Last week my husband was sick. He stayed home from work for four days. When he is sick he does three things: moans; huddles on the couch wearing his Mr. Rogers sweater which he refuses to admit is two sizes too small; and he shops….on eBay. Day one he was too sick to even open the computer, by day two he had bought a bubble machine. The kind DJ’s use. An expensive DJ quality bubble machine. For all of our outdoor parties, he says. Oh yes, we are such party animals! On day three he asked me to Mapquest an address in Delaware. 230 miles one way, 4 hours and 22 minutes. By day four he had bought a truck….yup…in Delaware. 230 miles and 4 hours and 22 minutes away. I took off work to take him to Delaware to pick up his new toy truck. Now before you go thinking what an amazing, patient, understand wife I am (which I am, of course) let me explain. I love having something to hold over his head. I love having something to say like, ‘oh sure but I drove all the way to Delaware for you’ - you get the picture! That and the fact that my birthday and Christmas are just around the corner. I had not thoroughly thought through the prospect of spending four and a half hours trying to make conversation with a man that will only hear half of it and/or go into his repetitive mode where every 50 miles or so he will repeat a story I already heard and wasn’t that interested in the first time around. But Paypal already issued a deposit and so we were off by 8am.
Map and directions in hand we got in the car. My seat was moved. It takes me 53 moves to get the seat so that I can reach both the gas and brake pedals at the same time, while not having the steering wheel embedded in my stomach. I asked him if he used my car…yes…to get gas….which still has only about a quarter of a tank because he only put in enough to get us to Jersey where the gas is cheaper. (The man just bought an industrial bubble machine and he’s trying to save pennies on gas….did I miss something??) We make it to Jersey without killing each other or stopping for gas. The day was gloriously sunny and clear, and the air smelled like cinnamon, something Mr. Wonderful commented on pretty much every 20 miles. Uh oh, we were slipping into repeat mode. As we drove through Jersey and into Delaware the weather started to change. As did the scenery. Earlier, beautiful brown and orange leaves adorned the trees on either side of the parkways. If I hadn’t been married for 36 years it would have been down right romantic. The trees here were green…the leaves hadn’t turned yet as if no one bothered to tell them it was Fall. The sky had darkened. At least I wouldn’t have to hear what a clear sunny day it was anymore. The roads got smaller. Four lane highways because 3 lane routes which eventually became 2 land roads which were surrounded by flat non descript land. Farms surrounded us, the air smelled like manure. My shoulders ached from being crammed into the mal-adjusted seat for over 3 hours. My left leg throbbed and I drove envisioning a clot traveling from my poor leg into my brain or lung or…”Wanna stop and get pumpkins?” he interrupted my crisis. “Halloween is over,“ I grumbled. “Wanna stop and get corn?” No. “Wanna stop and get coffee?” Now your talkin’! We pulled into a rest stop which looked like every horror movie ever made could have been filmed there. I could hear the chainsaws in the background and worried what sedative they would put in the coffee to make us cooperate. The only saving grace was that it machine vended coffee, so while it tasted hideous it most likely wasn’t tainted. I had to pee but opted to live instead and we headed back to the car. We should have got coffee back in Jersey at the gas station where we saved 8 cents a gallon. (20 gals x .08 = $1.60 savings whoo hoo)
The roads narrowed even more and we eventually were on a one lane road which actually was a two way….and the locals thought it was hysterical to terrorize the black truck with the NY plate. We passed the car lot, and I use the term loosely, three times since we thought it would have been more than a trailer….each time u-turning in someone’s corn field. Bob, Bill, Bubba…whatever, came out hand extended and greeted us with more gusto than really necessary. In a southern twang that just didn’t go with the territory he asked how our ride from the ‘north’ was. No comment. I cleaned out my car while my husband went inside to do some paperwork. I turned to look for a garbage pail and ended up staring back at a snarling, drooling dog. I tried as gingerly as my fat ass would allow, to get back in the car before Cujo came running. He was barking and shaking his head and as I estimated the distance between me and the trailer, and how fast I could get there…the trailer door opened and Billy Bob yelled out. “Rudy…Rooooody… god dammit! c’mere ya mangy mutt” and with that Cujo’s ears went limp, his bark silenced and he followed his master into the trailer…where I hoped he was having my husband for lunch. I still had to pee but opted to live instead. A quick test drive later, we were back in the car…umm cars…for the long drive home. With him following me (since I had the map) the car was delightfully quiet. I put on my Peter Lemongello CD, sang along to his love ballads and pretended it was 1976 again. I checked my rear view mirror every so often to make sure Cujo’s lunch was still there and he was except that he drove like an old Jew (apologies to my Jewish friends). If the speed limit said 55 he did 45, 65 - 55, and god forbid we were in a work area where the speed limit was 30...he all but stopped. (The man has an unreasonable fear of speeding tickets. Must be something from his youth.) I found a great radio station that broadcast out of Philly and I sang along to Beatle songs I hadn’t heard in years. The time and miles were passing. Quick check in my rear view mirror and Mr. Wonderful goes rogue. I called his cell. No answer, can’t hear it…deafness will do that… told him to put it on vibrate! I changed lanes and found him behind a speeding 18 wheel semi that seemed determined to kill someone or at least himself. I made sure he saw me and pulled into an Arby’s. I was hungry and had to pee desperately and now death defying or not, I was gonna find a bathroom. Arby’s provided everything I needed for the rest of the trip home, food, coffee and a clean bathroom. My husband stole sugar (is that a senior thing?) and we left for a thankfully uneventful ride home. Ten hours after we left for Delaware we arrived home with a truck that looks exactly like the one he already has. All I have to say is Happy Birthday to me and it’s gonna be one hell of Christmas!
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