Coming home from the beach this past Sunday, we were traveling along at a nice little clip..."B" was driving, Annette had called shotgun...Jenn and I are in the backseat. We had just spent 3 of the most glorious days imaginable on the sugar sands of the Redneck Riveria (also known as Panama City Beach). We were cruisin' along at about 55-60 mph up Hwy 231...when up ahead we see:
Me (from the backseat): Hey, guys? Is that....???? NO!
Annette (looking up from her magazine): Oh. My. God! Get closer, B!! Get closer!!
Jenn: You have GOT to be kidding me! This is like a safety message happening right in front of us! Come on, B! Get closer!
And so she did:
No, you're not wrong...it's exactly what it looks like:
We followed them for a good 5 miles (at 55-60 mph) before they finally slowed down and turned off.
"Bubba" (I assume) slid a titch...got a better footing...steadied himself and stuck his right arm straight out to signal their turn.
I'd bet real money that this escapade started out with a converstation very close to this:
Bubba's buddy: Hey, I gotta get little TammySue's moved over there to her mommanthem's this afternoon. I borrowed Jethro's trailer, but ain't got nothin to tie 'er down with.
Bubba: Hold my beer. I got this.