Martha and Harold had been counting down to their retirement road trip like kids waiting for summer break. The car was packed, their favorite country playlist was rolling, and the open highway made everything feel new again. Martha drove with a bright grin and the confidence of someone who finally had nowhere to be on anyone else’s schedule. Harold relaxed in the passenger seat, soaking in the sunshine—until Martha’s “just enjoying the ride” speed crept a little higher than it should have. Then flashing red-and-blue lights appeared in the mirror, instantly turning joy into nervous silence.

Martha pulled over and tried to look calm as a police officer approached and asked if she knew how fast she’d been going. Martha blinked, leaned toward Harold, and whispered, “What did he say?” Without missing a beat, Harold cupped his hands and practically shouted, “HE ASKED IF YOU KNOW HOW FAST YOU WERE GOING!” The officer raised an eyebrow, clearly amused. When the officer asked for her license, Martha turned again, confused—so Harold repeated the request just as loudly, like an overexcited announcer instead of a helpful husband.