The Drive Home

The other day I was telling someone this story and I decided that I must share with all you  readers the funny, but not so funny story about a certain drive home I had one time.

My husband used to work out-of-town, in an itsy bitsy teenie weenie little town called Ely, NV. ¬†Look it up on the map. ¬†It’s literally a town of 4,000 people as said by Wikipedia in 2015. ¬†I have no clue where they get that number from because when I used to visit my husband there it literally felt like a ghost town. ¬†They must be counting people’s pets as part of the population.

Sometimes, I would get the crazy notion to pile 3 babies in diapers, two young teenage boys, and our German Shepard Roxy in our then minivan, and make the five-hour trip up to see my husband.

Without Xanax or wine.

This one trip in particular was quite a memorable one.

We had made the trip up there just fine.  The afternoon that we left we decided to grab some food.  Now I am not sure if it was the food or we all, at the same time, got some kind of nausea bug.

First it hit one of the babies and so I pulled off the road to change the horrific ghastly sickening smell which was invading one of my babies diapers in the backseat.  I mean literally it smelled like someone had crapped on the dashboard right in front of me.

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Now of course there are no garbage cans on the side of the road, in the middle of nowhere, and I wasn’t about to be an ignorant fool and just throw the diaper into the desert, so I found a bag and placed the diaper in there. ¬†And placed the bag back into the minivan.

Followed by several more, by all 3 babies, at all different times, throughout the day.

Then the bug hit me.  Like a bullet train.  And this 5 hour trip had already gone passed 5 hours and we still had over an hour to home.

No I didn’t shit my pants but there were a few times I thought I was going to have to pull over and throw-up, and the smell of all them grisly diapers sitting in a bag, somewhere in the minivan, and my dog’s stinky hot breath breathing on me, weren’t helping matters.

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Oh and did I happen to mention that it was like 120*F outside and so there was no rolling down the windows. ¬†And have you ever changed a diaper that smells like something died 2 weeks ago in it, on the side of the road, in 120*F weather? ¬†And could someone please tell me why minivans don’t come equipped with pop up changing tables?

To add to the driving nightmare we ¬†ended up behind a line of traffic. ¬†Now granted, they were all doing the speed limit but for me, that just wasn’t fast enough because I just wanted to GET HOME.

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So when it was safe, I decide to pass the 3 or 4 cars, driving at the speed limit, in front of me.  And of course I wanted to do this quickly so I think I was doing about 120 100 by the time I finally got around them.  Yes minivans can go that fast.

I was just passing them. ¬†Of course I don’t do 100 mph on a regular basis with all my kids in the car.

And up ahead what should I see just as I am getting back over into my lane… not 1 but 2 COPS!

This just wasn’t my fucking day.

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As they passed me and I looked in my side mirror I saw them turn around and so I just pulled over. ¬†Why continue to carry on acting as if you weren’t doing anything wrong and just waste more time. ¬†Time I didn’t have.

And then I watched as all the other cars that I had passed, driving past me, eyeing me, and probably thinking to themselves…”ha ha you dumb bitch, that’s what you get for speeding”.

Because that’s exactly what I think when I see some asshole, whose speeding past me, and then having the delight of seeing them being pulled over up ahead.

The cops approach the car and while standing at my window, I roll it down. ¬†There is no way that they couldn’t have gotten a whiff of what was lurking from the inside of my minivan. ¬†I am actually quite surprised that they didn’t ask to see if I had a dead body in the back.

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Let’s just say they clocked my speed at about 60mph over the speed limit

They took one look inside, asked me for my license and registration, and then asked me where I was coming from and where I was headed.

I answered them in the nice way, but what I really wanted to do was tell them something smart ass like “Oh I am just out on a Sunday stroll with my 5 kids, the panting dog, and oh THIS BAG FULL OF SHITTY DIAPERS!”

And then puke on their shoes.

They must have known it had been a rough ride for me because they kindly gave me a warning to slow down, handed me back my license and registration, and let me go.

I was shocked.

We finally made it home safe and sound but I am quite certain that the smell of that bag full of shitty diapers was still lingering in that minivan when we traded it in.

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