Things not to do to your pregger wife

My friends, I apologize. I've been remiss in spending any time updating this blog as of late. I have, instead, been busy riding my bike, skating whenever I can, signing up to volunteer with the Democratic National Convention and generally pissing off the pregger wife. Yup. That's the biggie...pissing her off.

I'm not quite sure how this one came about. Being the prankster I am, I'm sure the niggling desire to continue my merry ways overcame all sane and better judgment.

My friend, Anthony, the one who takes the fantastic biking pics (amongst other things), decided that his Xterra was not returning the best fuel economy for everyday driving. He settled on a Mazda Miata which I duly pointed out is a woman's car (note to female friends...this does not mean that only women should drive the Miata. I am merely suggesting that some cars seem to be marketed more to women than to men. Hell, I think the Volvo is a women's car but I still like it. Alright...flame away!). Not this one. This is a full on race car. It has been turbo'd. It has a race suspension (it literally corners like it is on rails). Race tires. Race wheels. Race tranny. It will kill a Corvette C5 off the line. AND. It gets over 30 mpg as a daily driver. Pretty cool!

On the first day, Anthony took me for a spin. Going into the first corner at around 60 mph, I reached up to grab the A-pillar to brace myself. It wasn't necessary. The Miata zipped around the corner and accelerated into the next. When we stopped to turn around, Anthony climbed out and let me drive back. It was too fast. I found myself backing off the gas simply because we were going way too fast on a quiet little frontage road here in Golden. Good fun!

That night, I told Hope I got to drive a race car. She asked why and I...this is where that merry prankster kicks in...said I was looking at it. She asked why I was looking at cars without her and how I could afford it. I said I traded a Cannondale for it. She said, "oh, your old frame". I stumbled here. I told her it would be the tandem (oh boy). Response: "WHAT? You are going to get rid of OUR tandem? I love that bike". I responded calmly that we are not using that bike right now, won't be using it any time in the near future and that when we are ready, we can always get a newer, better model. This, needless to say, went over poorly.

The next day, Anthony needed to drop the work truck off for some maintenance. He let me follow him over in his new race car (see, I just can't say I was driving a Miata). So I took a cell phone pic of me driving with the top down and sent it to her at the next stop. She wasn't pleased. She asked where Gibson sat when I was driving this car. I took a cell phone pic of Gibson looking handsome and stately in the passenger seat of said Miata (see, Gibson doesn't have these hangups about Miatas...). Her response: cute pic but get rid of the car.

Then brother Jeff called. Asked why I was pissing off the crazy pregger lady. I told him to vocally ream me out while I explained the story to him on the phone. His conclusion? I'm an idiot.

I allowed this to play on for several days. I was even considering picking Hope up at the airport in my friend's race car. But I had to back it off eventually. The charade had gone along too far and I could sense the frustration building. I let it slide in a later conversation that I hadn't traded for the car. That I was just being my foolish and prankish self.

Hope returned to Colorado quite pleased. And as soon as she got back, I went and looked at a new Jetta TDI. It starts again....