Nothing parses your undivided devotion to the road and surrounding four-wheeled missiles quite like the unexpected aroma of one of Florida’s mountains.
And recently, I’ve noticed that as your incoming scent transitions from “New Car Scent” to warmed-over poop, there is a 3-5 second time frame during which you actually question the connection between your brain and your bowels.
Here’s how it goes.
*sniff*
“What IS that?” – You think.
*sniff*
“Did I shit myself?” – You dread.
*sniff*
“Maybe I just stepped in something.” – You hope.
*sniff*
“Ok it’s definitely NOT me. Time to call out [insert passenger name].”
“HEY, did you FART?” – You accuse.
“NO, you idiot. Look out the window.” – Shim responds.