6 conversations + 1 text

The Spouse is driving us through backroads on a 6 hour car trip with the ultimate destination: wedding still 3 hours away.  I'm distracted by a why am I still reading this terrible fic on my Kindle.  We pass a car dealer.

Spouse: I don't really like the new Camaros.  They're all square and blocky.

I look over my shoulder before it's out of sight and catch a faint glimpse of a white blotchy car.

Me: That's not a Camaro.  That's a Corvette.

Spouse: Oh.  Well, I don't like them.

Me:  Okay.  If we ever buy a sports car I'll remind you.

A bunch of classic cars drive past us, probably heading toward the car show we saw at a small town a while back.  Spouse clearly is bored because he starts up a car trip game.

Spouse: Oldsmobile.

Me: That's a Malibu.

Spouse: Corvette with horrible paint job.

Me: That's actually a Stingray, and that's typical, don't mock the old days, they had style.

Spouse (fingers clenching tightly on the steering wheel): How about that Mustang?

Me: Oh it's nice! (muttering quietly) GTO.

Spouse: OH COME ON

Me: We've been married how long and you forget that my dad restored classic cars for fun?  I hung out in the garage all the time!  He read me Muscle Car magazine every night to as a bedtime story!  There's no way you're going to win this game!

Spouse (relaxing): Oh, right.  I forgot.

Five minutes pass.

Spouse: I spy with my little eye something brown with wings.

Me (squinting at him, half-distracted by the terrible, no-good, train wreck, can't put it down even though I should know better book): Did a Trans Am just drive past?

Spouse: Fuck off.

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