Ok, I admit it. I don’t like bouncing around in a dang Jeep, and I don’t see the thrill in holding on while he deliberately drives over every rock on the mountain.
And please don’t get me started on the drives placing us six inches from a 100-foot drop… on dirt.
He doesn’t see why anyone would want to stare at a flower for twenty minutes and take fifty photos of the same thing; or sit on a rock waiting for a mountain bluebird to return to the exact branch it was on yesterday.
We are who we are.
I am a terrible passenger, and his patience is questionable, so our strategy on this road called life, is to meet compromise.
What he knows, on this particular adventure, is I will complain the whole way.
What I know, is he will pretend not to hear me.
But what we both know, is eventually he will stop, and eventually I will get out, because that road that he calls fun, brings me to mine.
And to his.
Enjoy this ride called life.