Kirby: The school chauffeur teaches a lesson

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"There was mescaline in high school."

I didn’t remember the traffic being so bad at "pioneer" schools. When did kids start getting chauffeured? In 15 minutes, we had traveled a block.

In other cars, moms in zombie trances talked on cell phones, drank coffee, applied makeup and held small dogs. The vehicles started to resemble coffins, or a long line of desks for the overly compliant.

"Papa, if you didn’t like school, what did you learn?" Hallie asked.

"You really want to know?"

When she nodded, I jacked the truck into four-wheel drive, cut the line, drove over the curb, across the lawn, the wrong way through the parking lot, around the back of the school and up to a side door.

"Have a good day," I said. "I love you."

"That was SO cool," Hallie said. "I wish I went to olden-days school."

Robert Kirby can be reached at rkirby@sltrib.com or facebook.com/stillnotpatbagley.

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