Much to his chagrin, my husband has started up a little non-paying side business.

The Kevin Eason Shuttle is a free service for family, friends and co-workers in need of a ride to or from the airport or just across town. It runs pretty much 24 hours a day, ready on a moment’s notice.

Thursday evening, he drove to the airport to pick up Cousin Nicole, Rich and William, who were flying home after visiting Rich’s family in New Jersey.

Then yesterday after work, Kevin drove his co-worker Russ and wife Kirsten to the airport for their weekend trip to New York City.

Last night, our future former friend Greg called, stranded at Starbucks 10 miles away and in need of a ride home. Kevin went back out in to the rain to help helpless Greg.

When he returned home from that shuttle run, Kevin was dog-tired and ready to hit the couch. He headed back to our bedroom to change into comfortable clothes unload his pockets and take off his shoes and before joining the girls and me in front of the TV for the Olympics.

I didn’t hear his phone ring, but a minute later Kevin appeared in the living room, still in his uncomfortable clothes, pockets loaded, shoes on, shoulders slumped.

“Russ and Kirsten’s flight was cancelled,” he told me. “Back to the airport.” He walked out into the rain, at least able to laugh about the situation.

Fifteen minutes later, my phone rang. I didn’t recognize the number, but I answered it anyway.

“I’m 99 percent sure I left my phone in Kevin’s car,” Greg said. “Can you ask him to bring it back over?”

Needless to say, Kevin was not in the best of moods when he returned home from dropping off Russ and Kirsten, then Greg’s phone. Plus, he missed most of our Olympics Slumber Party. The girls and I had a great time.

So after three trips to the airport in two days, plus one too many trips to Starbucks, Kevin Eason’s Shuttle Service is taking a Lisa-mandated vacation for the rest of the weekend. He needs to tend to his wife, who spent most of Friday night on the couch in front of the TV, fighting off fits of side-splitting laughter every time she saw him walk back out the door and into the rain.