Driving Headlong Into the New Year
Merging is a necessary driving skill that one can conceivably go an entire lifetime without learning. By "one," I mean "me." And by "an entire lifetime," I mean "my days are numbered."
I've heard rumors that the theory of stress as a trigger for ulcers has been debunked, but if it is in fact true, then The Partner is being overcome by gastric acid as he reads this. My lack of driving skills is the bane of his existence. It is at the very foundation of his puzzlement every time he looks at me. He is the speed-happy connoisseur of all things automotive; I am the Sunday-driving shorty who pushes Cadillacs into the ground.
I love to drive. Don't get me wrong. I must get in the car and roll onto the open road at least once a day or I will cross over into crazy. You would think that, with all the practice, I'd have mastered a few vehicular basics by now. But there are curbs, guard rails and store fronts all over the northeast that would prove you wrong. If it can't get out of its own way, I'll hit it.
When it comes to merging--particularly onto highways--my success rate is based purely on the fact that most other cars on my roads can, in fact, get out of their own way. . .and mine. If that was not the case, I would've been an American-made flapjack on Interstate 84 the day I got my license. I cannot explain this belief I have that any given lane is mine for the taking, but it's deeply ingrained. I am far more likely to accelerate into place and look over my shoulder as an "Oh, Shit" afterthought than to take any preventative action. I can't help but wonder if it isn't a deadly form of ADHD.
Somehow, I've made it to the cusp of 2007. I'm older, wiser and more maternal. Since I can no longer take anything lightly, I must now resolve to take action. This year, I will not drive like an idiot.
Inasmuch as biology and genetics will allow, of course.
I've heard rumors that the theory of stress as a trigger for ulcers has been debunked, but if it is in fact true, then The Partner is being overcome by gastric acid as he reads this. My lack of driving skills is the bane of his existence. It is at the very foundation of his puzzlement every time he looks at me. He is the speed-happy connoisseur of all things automotive; I am the Sunday-driving shorty who pushes Cadillacs into the ground.
I love to drive. Don't get me wrong. I must get in the car and roll onto the open road at least once a day or I will cross over into crazy. You would think that, with all the practice, I'd have mastered a few vehicular basics by now. But there are curbs, guard rails and store fronts all over the northeast that would prove you wrong. If it can't get out of its own way, I'll hit it.
When it comes to merging--particularly onto highways--my success rate is based purely on the fact that most other cars on my roads can, in fact, get out of their own way. . .and mine. If that was not the case, I would've been an American-made flapjack on Interstate 84 the day I got my license. I cannot explain this belief I have that any given lane is mine for the taking, but it's deeply ingrained. I am far more likely to accelerate into place and look over my shoulder as an "Oh, Shit" afterthought than to take any preventative action. I can't help but wonder if it isn't a deadly form of ADHD.
Somehow, I've made it to the cusp of 2007. I'm older, wiser and more maternal. Since I can no longer take anything lightly, I must now resolve to take action. This year, I will not drive like an idiot.
Inasmuch as biology and genetics will allow, of course.
One day, you and I will meet on the road, and there will be horrendous results.
ReplyDeleteI had to come back and read what I wrote, because I was being absolutely serious and you thought I was making jokes. :)
ReplyDeleteYou're welcome to stare at my boobs anytime.
Just today I was maligned by A) Mr. Chicken B) Sister Chicken and C) Brother Chicken for what they all called my "crazy driving." Hey, what can I say. I learned to drive in Boston.
ReplyDeleteSo you're the crazy lady I've seen on the highway that I've been flipping off! Who knew? (lol)
ReplyDeletei don't know - it makes me want to go sunday driving with you.
ReplyDeleteAt least now I know who I'm swearing at on 395!!
ReplyDeleteNote to self: Never accept a ride from Binky.
ReplyDeleteOkay, got it.
I've driven with Binky (more than once) and survived.
ReplyDeleteAw Binky. Apparently you and I went to the same driving school.
ReplyDeleteMy husband desperately clutches the "Oh Shit" handle everytime he has to be a passenger in my car.
I like to think I'm not a bad driver.
I'm a "fearless driver."
Every one else, they should fear me.
All I can say is that there appear to be more and more of you on the road everyday as Eastern Connecticut has gone from the occasional car or two on the road to one long steady stream of people going God knows where in some sort of blind hurry (my guess? one of the wretched casinos).
ReplyDeleteNot to sound too harsh but it's folks like you that have taken the fun out of driving for folks like me! I find that the older I get, the more susceptible to road rage I am becoming and I actually understand why people commit it now! Oh well, just another symptom of "Old Fogeyism" on my part or it could be the former police dispatcher in me!
Please stay safe - if not for yourself then for The Boss - good luck with that resolution!
yep, i learned my lesson the first time i let you drive my car in college. :) you never had to worry about being the designated driver after that because no one wanted to drive with you, lol!
ReplyDeleteJene--If I recall correctly, it is YOU who came a lot closer to getting us creamed by a semi while merging onto I-81 back when we first met. My life flashed before my eyes. So there ;)
ReplyDeleteThis is pretty funny... I'm a pretty good driver until... there is anyone in the car with me with whom I'm enjoying a conversation. Then all bets are off. I've not hit anything but I'm not likely to make any correct turns.
ReplyDeleteHappy New Year!