Yesterday afternoon we packed up the kid and headed to Grandma’s. The 20 minute car ride the the only period of time during the entire day when her mouth wasn’t conveying outrage at the human condition. “What is wrong with her?” Jon would ask, frustrated that we couldn’t do anything to alleviate her agony, my euphemism for “shutting her up.”
The only thing I could come up with was, “There were 28 years of my life when she wasn’t around to punish me for my sins. She’s making up for lost time.”
As we neared the border of Salt Lake and Davis counties a woman sped past us on a Harley. She wasn’t wearing a helmet or even a shirt with sleeves or a back or enough material to cover vital organs. I blame this behavior, and the logic of local pedestrians who play in traffic, on the Mormon practice of Patriarchal Blessings, something bestowed upon members in their youth that talks about/predicts their future if they remain faithful members unto the Lord. So if someone’s blessing talks about how she’s going to get married and have a huge family and she hasn’t yet made it to that point in her life, then it’s perfectly fine to ride a motorcycle at 85 mph in 104 degree heat WHILE WEARING NO CLOTHING because her Patriarchal Blessing is protecting her like a divinely inspired bullet-proof condom.
Jon instantly pointed out that there’s a rumor out there that Harleys are great for foreplay.
“I think I see where this is going,” I said.
“You stick your woman on the back of the bike and the vibrations are good for . . . you know.”
“Where did you hear this rumor?” I imagined that maybe he was losing his mind in his old age, today being the day that he turns two candle packages old.
“I don’t remember. Maybe work, I dunno, maybe it’s just common knowledge.”
“You sure you didn’t read it on WhatJonWouldLikeToBeTrue.com?”
“When we get home I’m so going to register that domain.”