Road Trip

“Shaved another minute off!” Mark cried with glee.

Sandy never opened her eyes. Morgan Wallen in her ear buds didn’t quite drown her boyfriend out, but she played like it did.

“Honey, seriously! That’s 23 minutes less than what the GPS said it’d take! Thankfully Charlotte traffic wasn’t that bad. GPS said we’d pull in the driveway at 7:30 exactly, but shows what SHE knows. Gonna get there at 7:07 – and maybe sooner. I’m shooting for 7pm exactly.” He drummed his fingers on the steering wheel. “I can definitely get home before seven.” He was talking to himself now. Sandy never acknowledged him. She hoped he was right; she loved him like crazy but road trips with him were hell. Everything was about a shorter route, a faster trip. It was his obsession. Two months ago they had taken a weekend trip to Nashville. Mark actually had the nerve to suggest her bathroom break at a Kangaroo Mart just outside of Knoxville could have been quicker.

Did she passive-aggressively slow him down on the return trip in a variety of ways? You know damned well she did. And he learned. He had crossed a line and she had showed him what that would cost.

He hadn’t suggested she speed up food or bathroom breaks the rest of that trip, or this one.

“This one” was a trip to see friends in Lewisburg, West Virginia. Another “leave work early” Friday trip and a return trip after lunch on Sunday meant a fairly quick turn-around, but the visit had been pleasant enough. Even the ride wasn’t that bad, as long as she pretended she couldn’t hear Mark crow or complain about the time he was making over the sound of her country music. Eventually she went from feigning sleep to actually falling asleep.

A voice, the British female voice Mark had selected for the GPS, spoke up. “Your destination is on your left. You have reached your destination.”

“6:59!!! DID IT!!!” he yelled, this time penetrating both her music and the fog of sleep.

“Way to go,” Sandy muttered. She could see they were in the parking lot of their apartment complex.

Mark beamed. “Straight shot from Columbia all the way to Florence! No cops, no construction, no congestion. I could have shaved another couple minutes off if I decided to go all Cannonball Run, but I didn’t wanna test my luck.”

“You’re a man among men, Mark. Constantly raising the bar.”

“It’s why you love me,” he grinned.

It wasn’t, really, but she loved him all the same. Hated the road trips, but loved him.