Rock Out With Your


Nope. Not finishing that one. Every time I have a naughty word in my title, I get a fuck ton more disturbing search terms. There are some sick motherfuckers out there. And I use that word literally in this case.

Anyway, Randy and I went to the grocery early Sunday morning, as we do.

I haven’t slept in on a Sunday for 21 years. Randy is a twisted person who gets up early on the weekends even though he doesn’t have to. He’s content to be alone in the morning for a little while, but he always wakes me up. Always.

Randy’s preferred grocery store is a twenty minute drive from our house, all winding back roads.

Randy does most of the driving, but I probably should. I don’t freak out the way he does.

Whenever he drives, Randy freaks out when he sees a cop. He checks seat belts, the speedometer, and then starts making vague little noises about the stripey hole. So, we are driving along this morning and the ride goes from smooth as ice to this weird little herky jerky motion. I’m thinking “What the fuck is he doing?” So I look in the review mirror and see a white SUV behind us. “Oh, he sees that and thinks it’s a cop behind us.”

Me: You just make it worse, you know. Rock Out With Your

Randy: What are you talking about?

Me: First you tell me why you are obsessively checking the rear view mirror and why the car is jerking all over the place.

Randy: I can’t tell if that is a cop behind us.

Me: Yeah, that’s what I thought. I could tell a cop was around by how the ride just changed.

Randy: It changed because I moved my hand lower on the steering wheel. That’s it.

Me: Bullshit.

Randy: See? My hand is moved and the ride is smooth again.

Me: That isn’t a cop by the way.

Randy: I know.

Me: Yes. And that is why the ride is smooth now.

Randy: It was the way I had my hands positioned.

Me: We can do this all day, but I knew without looking that a cop was nearby. It’s not like I haven’t been riding in a car with you for 21 goddamn years.

Randy: In a row?


We did our shopping and as we were walking through the parking lot, a car passed by and the dude was rocking out. I don’t know what band he was listening to. Something metal like Slayer or Metallica or something. He had to have been pushing 80. He parked in a handicap spot, waited for his song to finish, got out of his car with a cane, and hobbled through the parking lot. He is my hero.

Randy: That’s it right there.

Me: What?

Randy: That’s what the nursing homes are going to sound like when we are old.

We got in the car and Randy opened a bag of peach and habanero tortilla chips.

Me: Dude. Those smell so bad.

Randy: They’re pretty good.

Me: Seriously, your breath could choke a dinosaur.

Randy: I should have gotten something to drink. Like a beer.

Me: Hahahahahaha. Yeah. If you had an open beer in the car and saw a cop or even thought you saw a cop, the car would just flip over on the roof.

Randy: It was the way my hand was positioned.

He never did admit that he spazzes out whenever he sees a cop. But I did get the tiniest ghost of the smile he gives me when he knows he is busted.

We listened to a show on Sirius/XM called 1st Wave. We listened to the Talking Heads, Joy Division, and Peter Gabriel and I thought Randy was right. When we’re in the nursing home, the music will be all Elvis Costello, the Clash, and Tom Petty. Well, it will if I have control of the dial. I probably won’t, though because Randy is a music hog.

He’d say he isn’t and would probably blame it on his hand positioning.


Photo courtesy of Tomasz Zagorski




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  • This was horribly funny. The line about the car flipping over was the best line I’ll read today.

    I heard Metallica in a car commercial this morning, though, so the old guy might just might have been listening to commercials.

  • My husband is the exact same way! He gets all skitzy and shakes more than Don Knotts trying to load his one bullet! It must be the “smokers” fear of getting busted although, I never shake like that! He studies every car in front, beside, and as far back as he can see in the rearview mirror! He wouldn’t admit it either!

  • I can see how peach habanero tortilla chips would be both tasty and REEK. Domino’s has a mango habanero dipping sauce for their chicken pieces (they’re not really tenders) that I get, which is sweet but so so burny.

    It’s funny, the way you get to know each other’s quirks, even the subconscious ones. My fiancé and I haven’t been together as long as you and Randy, but we’ve both got ’em. (plus, it’s funny you bring up Talking Heads; I love them, my fiancé Does. Not.)

  • Oh, ha! That’s wonderful. And totally understandable. My husband likes to watch the treeline…or the sky. He’ll say, Look! An elk! I just look at him and tell him I’ll be the one to keep my eye on the road, only to be told he’s watching the road! Mmhmm. 😀

    Thanks for finding me on twitter. Love the webpage, too, btw.

