the folded-down front passenger seat. I couldn't feel miffed at the oversized instrument, for with it, Reggie had earned a full scholarship to pursue jazz music. But the only vacant seating was a narrow space all the way in the back.