Walking up the stairs on my way into the office this morning, there was a woman next to me on the escalator. We’ll call her “Bootielicious”. She was posing for the security guards on her way up to the bridge level, tight jeans and heels, skimpy white shirt with a floral pattern…and jingling her keys.

Ok, you have a car. Congratulations.

I remember doing the same thing at 14 when Jenny and I would steal my brothers car and go joy riding. We’re lucky we didn’t kill anyone…especially considering I didn’t even get my permit until I was 18.

Kev used to stay out all night and sleep all day. When he first realized I was taking the car, he started sleeping with the keys under his pillow. Didn’t help. He, like me, could sleep through damn near anything. With a gentle roll, he was on his side and the keys were mine. I remember the pride I had, the want to announce my independence publicly…and I did so by jingling those stupid keys. It’s something I still observe teenagers doing and it brings me back…but it’s not too often I catch a grown adult doing it.

My fondest memories of Kev and that old beast (a light blue 4 door Pontiac Bonneville Brougham with complementary velour upholstery and a phat 8-track deck) were those that stemmed from him trying to cheer me up.

There was the time we went into the ditch off Bob’s driveway because the boys were sticking quarters in their nostrils trying to make me laugh…the time Kev picked me up from the library at Diamond Center and rear ended a pickup on the black ice — our bumpers interlocking and watching as true Alaskan men tried to detach the vehicles or the many times he’d drive along with attitude blaring Metallica as served up by KWHL — which in itself was damn funny.

The best of all was driving up (or down?) Abbott Road and I was upset about something - who knows what, I was always upset - and Kev was driving with his feet out the window. This was easily accomplished because the boat had been rigged with handicap controls, in the event my double amputee mother was ever inclined to get behind the wheel.

Here he is, feet out the window, Ray Bans on, styling and profiling when Robert Palmer / Power Station come on the radio with “Simply Irresistible”. There’s a point in the song around the chorus where there’s a pause and some drums or a bass for effect give a few beats — I think the lyrics near it resemble “mee meep yeah!” (I could be imagining that). Kevin honks. The bullhorn on that monster was magnificent. Now it wasn’t one honk, but a series…in time with the music and complementing it perfectly.

It was one of the funniest things I’d ever seen, my bad-ass older brother - tough as nails and never mushy - going to such extremes to make me smile. I’m not sure I’ve ever laughed that hard and even with just the memory I can’t help but giggle until my eyes water.