Published Thursday, February 14, 2008 1:52 PM
Updated Thursday, February 14, 2008 1:53 PM

 

Inklings

Rest Stops


My most devilish pleasure in being married for half century is that my husband’s bladder capacity has finally matched mine. You understand this is quite a downgrade for him. But really, it’s about time for reciprocity.

It seems to me that for much of my marriage, I’ve ridden in cars with my legs crossed. During our 25 years in the Air Force we’ve driven across the United States and Europe. I sipped ice cubes; Jim constantly drank coffee. And not once did that man ever stop at a restroom. Well, that’s not quite true, but it sure seemed like that to me!

We usually had four kids and at least one dog with us on these road trips. His mantra was that when the car’s tank was empty; we could stop and empty ours. While we all raced to the rest room he would buy himself a huge soft drink, leisurely gas up, pay the bill and casually – never hurriedly – stroll over to the men’s room while finishing his latest libation.

He was not only maddening, he was devious. When one of the kids would request a potty break, he’d say cajolingly, “Now there’s a rest stop up the road, I just saw a sign.” If he did spot an upcoming stop, he’d divert our attention to the other side of the road and/or speed up a bit.

“Wait daddy, one of the kids would yell, “You just passed it!” My hero would reply, “Oops, well what do you know! Let’s all try to do better and watch more carefully.” I’d catch the little smirk on his face as he drove rapidly on.

He would do the same thing with lunch. Since we always brought along snacks, he figured he could keep stretching the stop time during the midday hours. While the “What about lunch?” questions kept coming, he’d toss back a variety of answers, like “In just a little while,” or, “I think there’s a good restaurant in the next town,” or, “*@#*! *@#*!, eat another pretzel!”

One memorable day, about 4 p.m., he finally pulled into a filling station with an adjacent restaurant. “You hustle the kids inside for a quick bite while I gas up.” When he came into the dining room our oldest son blurted, “Guess what? Mom ordered us all steaks!”

“You didn’t!” my husband was, aghast. “Sure did,” said I sweetly. “Sit down, honey. It doesn’t take long for medium rare.”

Things are entirely different these days, although he still loads up on coffee, and often I actually take a soft drink on the road, though mostly I stick with ice cubes. Driving along on a trip, he’ll say charmingly, patting my knee, “Honey, there’s a rest stop a mile up the road. Why don’t we just pull in? I’ll bet you’re ready for a break.”

I won’t say that he screeches into a parking slot at these times. But if I’m not quick out of that car door, he’s already snapped the lock and is dashing up the walkway. I chuckle to myself as I do my own senior sprint up to the door marked “women,” chatting silently with God. “Thanks, I tell Him. “This has definitely been worth waiting for!”