Morning Drive The Next Day

and the day after that, and the day after that, and so on and so on...

I don't know what it is about being behind the wheel of a vehicle that makes my husband transmogrify (I like that word!) into someone I don't know or love. As I said in Morning Drive, we work together which brings us to carpool together - which I love. Mostly.

My husband, for those who have not had the pleasure, is a kind, generous, and loving family man. He would not hurt anyone (Making you mow the lawn does not count, kids).

That is until you put him behind the wheel of a vehicle and send him on his way to...wherever.

Oh, or in front of a tv playing sports. Any sports. Pee Wee Bowling in Uzbekistan will rile him up and send him into emotional fits resembling PMS where he alternates between yelling at the refs/umps/officials/team/announcers/stadium vendors/mascot/small children on the screen and then long moments of complete and utter silence. Yes, he's even cried a time or two. The children and I are not quite sure whether to huddle in the closet with a shotgun, not that we own one, or call for an intervention.

And in actuality it's not the oft heard of road rage. It's more like, gosh, how do I explain it....You know the song Jesus Take the Wheel? I would say, it's more like Satan Has the Wheel.

Satan has the wheel,
He took it from J's hands.
Cause no one can drive right you know.
I'm praying Lord,
Don't let me pee my pants,
Move people from this road we're on.
Satan has the wheel.
O, take it, take it from him.

Mmmm, maybe that is a little harsh. But One of Satan's Lesser Minions Has the Wheel just doesn't flow the same.

I've tried to convince him it's not his road and that he shouldn't take personal offense to others actually driving on it or God forbid, driving on it in front of him. Gasp! May the Lord have mercy on their souls. And just who is the fool who drives 37 mph in the 35 mph zone anyway? What is wrong with him?!?! Does he NOT know he could go at least 40 and get away with it? Sigh, folks, this is the burden that is mine daily to bear.

I have even played music, you know it is supposed to soothe the savage beast. But apparently satan does not like morning radio. I've tried coffee, breakfast and the occasional scream or two thinking since he is satan, he might like that sort of thing. I have found he does like jokes and flirting. Lots of flirting. But it only diverts him momentarily until some brave soul decides to change lanes so they can turn left of all things, do they not know the wrath they incur by doing so?

But alas, each day I arrive safe, in need of a strong sedative, but safe. The face of satan begins to fall off and soon the sweet man I love so dearly smiles back at me as we walk in the door. I begin to relax, glad for the return of my beloved. If only until the next day.

Sing it Carrie!