The Time My Son Dropped His Teddy Bear out the Window of a Moving Vehicle

Have you ever seen a child-size shoe or jacket or toy on the side of the road and wondered how the heck it got there?

I’ll tell you how: a child threw it out the damn window of their long-suffering parent’s moving vehicle.

And how do I know this, you ask? BECAUSE MY SON “ACCIDENTALLY” TOSSED HIS BELOVED TEDDY BEAR OUT THE WINDOW OF MY CAR LAST NIGHT.

It was about 6pm and we were on our way home from the mall, where we’d had a delightful time purchasing multiple pairs of those stupid pants he’s so obsessed with and riding up and down the escalator fifty times. Spirits were high (he was already wearing one of the new pants!) and we were thoroughly enjoying our journey, chatting and singing and pointing out every bus and motorcycle we passed along the way. Unfortunately, since we live in hell Los Angeles and even the quickest trip around town is invariably plagued by hideous traffic, dear Bubba got a little bored after a while and began looking for other forms of entertainment. He asked me to roll the window down (“window? Window pwease? Mine window? WIIINDOOOOOOW!!!!!!!!!“), and since it was rather warm out and we weren’t driving very fast, I happily obliged.

Not thirty seconds later came a gasp from the backseat. “Oh no!” Bubba squealed in a tone of voice I know means nothing but trouble. I glanced at him in the rear view mirror and saw him reaching towards the window and knew immediately that something had just made a tragic exit from our vehicle — but what was it? I said a little prayer that it was just a goldfish cracker or a sippy cup, but a quick look into his empty lap confirmed that it was Gokey who was no longer with us.

“OH NO!” I agreed, panic setting in, my heart pounding as my mind whirled with thoughts of the PTSD my child would soon be developing. “Don’t worry, Bud,” I told him, feigning confidence I most certainly did not have. “We’ll get him!”

Now, this is where the trouble really started. You’re probably thinking, “OK, so the bear fell out the window — pull over and pick the stupid thing up and be on your merry way!” There are a number of problems with that seemingly simple resolution, though, not least of which is the fact that my car was in motion and we were already at least a tenth of a mile away from where poor Gokey lay sadly in the street by the time I realized what had transpired. Furthermore, there were no fewer than six billion cars whizzing past on all sides and I can only imagine the calamity that would have ensued if I had simply stopped my vehicle dead in its tracks in the middle of the road and hopped out to scrape a mangled stuffed animal off the pavement. The obvious solution was to pull over at the nearest possible opportunity, but because the universe hates me and Los Angeles is the worst place in the world, there literally was nowhere to pull over. I was on a stretch of road where every available inch is used for traffic and no curbside parking is permitted (i.e. if you pull over, you will be blocking an entire lane of traffic and possibly subjecting yourself to violent retaliation from a justifiably angry commuter), and there were no parking lots or strip malls or office buildings in sight.

I am telling you, I almost had a heart attack. Here I am, moving along with the flow of traffic with NO option to stop, and meanwhile I know that somewhere behind me, my child’s most prized possession is being run over repeatedly by a relentless throng of two-ton crushing machines.

Knowing there was no hope of pulling over on the current street, I made a couple turns and finally found an office building with an open parking structure. A sign sternly warned that the lot was for employees only and that trespassers would be towed, but I had no time to concern myself with such threats. GOKEY NEEDED US. I whipped Bubba out of his seat and off we ran.

Obviously, taking photographs during this crisis was out of the question, but here’s an artist’s rendering of the catastrophic events unfolding:

Site “A” is where Gokey left the vehicle. “B” is where I was finally able to park my car so Bubba and I could begin our search and rescue operation.

Five agonizing minute later, we reached the scene of the crime. I breathed a sigh of relief when I spotted the bear, thankful that at least he hadn’t been swept away down a storm drain or torn to shreds by a snowplow (never mind that we have neither storm drains nor snow around here). I watched the poor critter get run over a few more times before I was finally able to get the attention of the driver of one of the passing cars and signal for him to stop for a moment so I could retrieve my victim, then scooped him up and returned him to his rightful owner. “GOKEY!” Bubba cheered, thankfully not noticing that his cuddly friend was a little smooshed and a lot dirty.

Crisis averted, we made our way back to the car. (It had not been towed, blessedly.) As we began our drive home, Bubba asked me again to open the window. “No, Bud,” I replied, obviously having learned my lesson. “We can’t open it because Gokey could fall out again!”

“No,” he corrected me, not skipping a beat. “Gokey jumped it,” he explained. “I hold it!”

That’s right, folks: Gokey hadn’t been tossed out the window, he had jumped of his own volition. And it was perfectly safe for me to open the window again, because this time around, Bubba would hold him so he couldn’t jump again!

We drove home with the windows closed. Fool me once, shame on you…