Car Hours
by John Norberg, humor columnist s

Last week my wife and I drove home from the Adirondacks. It took 13 hours.

We took many long drives when we were young with children onboard. There was lots of complaining, but my wife quieted me down and we had lots of fun.

We're older now and it's just the two of us. I looked forward to a relaxing trip.

Hour one: I'm hungry and ask my wife for a snack.

Wife: "We have celery, carrots, apples, oranges, bananas. What would you like?"

Me: "M&Ms, potato chips and Snickers bars."

We spend the next hour discussing the meaning of "snacks."

Hour three: I'm bored and suggest we play a game.

Wife: "How about ?My Mother Went to The Grocery Store.'"

Me: "I thought it was ?My Father Owns a Grocery Store.'"

Wife: "No, it's mother went."

Me: "Father owned."

Wife: "Mother went."

This goes on for an hour, which ends the boredom.

Hour five: My wife puts on a winter coat.

Wife: "Can we turn down the air conditioner long enough for my teeth to stop chattering."

Me: "I'm hot!"

Wife: My water bottle is frozen."

Me: "My Snickers bars are melting."

We spend the two hours moving the air conditioner up and down.

Hour seven: Traffic is stopped in construction. I walk to a semi behind me and ask the driver if he can see how far the stalled traffic reaches.

"California," he says.

I'm not sure if he's joking.

Hour nine: My wife is reading and asks me to lower the volume on my audio book.

Me: "What?"


Me: "Why are you shouting?"

I lower the volume. Ten minutes later I raise it again.

Hour ten: My wife wakes from a nap and asks where we are.

Me: "Ohio, Indiana or Georgia. The GPS isn't working."

Wife: "Have you looked at a roadmap?"

Me: "In this day and age? That's ridiculous!"

Wife: "And being unsure if you're in Ohio, Indiana or Georgia is not ridiculous?"

Me: "Find a number for GPS tech support. I just saw a sign for Atlanta."

Hour thirteen: We pull into our garage. My wife gets out. I remain in my seat. She asks if I'm coming.

Me: "I'll be right with you."

It was actually five days before I could straighten my legs.

Either road trips are getting old, or I am.

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