My sister B. A. is a Renaissance woman of crazy. Whereas some sanity-challenged people stand out in just one or two directions -- odd mood swings, inappropriate outbursts, disregard for the usual rules of personal grooming or dress -- B. A. excels at them all. She'll brag that her ratty gray hair is a sign of ageless feminity and wisdom, then complain that that she can't find a date with teeth. She'll viciously berate any waiter who dares bring her a dish containing cilantro.

And, perhaps more seriously, she's about eight seconds away from being killed in a car crash.

B. A. planned this road trip, and without realizing the extent of her condition I didn't blanch when she said she wanted to drive. Within seconds of getting into the car, though, I realized that sitting there quietly would be harder than getting my Pekinese to play miniature golf.

"I can multitask while I'm driving," B. A. proudly chirped as our van careened straight toward a stop sign. "I can do more than just one thing at once," she announced as she dabbed on mascara and swerved into the path of an oncoming school bus. "I've been driving like this for years and never hit anything," she assured me as she doublechecked our route on a road map and clipped a route marker at the side of the road.

I tried to argue to the contrary but she cut me off before I got two words out. "I was carpooling with a Chinese lady once, and she kept implying that I was a bad driver. She kept asking me: 'Don't you think you're driving too fast?' 'Don't you think you should be paying more attention?' It was ridiculous, and insulting, and one day I just couldn't take it any more. I screamed at her, 'Here's a question: why are Asian people such lousy drivers?'" And then she cackled at her own outrageousness.

While she was telling this story, though, she was so fixated on my reaction that she didn't notice the road sign announcing that our speed limit was decreasing from forty miles per hour to fifteen, and wasn't prepared for the upcoming curve. She had time for exactly one "Oh, shit!" before we sailed over the gravel shoulder and off our little one-lane road.

We came to a halt almost immediately, kicking up a tornado of dirt. We sat there and watched the dust whip around the car before gradually settling and revealing our new location: in a field blossoming with some verdant summer crop, somewhere in southeast Vermont.

I looked at B. A. She looked at me. "So," I replied, "what did the Chinese lady say?"