I CAN have my cake, and eat it too. But it's not all it's cracked up to be.

I finished making the cake yesterday, it ended up being 3 layers (after destroying one of my homemeade cake halves transferring it out of the pan, I discovered it was actually still pretty delicious, even with the baking mishaps) and had a really ooey gooey frosting that was reminiscent of fluff. I put on a few finishing touches, and stuck the candles in early. They were trick "sparkler" candles and were long enough to poke all the way down. I figured it would add stability, so I put them all in. ("What do you mean you're not 18, Josh?) After getting everyone in the car, I put the cake on the passenger side and proceeded to back out of the driveway to pick up James. Halfway down our road, I realized just how difficult this cake would be to transport. I had put it on my glass cake pedestal, which probably wasn't the best idea. I gave up early trying to find a box to put it in, and that probably wasn't wise either. I had to hold onto the rim to keep it from tipping when I stopped my car. This was difficult when I was slowing to a stop, even going 25 mph, and haunting visions of coming off the exit ramp from 81 began to fill my mind. I ended up picking the cake up at my next available opportunity, and held where the pedestal meets the cake plate for the rest of the ride. Everything was going alright until the heat caught up with the clouds. White avalanches started to gather up at the edges. I shrieked in terror, and in a flurry grabbed them with my driving hand and let my leg handle the wheel. I didn't have any good option to deposit these snowdrifts, so I shoved a handful in my mouth and went for the wheel again. When I was merging onto 81, a falling chunk of cake made my blood run cold. I turned the wheel back over to my left leg and shoved that piece in too. About this time a group of 30 or so motorcyclists got on the highway, just before I needed to get in their lane to exit. There was no way I could get out of signaling this time, so my frosting-laden steering wheel got a matching accessory. Once I did get over, and motorcyclists started appearing on my left side, a series of people started looking in at me. They must have signaled to each other to come check out the driver of the red car. I can't imagine what I must have looked like, covered in frosting from chin to forehead, with a partial cake balancing precariously above my lap. My white-tinged hand was all but plastered to the wheel. At one point I was actually scooping up a cloud puddle that was on its way to my leg, and halfway to shoving it desperately into my mouth, when a couple on a motorcycle pulled up next to my window and gave me a laughing thumbs up. As I pulled off on the exit ramp, I started bawling. James said it was hard to contain his laughter as I pulled into the driveway at church, crying and frowning with a cake face. I burst out of the car. "Things did not go well. It's a good cake, but I don't think I'll be eating any more." A few moments later I found myself staring at the cake. "Do we have to take it to the party? Can't I just leave it here?"
On the way to Cortland, the long candles started to cause something of a continental divide. The cake was on the verge of splitting down the middle, but fortunately it survived the trip. Thankfully, my nephew is the very easy going type. I don't think his opinion of cake will change anytime soon, and I'm ok with that. I think this experience may have even changed mine.