Setting The Record Straight

In response to my dear, loving wife's horrible mischaracterization of my actions that fateful night, I would like to point out that:

A) Being a notorious acrophobic, driving across mountain ranges at night particularly sucks;

B) Even if it later became flat (it really, really didn't--apparently, there is a flat route, but she took me through the mountainous winding route), because it was PITCH BLACK, I couldn't see that it had become flat;

C) All night, even though I was going the speed limit, I had idiots tailgating me, with their brights on;

D) Dear Wife was spouting such gems as "huh. This town isn't on the map," "Why are there 2 route 89's?", "turn left here...no wait! Right! No wait, Left! Crap, just go straight" and "I have no idea where we are";

E) Even though I was going said speed limit, the night was forever colored when 2 cows just appeared on the road ahead of us. We had about 50 feet of warning, or, the distance our bright lights extended, because there was no other light, at all, in any way, to see by. There was much screaming, a screeching of the brakes, and a short stop only 3 feet away from the cows, who blinked, chewed some cud, and then trotted off. This colored the rest of the night, because now, not only did I have to worry about heights, tailgaters, pitch blackness, and a navigatrix who was saying things right out of a horror movie before the two kids arrive at a deserted cabin to be horribly murdered, I now had to worry about random large bovines appearing magically in front of me on a deserted road.

So, yes, I was freaking out. So sue me.