Ohh, Mean Sweaver, I Believed You Could Get Me Home All Right

I'd just closed my eyes a tad
Climbed into the Mean Sweaver's A-Cad
Driver don't amp up my worries of this ride
Help me get back to the place where I reside

Ohh, Mean Sweaver, 
I believed you could get me home all right
Ohh, Mean Sweaver
How could you miss that obstacle in plain sight

Saturday, Hick drove us to the casino, and Hick drove us back. No ride with Hick is uneventful. First of all, about halfway there, Hick took the exit near his old workplace, to get us a free car wash. A-Cad was looking almost as scruffy as T-Hoe after that trip Monday with Sis and the Ex-Mayor. Almost, but not quite, since T-Hoe's black finish shows dried mud way worse than A-Cad's crimson red color.

The dealer where we purchased A-Cad threw in FREE CAR WASHES FOR LIFE. For the life of A-Cad, that is. Hick used to take it by sometimes when he was still working. Otherwise, we're not driving 30 miles for a car wash, unless it's on the way to or from somewhere else.

Barreling up the interstate at 67 mph (he sets the cruise two miles over the speed limit), Hick swiveled his head around to look at the dealer as we passed. "Yeah. They're open." He went down the exit ramp, which had two left turn lanes at the light. Apparently, Hick was in the wrong one, because all at once, we were waiting at the next light to get back on the highway from whence we'd come.

"Well, crap. I didn't want to get in this lane." Said Hick, who only worked at that place 23 years, using this interchange to exit and enter the highway.

"There's no getting out of it. You'll just have to go south and turn around next chance."

"Nah. I'll get it."

"That is a CONCRETE BARRIER!"

"I'll get around it here in a minute. There's nothing behind me." And with that, Hick veered right, just missing a concrete wall separating the highway-bound lanes from the outer-road-bound lanes.

We made it to the auto dealer, and wove around rows of parked cars, to the car wash in back. Which had the door closed, a black and white striped arm barricading that door, and a sign saying the car wash was closed. Uh huh. FREE CAR WASHES FOR LIFE, if you bring it on a weekday between 9:00 and 5:00, I suppose. Hick got us back to the highway without incident, and we continued to the casino.

On the way home, right in front of that very auto dealer, a white truck was backing up on the shoulder of the highway.

"LOOK OU---" I said, as Hick

DROVE OVER THE END OF A METAL LADDER that had two rungs in our lane.

THUMP...THUMP!

"What in the--?"

"I can't believe you didn't see that! You just ran over a metal ladder! When you stop for gas, you'd better check the tires."

"Nah. If I'd split a tire, it would already be flat."

"Whatever. I can't believe you didn't see it!"

"I was watching that truck back up. I had a car behind me. I couldn't get over anyway. I was looking to make sure he didn't veer onto the road."

"Well, you could have SLOWED DOWN! That might have helped if the truck DID veer into the road, wouldn't you think? What if that ladder popped up and slammed into my window and KILLED ME?"

"Then that guy wouldn't have been backing up. He'd have taken off so nobody could prove it was his ladder."

Not exactly the answer I was expecting to my rhetorical question.

Let the record show that Hick claims there was no damage to A-Cad, after making a circuit around the body while pumping gas.

Thank you, General Motors, for making a car that stands up to metal ladders at 67 mph.