Here Benjamin enjoys an almost in-utero pose enabled by his car seat. When his mother, Hilary, was a little kid her car seat was a simple plastic shell with a fluffy sheepskin liner. It was held in the car with the standard lap belt. Benjamin’s ride is done in this fancy multi-part super Consumer Reports top-rated device that provides all the protection you can imagine. One thing it doesn’t do — if there’s a crash, it doesn’t have an explosive ejection mechanism to get Ben away from the accident scene. Nor does it have an air bag. That’ll come in the next model, I suppose. Poor Ben; he was born too soon for the latest. (Weren’t we all?)Remembering the past, I, your faithful blogger, was tossed into the back seat of our 1941 Chevrolet and told to shut up if I fell on the floor due to sudden braking. At least a couple of times when I was old enough to sit in the front seat my head met the metal dashboard when Dad applied the brakes too hard. ‘41 Chevys were cruel and harsh. Consequently, so am I.
Thus we are the product of our times.
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