I really don’t know when it started.

I’m talking about reading road signs out loud.

My husband and I will be driving along the highway and I’ll look out my window and comment, “Armadillo Art Studios”.

He knows that I’m just thinking out loud, and that it doesn’t require a response.  A little while later, he’ll say, “Lazy Days Liquor Store”.  Same thing.

My kids, meanwhile, are in the back seat going absolutely bananas. 

“STOP IT!” they finally scream.  We both look befuddled.

“Stop what?” we ask innocently.

“Stop reading all the signs!  We do know how to read, you know.”

I can’t believe I am doing this thing that my whole life up until now I couldn’t stand when someone else in the car was doing it.  There was even a movie once where this guy’s dad always read the signs and they got into a big fight over it.  I knew just how he felt.

It’s one of those things that I thought only old (“old” being a relative term) people do, and they don’t even realize they’re doing it.  When I was a teenager and my grandmother would start reading the signs, I would get that little knot in my stomach.  I wanted to say something, but I had to hold my tongue.

Then she would do it again, and the knot would move up to my throat.  She would do it again, and my teeth would begin to clench.  She would do it again, and I would think about opening the door and just bailing out.  It was unbearable.  But then a lot of stuff is unbearable when you’re a teenager.

By the end of the trip, I would have a pillow over my head and a wild look in my eyes.  My mom would ask, “What’s wrong, dear?  You look pale.”  Parents always say you look pale.

But having people in the car who read all the signs is right up there at the top of a teenager’s list of unbearable things, along with having to listen to your parents’ music and having to be seen in public with your grandfather who wears black socks with his shorts.  Heck, being seen in public with just about anybody except your friends is unbearable.

But here I am, a sign-reader.  And I’m not even old, unless, of course, you ask my kids.  Like I said “old” is a relative term, meaning “old” is always 20 years more than the age you are.  Therefore, my kids think I’m really old, when in fact I’m quite young.

And so the generations shift.  I can’t believe my kids don’t like my music.  And who cares what color socks I wear.  I’m not trying to impress anyone.

And I can’t help reading the signs.  Besides, maybe he’s listening…

So I read the next sign out loud, “Show her you love her.  Give her a diamond.”