My dad had a go-cart. We used to ride it around the Kellogg’s parking lot. When I was a kid, I had lots of ear problems. So, most of these trips I spent in the car bent over the back seat with my fingers jammed in my ears.
My sister rode the go-cart, but didn’t know how to stop it. Dad tried to help her to no avail. I remember seeing the commotion. There was an awful lot of arm waving going on. Pure frustration.
Finally, my dad stood in front of her and let her ram into him. Once she’d plowed into him, he bent down and turned off the ignition. Such a good Dad.