The phrase, “zero to sixty” is usually reserved for the automotive industry. It typically describes how quickly a certain car can accelerate to sixty miles an hour. However, on rare occasions it can accurately illustrate how fast a man can move when awakened by his wife saying, “Honey, I’m in labor. We gotta get up and go.” I couldn’t have hopped out of bed faster if I had springs mounted on my ass. Like a bullet from a gun I was propelled into reality at break-neck speed. “Oh shit! What can I do? How are you feeling? Did your water break? Oh shit! What the fuck!?” All of those questions came racing off my tongue while running in place. If I were Fred Flinstone, there would have been a plumb of smoke peeling off my feet. We were off to the races.
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