Something resembling a memory of a hill

On Saturday afternoon, I was driving the kids to Matt's sister Julie's house. We were driving on Belmont Avenue. It was flat. I mean, really flat. Not that I was thinking about this, mind you, it's not something you think about after the first couple of weeks.

All of a sudden, from the backseat I heard a boisterous, "WHHHEEEEEE...!" from Lyle. As if he had just come over the highest drop on the roller coaster. I realized we'd gone over just the slightest hint of a rise in the road. Not as dramatic as the nice little bump you get from a pothole. Just a hint of a rise, I tell you.

And it occurred to me that Lyle was imitating what I used to do (only when the kids were in the car - at least most of the time) each time I drove over a huge, stomach-dropping hill in San Francisco.

"A Chicago hill," Baxter droned in his best sarcastic child voice.