Like A Record, Baby

We left Manhattan via Zip Car at about 8 a.m. on Monday morning. It was stressful driving out of the city because we had to change highways about a million times and neither of us are familiar with anything west of the West Side Highway. I was a touch worried at that point because, you know, it's never a good sign when you start a vacation by bickering with your travel mate. I mean, is it really MY fault that he prefers a map over written directions? If he wanted a damn map, he should've said so. It's not my job to read his mind. HE'S SUPPOSED TO READ MINE.

So we were pretty grumpy as we started out towards Pennsylvania, but our icy demeanor's melted fast when the guy driving the big rig in front of us decided it was a good idea to put his truck in reverse. Because driving backwards on the freeway is perfectly safe. Just picture it: Poompy and I are sitting in our little rented Toyota Matrix, waiting our turn to merge from one highway to another, when the reverse lights on the Mack truck in front of us come on and the truck starts moving backwards. Quickly. I lay on the horn because I'M ON THE FUCKING HIGHWAY SO I CAN'T BACK UP and Big Rig Asshole starts driving faster. In reverse. On the highway. And, by the way, the sound my horn makes is this pathetic little squeak. So now I'm pushing both fists into the horn and the horn is going, "ssssssqueak?" and I'm screaming "SHIIIIIIIIIIIIIT!" and the truck is still moving backwards and by now I am envisioning the rear tires coming up onto the hood of the Matrix on their way to crush our skulls. And just before the sound of crunching metal pierces the air, just as I begin to see my life flash before my eyes, I glance into my rear view mirror and realize that the guy behind me is changing lanes and there is no one behind him, so I shove the automatic-gear-shifter-thingy into reverse and GUN IT backwards, while simultaneously swerving into the far right lane. I know, right? But I managed not to kill/maim/injure anyone and no damage was done to the vehicle and I still had time to flip off the driver of the truck as he sped backwards past me.

It's hard to stay grumpy after you survive a probably-would've-been-fatal-car-crash-if-you'd-actually-crashed close call. You know? After that we were both pretty breathless and giddy. I was certain I'd lost at least five years off my life. Poompy insisted that I'd maneuvered beautifully and that I should take up stunt driving.

"Really?" I wanted to know. "I wasn't the crazy one, right? That guy was totally fucked up, right?"

"That guy was nuts. Or something was wrong with his truck. Either way. You handled that really well."

"Except for the part where I just sat there screaming."

"You're on the freeway! What else were you supposed to do?"

"Yeah. The horn on this thing SUCKS, huh? I bet he couldn't even hear me honking."

"But he saw you flip him off."

"Awesome."

And then we turned up the stereo and blasted "Road Trip Uno, Deaux, 3", a mix-CD I'd made especially for the occasion, and sang along to favorites like Dead or Alive's "You Spin Me Round" and Bangkok Five's "Straight Fell Off" and Dusty Springfield's "Son of a Preacher". We stopped at a McD's in Jersey to pee and get some greasy hash browns and we were surprised to find the place staffed entirely by little old ladies who were not impressed with my belching. But mmmm.... hash browns.
Two hours later we stopped at a McD's in Harrisburg, PA for lunch where I got to share the restroom with a young daddy and his little girl. Because there wasn't any toilet paper in the men's room, isn't that ridiculous? By the way, you know you're really broke and on a road trip when you eat at McD's twice in one day. But it was awesome. Our horsing around gave way to some new in-jokes (Damn New Yorkers!) and we spent so much time talking that we rediscovered why we're so crazy about each other. We talked and we talked and we talked and we talked and seriously, who knew I was married to such a cool, smart, funny guy? I mean, so what if he needs a map to go on a road trip? I can forgive him that flaw because he kept me laughing for over three hours. And he shares his french fries.