A/N: Bad news for me, my family bunny rabbit (who was creatively named Bunny) died last night. When I say the family bunny, I mean the entire family. He was passed along to almost all of my uncles, aunts and cousins. My father was devastated! R.I.P. Bunny…
I'm having issues with my other story, it's only showing up on my page and not anywhere else… *suggestions* ?
Here's cute little piece about everyone's favorite subject, Ziva's driving!
When Ziva was around 13 she decided she'd start driving. It seemed perfectly practical to her. What typically seems like a spontaneous with Ziva is actually a carefully calculated decision. With Ari at University, we no longer had any form of transportation, asides from the bus, of course. Ziva probably considered that, but she still wanted to learn, even if there was no immediate need for it.
"This way I can teach you when you're older!" She insisted.
That never happened. Here's why.
At that point, we had a Mossad car parked in our driveway, the beamer didn't come until a couple years later. So Ziva casually grabbed the keys and walked out the door. At least she tried to; I stopped her and begged to go with her.
"Hell no." She replied. "I don't want to be responsible for your death."
"Wouldn't you feel better if you had someone with you?" I pleaded.
"Well okay. Just don't piss me off or I'm throwing you out of the car."
We got in the car, nine year old me in the passenger seat and 13 year old Ziva at the wheel. After nearly crashing into the garage and rolling into the neighbor's garden, we figured out how to put it in reverse and shakily backed out onto the street. Then Ziva hit the gas. We went over a few too many curbs, nearly killed children, cats, and elderly people, and barely escaped intersections in which Ziva had gone through a red light before she finally discovered the brake. If luck had not been on my side I would not lived past age nine with Ziva driving me around.
I am pretty sure a few of my father's colleagues pulled up beside us at one point, and they definitely knew who we were. But when he got home that night, he didn't say anything. In fact, he never said anything. He never even asked how Ziva got her license without any formal instruction.
I never got into a car she was driving willingly ever again. In the end, Ziva never taught me how to drive because she never actually learned how.