Tuesday, June 29, 2010
My husband is a very good driver. A very conscientious driver. He's not a Sunday drive, lollygagging old-man-in-a-hat sort of driver. But he's a good driver. A safe driver. He signals appropriately and judges gaps well. He's courteous to other drivers. One sure fire way to piss him off and bring out the asshole in him is for another driver to be a jerk. That's it.
He's a car kind of guy. He likes a clean car. I've seen him take a look under the seats of my car and bust out a full body shudder. He likes sparkly seats and a shiny interior. When my water broke and labor began with Big, he took time to put big black plastic yard bags on the seat . . . just in case the industrial strength gigantic maxi pad I was wearing happened to leak. That paints a good picture.
Few things can make my husband spin illegal u-turns, shoot a gap in traffic, hang a hard left or really put a seatbelt check on the passengers. Last weekend, catching a glimpse of this guy brought our the race car driver in MOTH. He spun a u-ie, shot a gap, exceeded the speed limit and positioned the car perfectly so the kids could see this wild thing of beauty.
I was looking through the lens of a camera and whispered, "man, this lens is too big". Imagine my shock when I peeked from behind the camera body and saw this big drink of water only about 10 feet from the car. He proceeded to walk up right next to the car, veer toward the back, look both ways & cross the street.