Highways Are for Farting, Back Roads Are for Drinking

Don't think you're getting off easy after Tuesday's tale of our return trip from the casino. There's more to the story.

It takes us 60 minutes of highway driving, and 30 more on winding blacktop roads, to get home. On the way down there, I take a book. I can't read it on the winding part, because Hick tosses me to and fro while driving at maximum speed on the blacktop. But once we hit the highway, he sets the cruise control at 73, and turns up the radio. A country station, of course, and sings along.

On the way back, I couldn't read because of darkness. Oh, I COULD have. Hick says turning on the inside light doesn't bother him, but it bothers me, so I leave it off. We all know Hick could do with one less distraction. Even though I could barely speak, what with inhaling the noxious fumes from Hick's booty-ly emissions...I did try to make conversation. That's because I didn't want Hick to fall asleep. He's not used to staying up so late. We didn't leave the parking lot until 11:15.

Once we made the turn-off onto the winding two-lane blacktop, I got a death grip on the OH BLEEP handle that's above the passenger side door. That's necessary for riding with Hick on two-lane winding blacktop after midnight. At first, I thought Hick was being extra-conservative with his speed. But then we started hitting the wake-up bumps on the non-shoulder. This one didn't have any for the center line. It barely had a center line. So I had to stay extra-alert to alert Hick to when he was driving down the middle.

"You're DRIVING DOWN THE MIDDLE!"

"I know that, Val."

"Well. Don't you think maybe you SHOULDN'T?"

"It's fine. Why don't you just ride?"

"Because we're GOING DOWN THE MIDDLE!"

Part of the reason for that might have been that Hick seemed to be driving with one hand. He was up to something with his left hand. I couldn't really see it in the glow from the dashboard. He wasn't sticking it in his ear to dig out wax, because he did that with his right hand. This was furtive. Like he was reaching down in the door pocket.

"WHAT are you doing? Can you at least drive with BOTH hands while we're on this road?"

"I'm opening a bottle of water, Val."

"Right NOW? Couldn't you have done that while you were on the nice straight highway?"

"I wasn't thirsty then."

You know that you can't open a water bottle with one hand, right? At least not initially. It takes TWO hands. So Hick was actually driving with only the side of his right hand, while loosening the cap with his fingers, and holding the bottle with his left hand. I volunteered to open the bottle for him, but Hick declined. Can you believe it?

Oh, but once the water bottle was open...you know what THAT means, right?  Hick TILTED HIS HEAD BACK TO SWIG FROM THE BOTTLE! Which meant that we might be turning one way in a curve as he started swigging, but suddenly needed to be turning the other way when he stopped swigging. And let's not even talk about oncoming traffic.

Okay, let's DO.

"I can't believe all the traffic on this road after midnight!"

"We have only passed four cars."

"But at this time of night? WHOA! That one was in the middle!"

"He was probably taking a drink of water."

"Yeah. Probably."

When I get my proposed handbasket factory up and running, and Hick's Shackytown and Amusement Park in business...I think adrenaline junkies would pay a pretty penny to go on one of Hick's Midnight Rides.