Thursday, January 2, 2014

The 12 Warnings of Christmas

In all reality, this post has nothing to do with Christmas, other than the fact that we recently got home from a trip to Oklahoma to celebrate Christmas with the Wife's family. It was a quick trip, taking a total of about 72 hours, 21 of which were spent in the car. We didn't have a whole lot of time to spend with the family, but our kids did get to open up about a billion Christmas presents each, so I would call it a successful trip. We barely had enough room in the van to bring all their presents home, but we got them stuffed in somehow, so they were happy.

Every time we make the drive to Oklahoma, which was four times this year alone, not that I'm counting, it reminds me of the very first time I made the drive. I was a happy-go-lucky bachelor, heading down to meet my then-girlfriend's sisters, brothers-in-law, and nieces and nephews for what I believe was the very first time. I was blinded by love, and had no idea where this burgeoning relationship would take me in the years to come. Despite the fact that the then-girlfriend had asked me how many kids I wanted on one of our very first dates, the chaos that has now engulfed our home never crossed my mind back then. I probably should have seen it all coming, huh? That's beside the point, though.

In the years since my first trip to meet the family, my limited brain space has really only retained one vivid memory from that first trip, and that was the fact that I got pulled over for speeding by the friendly local police three separate times, yet I didn't receive a single ticket. It's pretty amazing, huh? I know, right?

Thankfully, that's been the way life has been going for me for a long time. In fact, the last 12 times I've been pulled over, I've only gotten warnings. No tickets. And I have no sane explanation for why this has happened. It seems to defy all logic.

Although I find myself to be ruggedly handsome, I doubt that my excruciatingly good looks had much to do with it. And it's not like I have some sob story I tell the officers. I just tell them the truth. Maybe police officers throughout this great nation of ours don't come across many honest speeders, so they take pity on me. I don't know. Whatever it is I do to keep getting just warnings, I plan to keep doing it.

Almost makes me look forward to lucky number 13! I should probably watch what I wish for...
This could be me, if, instead of a gray Porsche, it was a gray minivan with a Thule topper, a Spam ball on the antenna, and three kids in car seats.

4 comments:

  1. Happy New Year!!! You sure are entertaining!!! Judy

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  2. Replies
    1. It's gray! Oh, and I need to tell you - Connie got about a dozen Spam balls for a Christmas present, since we kept losing ours. But then at some point on our trip to Oklahoma, the entire antenna broke off about 4 inches above the hood of the van. So, all of our Spam balls are sitting in the box, patiently waiting for me to fix it. So, now we distinguish our gray minivan from all the other gray minivans by the broken antenna. I found it all to be highly ironic.

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