Semi Road Rage

Semi Road Rage

This is what they heard: Ka-pow! Flop, flop, flop... flop… flop…floppitty- flop- flop.

This is what she said: “Oh, no! Not another flat tire! “

This is what he said: “Alice, what do you mean another flat? We haven’t had one since 1987. It’s not like we have one every few days, for crap’s sake.”

“George,” she huffed, “you don’t have to get nasty!”

“Who’s nasty? Who’s nasty! I am not nasty. You’re nasty.”

“Okay! Okay! I’m nasty. Stop shouting and get the hell out and fix the damn tire.”

“It’s raining.”

“So?”

“I’ll get wet.”

“So?”

“You don’t care do you?”

“No!”

“Okay, Lover. Okay. I get out in the rain and fix the tire, catch pneumonia, die and leave you a semi-rich widow. Is that what you want?"

“George, I just want to get to Augusta sometime today. I don’t want to spend the rest of my life parked beside the Maine Turnpike. Especially if I have to spend it with you.”

“Oh my! You are nasty…nastier by the stinking minute. If that’s possible.”

“George! Fix the tire.”

“I’ve never fixed a tire.”

“Oh. Now after 20 years I find I married a handy man. Call Triple-A.”

“I can’t. We’re in a dead zone. No cell service. “

“How do you know?"

“While you were raving, I tried. As usual, you weren’t paying any attention to me.

“So what do we do? Pray?”

“Don’t get smart. Get out the Owner’s Manual. It will tell me what to do.”

“George. It’s not here. “

“Alice, why do people steal the Owner’s Manual out of rental cars?”

“I really don’t care why. So what do we do?”

“I’m thinking.”

“George, you’re not good at that either. You could at least try to fix it.”

“Alice, I will. I’ll take care of everything.”

“George! George! Come back here. Where the hell are you going?

“To Augusta.”

“You can’t leave me here in the wilderness.”

“I won’t leave you here in the wilderness. We, Alice. We are going to Augusta.

“I’m going to hitch us a ride. I’ll drop you at The Holiday Inn, call for road service, and come back with them for the car. Come stand out here with me. You’re a lot prettier.”

Twenty minutes later a Mainer stopped for the wet couple and hauled their soggy bottoms to Augusta. Thirty minutes later, George and Alice had checked into the Holiday Inn and George was riding with Triple-A road service. Then, after another hour and thirty minutes he was back with their rental.

When George was wrung out and dried, he and Alice retired to the lounge where they both mellowed out on martinis and got all giggly-silly about the whole bizarre incident. And, yes, they still do live happily even after a little family road rage.

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