Run away cart

I am pulling into Target and luck be with me I have a premo spot at the front of the store but as I am pulling in I notice that there is a cart in the front of the stall. If I pull all the way in, I should be okay. Plan is to pull in until I barely tap the cart. All is going well as I barely tap it. But then I notice that the carts front end is now slow swing out. Surely there is not enough slope for that thing to start rolling down hill. Oh there is slope and it is starting to pick up speed. Like in a horror film where the victim realizes he must get out of the car fast or be eaten, I throw it into park and frantically fumble with the seat belt that seems to be stuck. Cart is now 4 stalls away from broad siding some Cadillac. Finally I am out and racing wait no hobbling because of the slightly sprained ankle. Fighting through the pain I over take the cart stopping it short 5' from impact. I sort of expected a cheer or clapping from the spectators but most likely they were thinking WTF why was that old fat man in a polo fleece jacket racing across the parking lot for.
Sigh

Game of Chinese fire drill.

My wife and I am sure all wives have their red button. With mine it’s calling her by her mothers name and a helpful critique comment. If pushed, my life is hell for the next few hours. So normally she will not drive the car with me in it since some where down the line I will push the button with helpful comments like “brake, we’re going to die” Today she was driving because the van was in the shop and the backup was a clutch. I can’t drive a clutch due to my sprained ankle. We get to the 4 way stop and I am carefully monitoring who should go next, 3 cars then us. Apparently my wife thought no, screw those red necks in the pickup trucks, I am going. I pushed the button with “your not next” She slammed on the brakes and threw in the emergency brake. Her comment was “I am not driving” I thought well this can’t be good especially with 20 cars behind us, 5 o’clock traffic. She proceeds to get out of the car and comes around to my side. The thought of an angry 5'o clock traffic mob motivated me to get out with my sprained ankle. With the athleticism of a running back that has just pulled his Achilles tendon in full stride, I hop around the front of the car propping myself on the hood as I go. I throw myself butt first into the driver's seat but like normal my wife has left the seat 6" from the steering wheel. I am knocked back out onto my sprained ankle. I collapsed like sack of potatoes. From the ground I move the seat back and pull myself in. As I am driving off I was amazed that nobody honked at me but then again they were probably wondering if there was a part II to the show.
Sigh