It's not so much that he's a bad driver - it's that I'm a control freak. Granted, he's a tailgater (OH MY GOD - GET A FRICKING PHYSICS BOOK! ONE CAR LENGTH BETWEEN YOU AND THE CAR IN FRONT OF YOU FOR EVERY 10 MPH YOU'RE GOING!), but he's generally very aware of the surroundings, which is, as we know, the key thing about driving. That and not hitting curbs, which, to be fair, I have done twice in 12 years of driving and he has done not at all. ... Or so he claims.
Anyway, the point is: Control Freak = Me. Every time I've been in a car with him while he's driving I can't unclench my butt, both literally and figuratively. (Shall I be more elucidating? Okay: I feel like I did 30 minutes on a Stairmaster today. I did zero. Actually, I didn't exercise at all. I did eat a lot of rugelach, though. But I'm not sure that counts.) So I've got to ask myself, why not just relax? Of all the times I've driven with K, not once has anything gone awry. Why shouldn't I feel more relaxed about him driving on roads he grew up on than if I were behind the wheel? My suspicion is that this rather risible quirk is part of the same tangle that makes me want to follow all rules/laws because they are rules and laws and if you don't follow them you will get into trouble automatically, zomg. That little tangle is probably also the genesis of my pathological need to put things together using step-by-step instructions (I don't mean in a normal way - directions are well and good, but I had a dressing down about not following them for a word problem in 2nd grade and oh my god, I follow them now). And, well, we all know (at least, if We All have been reading this blog for more than five minutes) that eating disorders are Related To Control. So I suppose that's at least tangentially related to the Oh My God Follow The Rules And Let Me Be In Charge So I Can Make Sure We Follow The Rules And Don't Get In Trouble Because Getting In Trouble Is The Worst Thing In The World tangle.
Well, now that we know what's wrong, obviously I can just unclench my butt and relax.
LOL! I'm hilarious.
5 comments:
God I have the same problem when I ride with my husband. He's not a bad driver, though he does tailgate some and change lanes in questionable spaces, I still hate it and find myself pushing the invisible break. A lot.
Come with us, embrace the anarchy, you know you want to . . .
My hubby is no longer allowed to open his mouth when I'm driving, otherwise I get a running commentary (delivered at top volume) of all the accidents that could possibly have happened- but didn't.
Ha, ha! My wife sometimes clutches the dashboard and squeaks. In the 25 years we have been together I have NEVER had a prang. But she's still sure I'm about to ride a curb or something.
I never say a thing when she drives except "how about 5th gear?" occasionally.
I don't think you'd ever get a man to admit he's a bad driver.
You cannot begin to fathom what a bad driver I am. Actually, this should tell you something: I got my license when I was 16, drove for a year, then moved to New York. And never drove again. Until I was 32 and I went to law school. At which point I may as well have been 16 again. Only worse.
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