The orthopedic surgeon I work for was moving to a new office, and
his staff was helping transport many of the items.

I sat the display skeleton in the front of my car, his bony arm
across the back of my seat. I hadn't considered the drive
across town. At one traffic light, the stares of the people in
the car beside me became obvious, and I looked across and
explained, "I'm delivering him to my doctor's office."

The other driver leaned out of his window. "I hate to tell you,
lady," he said, "but I think it's too late!" rteen! Fourteen!