  • I can relate to the old guy, even though I don’t like loud distractions in the car when I’m driving. (I screw up more when I have music playing, I tested that theory when I drove a delivery truck. Mostly I missed more exits, but if I did that, what else was I missing?)
    When I got to see The Joy Formidable last November at a winery in Sonoma, after Sara parked the car and we were walking across the grassy field they were using as a parking lot, one of the staff saw me walking with my quad-cane and called a golf cart on his radio to drive me the rest of the way to the venue. I was a little embarrassed, but mostly thankful. I always try to be calm around cops; whether I succeed or not is another matter entirely.

  • Funny post. This cop paranoia seems to be universal. My partner/spousal equivalent/I-refuse-to-call-him-boyfriend-since-we’re-both-way-too-old-for-that immediately slows down whenever he sees a cop, like he’s sure he was speeding, even though in reality he’s driving so slow I’m sitting there wishing I had my own gas pedal (right beside my own brake) that I could push on.
    I want to hear Bob Dylan in my nursing home, BTW. How cool would that be?

  • You know what else you’ll hear in the nursing home? Very colourful language. And I mean a lot of it. I’ve worked in a home. Dementia has a way of loosening tongues – that’s how sometimes these old folks will come out with stuff that makes you laugh or blush. But M, think about US in a home… they way we talk now,oy! What’ll we sound like when our editing machine craps out? The air will be blue, baby!

  • I so understand why he does that – while I don’t think my driving changes, my heart always jumps into my throat because I think “I wonder if they will catch me for something” even if I haven’t been doing anything wrong !!!!!
    I have to agree with Cindy H – those lines make me laugh – and I can just ‘hear’ the silence and query happening !!! PMSL
    Have a wonderful wonderful day xox
    PS – I know you aren’t interested in Red Sox baseball but I am soooooooooooooooooo unhappy that we (Australia Foxtel) are not televising opening day at Fenway Park – it’s a travesty I say !!!

  • I think you are Elaine Benes from “Seinfeld” where you can make the funniest stories out of everyday, ordinary events. Except the hand thing. Don’t tell Randy but I just don’t think that’s it. Sorry, Randy. There are no cops. Check out Dunkin Donuts….

  • Ha. This is me if I had ONE sip to drink. I act so stupid I am begging to get pulled over – all hands at 10 and 2 and shit. “Ma’am, have you been drinking?” Yes, just cuff me. I had a sip of a white wine spritzer and have no business driving. I should go to jail for Driving While Paranoid.

  • Obviously, the solution is to do the driving myself.
    We’ll meet up.
    Tim’s ‘wish it was a brake floormat’ and ‘Oh Shit’ bar on his side of my car take too much of a beating.
    Tim drives like an idiot, cop or no cop. Acts like it’s the aisles in Walmart and those cars are mobility scooters.
    When we DO have to do it together, and that’s usually only on my way HOME from the hospital, I try to stay in my happy place.
    As far as the Po-Po go… HA.
    Keeping in mind, I live in a rural, wave at the cops, small town/village. When I get pulled over (Because it’s 45 miles of straight as fuck for as far as you can see fields everywhere asphalt coating between gas stations kind of road that makes you have to pee just getting in the car) I just ask them, “Why they haven’t you been in the library? After all, as public servants, we should be on a first name basis! The children need to see you using the library!”
    And then they smile and laugh…. usually.
    Got to the point that one (?) sheriff just flashed his lights as he went by. I took it as a friendly wave… probably.
    Damn sobriety. Takes the paranoid thrill out of it every time.
    Randy, just wave and smile at them. Especially when they are behind you. They can see your face in your mirror, you know 🙂
    Works for me 🙂
    (Except for the Staters. They wanna know why you’re so happy… )

  • I have the same problem, but not just with cops. If I even *suspect* that someone thinks I’m lying or doing something I shouldn’t, I start looking and acting guilty. I have no idea why. I hate it. I’m like, “I KNOW I LOOK LIKE I’M A LYING LIAR BUT I’M NOT I’M A GOOD PERSON SO FUCK YOU.”

    I’m pretty sure I would fail a polygraph even if it only asked me my name and birthday.

  • haha…..a friend of mine from New Orleans sent me a picture of Lays potato chips that were biscuit and gravy flavoured.
    Love reading the banter between you two…..and the 80 year old rocking out made me smile big time.

By Michelle


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