That F*$&er Came Out of Nowhere

My husband has trouble driving. It's time to retire his license and cart him around like Ms. Daisy. I'll be stuck in a motor vehicle with him, Hayden, and Ayla for over four hours this week. Hayden has surgery, and we're heading to Vanderbilt.

I can only hope that the trip goes better than our last outing. I was lending my opinion on some of his Nascar-like moves. Hayden was determined to repetitively tell us that he needed to stop at McDonald's for a cup (I know, at least he's talking). Ayla was just along for the ride. Brock enjoys slamming on his brakes at the last minute, even though anyone can clearly see that the car ahead of us is coming to a stop because of the car in front of it. Not my husband. When our latest near-collision took place, Brock was cussing at the "woman" driver who was responsible for the little predicament we almost found ourselves in.

It reminded me of the scene in the Forty-Year Old Virgin where the drunk driver finally crashes into an oncoming car. When the car comes to a stop, she exclaims, "That fucker came out of nowhere!"

So when Ayla starts to talk, don't be surprised if you hear that her first words are something similar to that. And now you know why.