He and She were driving down scenic roads (the signs said so) on Hawai‘i Island, He in search of plants to study, She in search of plants to photograph. Part of what made these roads so scenic was their profusion of diamond-shaped yellow signs, most of them announcing that They were approaching a “One Lane Road” or “One Lane Bridge”:
He: “Does scenery always have to be so narrow-minded?”
She: “Narrow-sided, anyway. I guess.”
He: “Whatever. But if they’re going to have all these one lanes, they may as well name ’em. Like – geez Louise what a squeeze – this one.”
He and She together: “Lois!”
He: “Now that, love, was super.”
She: “But of course, dear. Nathan!”
He: “Fast!”
She: “On this road? Are you kidding? Slow, if ever there was one.”
He: “How ’bout a sloe gin? This keeps up, I might need one.”
She: “Stay thirsty. Bryant!”
He: “Bryant Lane? I know a Bryant Gumbel …”
She: “Lane Bryant.”
He: “Uh uh. I am not going to try to drive backwards on this road, any more than I’m going to find a fancy clothing store on this skinny trail through the woods.”
She: “Chicken.”
He: “BucbucbucbuDAAAK!”
She: “P!”
He: “Now?!?”
She: “Not that! Just P.”
He: “P lane …? Oh good grief! That’s a Lane Violation if ever I heard one!”
She: “So you’re going on strike?”
He: “No, I’m going to strike!”
She: “What? Where?”
He: “On my Ten-pin Lane!”
She: “Right. You’re just trying to bowl me over, aren’t you?”
