a swan and a fart

The Sober Husband always wants to drive (which incidentally is not a reflection of my alcohol appreciation; I never drive drunk). He's a very slow, poky driver who comes to stops at times for no apparent reason and who, until recently, was given to texting a lot on his iPhone while driving. I can be driven to madness while riding shotgun (the trip to insanity is shortened by the squabbling emanating from the backseat). Today he was insisting on driving and wanting me to look at his iPhone to tell him how to go, despite the fact that I didn't want to look at the damn iPhone because I knew exactly where we were going and if I were driving, I could just head there expeditiously. I voiced that opinion and said, "Why do you always have to drive? I'm a great driver! I drive like a swan! Graceful and quick!"

"Well, I drive like a fish! Smooth and strong!"

"You do NOT drive like a fish! You do not drive 'smooth'!"

I appealed to the children, normally reasonable arbiters (in other words, usually siding with their mother on the driving question. They adore their father but have been known to say, "Oh, good, Mommy's driving" when their mother managed to grab the seat behind the wheel first). "What do I drive like?"

"Like a big wooden stick," said Lola judiciously. I had committed the Cardinal Sin of Litigators: I had asked a question when I hadn't been sure what answer I would get. Emboldened, he Sober Husband jumped in. "What do I drive like?"

"Like a fart!" shouted Iris uber Alles.

Later Lola reconsidered the "big wooden stick" judgment and opined that her dear mother "drives like vomit. But vomit is a GOOD driver."