Page 13 of Truth or More Truth
“Hey, why does my dare have to be humiliating?”
“Because it’s more fun that way.” I think for a minute. “Ah! I’ve got it.” I do a drumroll on the steering wheel before saying, “I dare you to get a trucker to honk his horn at you.”
“Seriously?” he asks.
“What? It’ll be fun!”
“No self-respecting trucker is going to honk his horn for me. I’m a grown man—not a kid or a pretty lady. I’m not doing it.”
“We’ll just have to hope for a non-self-respecting trucker then, won’t we?”
“You’re going to have to dare me to do something else.”
“Nope.” I shake my head. “The dare has been put out into the universe, and therefore, it must be accepted. Those are the rules.”
“Fine.”
I move into the passing lane and speed up so we’re right next to a semi truck. Then I slow down so we’re driving at the same pace.
“Here we go,” I say. “First chance. Gofor it, big guy.”
Bobby lets out a giant sigh before closing his right hand into a fist and pumping his arm up and down. I giggle at the sight.
“He didn’t honk,” I say. “Is he looking at you?”
He peers out the window. “Uh, yeah.”
“And?”
“He’s flipping me off.”
I laugh so hard Bobby grabs the wheel to keep us in our lane.
“Pay attention to the road and get around him,” Bobby orders. “I’m afraid of what he might do next.”
Honestly, I am, too, so I do as I’m told.
“Are you really going to make me do that again?” he asks.
“Yep. A dare is a dare.” I point forward. “Here’s another truck up ahead. Get your arm ready, Bobby Joe.”
To my surprise, Bobby stretches and flexes his right arm. I smile as I pull up next to the truck, wondering how many times we’re going to have to do this before he’s successful.
Bobby pumps his fist, and I jump in my seat as the truck’s horn blares three times.
A few seconds later, Bobby yells, “Speed up! Speed up!”
I say, “Why? You were successful! Go, Bobby Joe!”
He turns to fully face me with wide eyes. “Melissa, if you don’t move past this truck right now?—”
I hit the gas before he can articulate the rest of his threat.
“What happened?” I ask as I pass a few more cars. “Why are you so wigged out?”
“Wigged out?”
“Yeah, you’re totally wigged out. Explain yourself.”
