By Am
She glanced over at the passenger seat. He slept peacefully … his head cradled in the half circle of the little polka-dot travel pillow he had scoffed at when she had bought it … but now insisted it be part of the “packing list.” She smiled and shook her head … both in amusement and to try keep the cobwebs from becoming any worse. She was sleepy and suddenly she heard his voice echo around in her head.
“When you get tired … WAKE me up!”
She smiled again. Always the dominant one. Well, she would NOT awaken him for at least another hour. He was exhausted and deserved this time of respite.
It would be nice to roll down the window for some cool spring air … or turn up the stereo … but both of those acts would bring him out of slumber. He was a light sleeper.
Stifling a yawn, she turned her attention to the surrounding countryside. Miles and miles of verdant, green, rolling hills — beautiful, but not enough to capture her attention for very long. Another yawn. It was getting harder to keep her eyes from slamming shut. Her head jerked … so did the car … and he came awake with a startle.
“What??”
Taking a fresh grip on the wheel, she smoothed the panic out of her face and smiled at him.
“Nothing. Everything is fine … no worries.”
“The car jerked!”
“Did it? Hmmm … I … I didn’t want to hit a chipmunk … sorry … I thought I was smoother than that.”
He looked at her suspiciously.
She smiled and reached for some bubble gum. Now that he was awake, she could rattle the paper.
“I’m fine, Truly. Go back to sleep.”
“Do you remember what I told you, Miss?”
“About?”
“You driving tired.”
“Oh … absolutely.” She nodded hard for emphasis.
Then she felt her bottom clench. Her mate was the old-fashioned sort. Any “disobedience” would find her paying a stinging price over his knee, bare bottomed and yelping. She felt her eyes look heavenward for a moment and she quickly blew a lovely pink bubble to refocus her swirling thoughts.
POP!
He gave a soft chuckle.
“Brat! Okay … I’ll close my eyes just for a few moments more, then it’s my turn to drive again.”
The little blue car spun swiftly on and he once again fell asleep. She breathed a sigh of relief at the reprieve and felt the adrenalin slowly leave her system as once again “white line fever” took its place.
Just as she was losing the battle with Morpheus … a large white sign caught her attention.
“Those who drive …. “
How very odd! Maybe someone had just not finished it. Then, about a mile further on, another sign.
“Without much sleep …. “
She shook her head. What was up with that one? Another mile … another sign.
“Should stay at home …. “
Now she was intrigued. Sure enough, another mile brought another sign.
“Try counting sheep!
Burma Shave!”
She had to smile. She remembered the old shaving cream ads … they had made her laugh. Looking them up on the internet together had revealed quite a few gems. One played through her head as she drove.
To kiss a mug
That’s like a cactus
Takes more nerve
Than it does practice
Burma Shave
She gave a silent giggle. He was often making up “new ads” using the old scheme. Most of them seemed to have a “spanking theme” staring herself. In fact, he had come up with one just this morning:
Chin in hand
Pyjamas down
Yelping Miss
Wears a frown
Burma Shave!
It really was some sort of odd coincidence that she should be seeing the same sort of rhyme here … and now. Someone from a time past must have placed the signs there and forgotten to take them down. The distraction had worked … had kept that muzzy feeling at bay … but as the road went on and on … she had to fight it again. Suddenly the tires crunched through the gravel on the side of the road. She grabbed the wheel tightly and brought the car to a stop … and faced him … coming out of a sound snooze … and clearly unhappy.
He unbuckled his seat belt.
“Out. Now.”
She wanted to argue, but he was already out of his side and opening hers, holding out a hand to. . . help her out. . or help her over his knee? She gulped and unbuckled her belt. The sign dead ahead read ….
“Didn’t listen?”
She looked up into his un-amused face. Well, it was worth a try. Getting out, she pointed quickly.
“See that?”
He read the sign.
“So?”
“Um … well … you know those old Burma Shave commercials you and I have laughed at before? The ones you make up all the time?”
He nodded and tightened his grip on her hand. She bit her lower lip and then hurried on.
“Well, I guess I was distracted by that sign up ahead … I mean,” she rushed on as his brows knit further together, “there were a whole bunch of signs further back … while you were sleeping … and they were for a Burma Shave ad.” She recited the little rhyme. “And I think this one might be the start of the next set … and … um … maybe you should drive? I have a feeling there’s another sign in about a mile. . I can’t wait to read it. . . !!”
He gave her an intense look … nodded again and she slipped her hand out of his and headed for the passenger side. She could tell he was still rather tired. No doubt they would “discuss” her driving when they reached their destination. She gave a shiver of anticipation and stared out the front window … hoping she was right … that there was another sign ahead. She became less than pleased when it popped into view to read ….
“Down come pants!”
HE had the audacity to smile. She crossed her arms and pursed her lips. . not so sure she wanted to read the next one. It came just after the crest of the next hill.
“Birch will whistle …. “
He gave her a full-blown grin and she found herself holding her breath as the final sign appeared.
“Legs will dance!
Burma Shave!”
With a chortle, he pulled the car over and stopped.
“Good idea.”
“What’s a good idea?”
“Your legs should be ‘dancing’, Miss. I believe you were instructed to awaken me if you felt sleepy. I don’t believe you followed those instructions … did you?”
She felt the blood suffuse her face. Here eyes fell to the floorboards as she whispered, “No.”
“Well, whoever posted those signs seemed to know the countryside. Look … there is a lovely grove of birch trees!”
Her eyes got wide as she quickly looked out the side window and gasped.
He smiled at her obvious distress as she squirmed in her seat. Reaching into his pocket, he pulled out his pocket knife.
“There you go … go cut several … about the width of your pinkie … make them long enough … bring them back and I will help you ‘prepare’ them.”
“Noooooooo!” It was a long and pitiful wail.
He fixed her with a stern and unyielding look.
“Trust me, you don’t want ME to go and cut them!”
*************************************************
About an hour later there were only two sounds in the once again swiftly moving car. She was sniffling and he was humming. Up and over the next crest came the final set of signs.
“Careful drivers ….
Attend to signs ….
Heedless bottoms ….
Bear red lines!
Burma Shave!”
(Story inspired by this picture from Belts_Bare.)