S–t My Husband Says – volume Vll

The sanity of my days is often a roller-coaster ride. Lots of ups and downs, with a straight-away thrown in there every now and then to lull me into a false sense of serenity before the next stomach turning drop. It’s been a few weeks since I’ve posted to S–t My Husband Says – and so I thought maybe we had found an exit off the whack track. Wrong – just a lull.

Driving along the North Shore, you see the occasional hitch-hiker. Young surf people from the beaches carrying their boards, looking for a ride. Which is what sparked this bizarre discussion:

John: “You know that if we picked up a hitch-hiker who turned out to be a deranged killer, you would likely not survive.”

Me: I am pretty sure normal couples don’t have conversations like this, but here goes: “Why wouldn’t I survive? I assume you believe you would remain alive?”

John: “Well, if I picked up the crazy hitch-hiker without you in the vehicle, he would be sitting in the passenger seat. When he pulled the knife or gun on me, I would speed up and crash into a tree or a cement blockade. The airbags would deploy, and provide a distraction, allowing me to escape.”

Me: “Fine, but why wouldn’t that work for me?”

John: ” If we pick up a hitch-hiker with both of us in the vehicle, he would have to sit in the backseat behind you (because the other passenger seat has been laid down to accommodate his golf clubs). When the hitch-hiker pulls his weapon, he will probably use you as the hostage – hold a knife to your neck. When I go through with my plan to crash into something – the impact could cause him to slit your throat. If he is thrown back into the seat without killing you, the airbag would hurt you. Doubtful that you would be strong enough to escape from the car.

Me: “Nice that you are so optimistic, so let’s just go with our current rule of not picking up hitch-hikers. If for some reason, we MUST pick someone up – let’s ask them if they plan to murder us before we let them in the vehicle. Just to be safe, I will voluntarily give up the passenger seat to the hitch-hiker and I will sit in the backseat to ensure my survival.”

I am becoming convinced that we won’t be pulling off this absurd conversation racetrack anytime soon – because we are the pace-car.


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