A/N: Lightening things up, just a bit. As a mom of a 13 year old, this topic is often on my mind.
Once again, many thanks to my beta-readers, Melody Winters, Polaris'05, Diva Danielle and DuckiePray. Check out their amazing fics as well!
EDIT: How could I have forgotten?! A big shout-out goes to my friend Andrea, who came up with Donny's line! YAY DREA!
Drabbles of Leo
Chapter 7 Drive: Leonardo
For a turtle who's never driven before, Don didn't do too badly. We only bounced off a few cars parked on the sides of the street as we careened away from the hoard of Purple Dragons who wanted to turn our shells into soup bowls.
Michelangelo, on the other hand, was a complete disaster the first time he drove the armored truck Don dubbed the Battleshell. Donatello vowed never to let him behind the wheel of another vehicle. I'm still not quite sure how the parking meter got crammed quite that far up under the front left fender. I asked Don about it. He just shook his head, with that grim look he gets sometimes, and flipped his welding mask back down.
It was three weeks before Raph got his first driving lesson. He did slightly better than Michelangelo, but only because any object foolish enough to get in his way was obliterated upon impact. Raphael only has one speed: fast forward. Don spent another month pounding out dents and muttering over broken axles and tie rods. At least Raph got interested in mechanics and offered to help with the repairs.
I didn't think Donny would ever let another Turtle behind the wheel of his precious van, so I was more than a little shocked when Don walked up to me one evening and dropped the keys in my palm. "Let's go," was all he said.
"But Don, I…"
He turned to glare at me. "Sensei says we all have to learn to drive. In case we need to use the Battleshell to make a quick getaway sometime."
I nodded in understanding. Master Splinter had insisted we all learn to use one anothers' weapons as well, though Michelangelo with katanas is a sight I hope I never see again. Ever.
Still, considering my track record with kitchen appliances, I understood Don's tension as we eased out of the warehouse. He was gripping the dashboard so hard I was certain his fingers would be permanently embedded. I took it nice and slow, easing down the alley and pausing to look both ways before driving smoothly out into the street. Donny relaxed by the time we reached the corner of Sixth and Main. When we rounded the corner of Eastman, heading for Laird, he was actually smiling… until I tried to back the truck into the warehouse and annihilated the steel garage door. Oops.
Once the crashing, crunching, squealing of metal grinding against metal stopped, I turned to Don. I expected him to look disappointed. Sad. Homicidal even. He just sat there, staring desolately out the cracked windshield.
"I knew I should have installed an emergency brake in this thing."
From here on out, I think Don should drive.
***