Road Trip Conversations...

Here are just a few samplings of banter from our latest road-trips:

"You know, this actually isn't a bad radio station," Mitchell nodded on beat from the back seat.

"It's Denny's iPod," said Josh.

"What? No it's not."

"Sure it is."

"Great," I said. "You just complimented Denny."

"I take it back."

---

"Wouldn't it be great if a guy just came out of that house and said 'Hey! Y'all want some fresh biscuits?' and made them for us right here from scratch?" We were clearly getting delusional by this point in the trip.

"Yeah," said Mitchell. "But he'd say 'biscuit,' not 'biscuits': 'You want some fresh biscuit?'"

We all looked at Mitchell quizzically.

"Guys like that always just say 'biscuit.,'" he added, as if that clarified his point.

---

"Oh, come ON!" I sighed.

"Alan," said Mitchell, "You have a bad habit for getting behind the slowest, dumbest people on the road."

"Thanks, Mitchell."

"I'd say it was just bad luck, but...I don't know anymore. I just don't know."

"Thanks, Mitchell."

"Alan..."

"Yeah?"

"You are a failure."

"Thanks, Mitchell."

---

As we drove along the lonely interstate drinking our coffee and planning our next few days, we sometimes passed the time by reading aloud. And what better story to read than an old "Choose Your Own Adventure" book?:

"What do you think, Meechell?"

"Huh? Sorry guys, if I don't get a choice at least every 2 pages, I start to tune out. What'd you say the choices were?"

"A T-Rex is chasing us and we can either dodge right (pg. 28) or turn around and run through his legs (pg. 54)."

"Hm. I say - dodge right."

"Oh no." I sighed, knowing this was going to end poorly, "That's a terrible idea."

Denny continued reading: "You decide to dodge right and make a run for the bushes. Unfortunately, the T-Rex is not only a skilled predator, but a fast one as well. Long before you reach the bushes, you come face to face with the sharp jaws of a pre-historic creature hungry for your flesh. The End."

"What? We just died?" said Mitchell, apparently in shock.

"Great," I said. "Why didn't you turn around? You know his brain is small - they said it was the size of a peanut - we just threw a rock at him and he was dazed for three minutes! Run through his legs, and he'll have no idea what's going on! Good grief, you've gotta pay attention to the details."

"Look," said Mitchell in his own defense, "I do best at these when they give me large firearms."

"When do they ever do that? We've read five of these and not once did they give you a firearm!"

"This is dumb, guys," said Andrew, "you think we can take a break from this awhile?"

---

"Don't you think it'd be cool if people started saying 'I'll see you in Hell!' when they parted ways, instead of lame things like 'bye' or 'see-ya!'? You know, like they do in all the Westerns?" This was Mitchell again, never at a loss for something absurd to talk about.

"I'm pretty confident that would take a while to catch on," suggested Denny. "But maybe that's just me."

"Yeah...well, it took electricity a while to catch on too, you know..."

"Guys," said Andrew, "what are you talking about? That doesn't even make sense." We all looked at him blankly.

"Hey!" Mitchell said, distracted. "Is that The Fox and the Hound?"

Denny leaned closer to the front windshield, peering through the back of the van in front of us. "I think so -"

"Let's stick close to this guy for a while..."