A friend recently retuned from a motor bike tour that she and her husband took down the Oregon coast. While she was the passenger on the back of the bike and her husband was driving, something began to go terribly wrong.

He first started swerving, then nearly lost control of the bike while dodging a car as he quickly pulled off to the side of the highway. They had barely come to a stop when he suddenly jumped off the bike and took to struggling with his leather jacket as if it were on fire.

Just then a highway patrol officer pulled up with lights flashing. The officer cautiously approached as my friend’s husband performed something that my friend described as a cross between a frantic Strip-tease and the Macarena dance on fast forward, by the side of the highway.
She said that while trying to extricate himself from the jacket, he swatted at his shoulder, then his chest, then reached inside the jacket, then swatted at his other shoulder, then undid the cuff zipper on a sleeve…like that.

While trying to balance the bike and get it on its stand, she became increasingly fascinated by her husband’s road side performance; because typically his dance moves were more along the lines of a bear suffering from a sore paw.
Apparently the one man show also gained the attention of passing motorists, who applauded with a couple of admiring horn honks.

When the officer asked her “What’s going on?” she caught herself doing an instinctive side-to-side head shake and shoulder shrug, while trying to appear casual and unrelated to the dancer in any way.
I really admire that friend because she knows when and how to distance herself from potential trouble.

The officer then approached her husband and asked again, “What’s up?”
Still doing the dance her husband gasped, “Some wasps flew into my jacket and they’re stinging me.”
Growing concerned, the officer asked “Are you anaphylactic?”

At this point the husband, who is usually a quiet spoken and calm individual, seemingly became incensed at having received some sort of derogatory insult and ceased to dance just long enough to firmly assert,
“No, I’m Canadian!”

Her husband’s reply left my friend and the officer, first stunned and then in stitches.
Me too .

With love, Erika

LOL...I thought maybe he had something not cool hidden in his clothes and had seen the police officer and was trying to get rid of the evidence...too funny...Canadian...

LOL ... that's a Late Show comedy hit!

EEEEK!!! And wasps, unlike bees, can keep stinging, too!!!
Canadian..

funny! reminds me of the time a former boyfriend and I had rented a convertable to drive to the Cape. He was doing about 60 when all of a sudden he all but locked up the brakes and pulled over. He was jumping around like a nutjob, all the while trying to take off his pants. The family who came rushing to our aid finally got him to tell us all what was wrong-

A passing car flicked a cig and it landed in his crotch. He was trying to get away from the burning tip, as it had gone thru to his tidey-whities. I still crack up at the mental picture of him on the interstate with his pants around his ankles

thanks for a good laugh and a memory Erika!

Now that is funny, Jane...well at least to those of us with a wicked sense of humour .

With love, Erika

Back when my kids were little we used to let them outside to play (imagine that nowadays)We live on a cul-de-sac, so it was pretty safe.
My sons went down a couple houses to their friend's house. Eldest son was about 6 and his brother was 4. As they were leaving, I reminded them not to bother the mom and to come home if they need to use the bathroom or get a snack.

About an hour later I got a call from the mom, who was a friend of mine. "Um, your 4 year old had a problem..."

Uh-oh...

"He suddenly said he had to go home...then I saw him drop his pants and poop on my driveway..."

"I'll be right over," I said, took a bag and paper towels, and ran down. My poor 4 yr old sat there in the grass crying.

I bent down and hugged him. "Why did you go potty on her driveway?"

"Cause, you told me not to use her bathroom and I couldn't make it all the way home, but I didn't want to poop in my pants."

The other mom laughed, and said, "Sweetie, you can use my bathroom any time."

She looked at me as if I was a weirdo...I don't think my son remembers this...or it scarred him for life

It is very smart to follow your instincts.