Did I ask for a co-pilot? I think not.

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I’m a good driver.

Of course, everyone thinks they are a good driver, but I really am. And I have the numbers to back it up too. In my 30-some years of driving I have had only one accident and two traffic citations. Not bad, eh? So, I am pretty confident that I know how to not only drive well, but to drive safely.

Somehow this fact is lost on the boyfriend. The minute he gets into my passenger seat, he starts directing me as if I were his teenage daughter. “You don’t need to stop for those pedestrians, they’re not in the crosswalk”; “hurry up, the light has turned yellow”; “why aren’t you turning on your brights?”; “you need to downshift” and on and on and on. It is incredibly annoying. Yet, that is the price I am willing to pay in order to do the driving when we go on a road trip. I don’t like the way he drives, particularly on curvy mountain roads, so it is much more relaxing for me to do all the driving despite his nagging than it is to white knuckle it when he is driving.

_____________________________________________________

There was a point to this post when I started writing it Thursday night in our cheap motel in Ukiah, California. Just letting off steam, I guess. Really, he got better over the course of the trip and we were finally able to laugh about it. But, I never did let him take the wheel. I suppose this is what happens to two people with control issues collide.

Anyway, I hope to get back to my blog again soon. I guess I am getting old. Disruptions in my routine, whether good or bad, seem to send me into a bit of a swirl. But, today was my first day back at the ol’ grind, so hopefully, I can get back to stumbling on a more frequent basis.

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16 responses »

  1. tpgodess – Good that you can turn over the wheel and still relax. My problem is that it is more tense to let him drive since I feel compelled to keep my eyes peeled on the road to make sure he doesn’t kill us. But, then again, I’m one of those people who can’t sleep on planes, lest they fall out of the air.

    Stevo – Nice of you to say, but trust me, I ain’t no saint. In fact, when he starts nagging like that, I start to exaggerate the behaviors that get under his skin. I start stopping for yellow lights that normally I would run, waiting for pedestrians to cross who are merely standing on the street thinking about crossing, etc. Eventually, he figures out the nagging is counter-productive.

    Ron – Yeah, aren’t relationships grand?

  2. you’re driving record astounds me. I actually said, “wow” out loud.

    hee hee… and it’s funny how we get to know the people we read most. When Stevo said something about your kind nature I kinda giggled inside.

    πŸ™‚ kidding! love you LB! You’re a saint in my book. Of course this is coming from a guy who almost qualifies for the 2nd and 8th level of hell.

  3. On the issue of driving ad co-pilots, I drive most of the time because I drive the wife nuts when I’m stuck in the passenger seat. I am a horrible nag about the speed, cornering, passing, you name it I complain about it. So we have a sort of unspoken agreement that I drive most of the time.

    Honestly, I don’t know how she puts up with me.

  4. When I was first married, a long time ago, I used to cringe at my wife’s driving. She challenged me on it, and I realized I was simply projecting – and if you look at your co-pilot’s behavior you’ll see there’s a passive-aggressive aspect to this too.

    So I would sit in the passenger seat and deliberately keep my eyes closed: it taught me to relax and trust another’s authentic presence in reality; and it showed me clearly the projections I was locked into.

    The exercise – which I still use today with some other people – was better than meditation for pointing out my ego’s pathetic fear of rivalry.

  5. I’ve learned to be a (fairly) placid passenger when my daughter drives (she IS also an excellent driver), though she gets hugely peeved with me when I <> over the threat that other drivers around us pose. I scare her, she says. And now she finds herself <> over some things and blames me for THAT trait. Hee hee!

    She likes me to drive when we have to go somewhere that has to be figured out (she does not “do” maps or directions well). Since she is then in the back seat with my mother as the co-pilot, and she insists on sitting forward to engage with us, she accuses me of giving her bruises every time I have to brake.

    It doesn’t have to be a boyfriend to be yin-yang trip buddies!

    Shu

  6. honey you need to downshift ~ eye said DowNShifT – that’s it . . . nice now – letter roll in neutral abit – add a touch of brake – now SLAM IT into 2 Gear And Hit The Gas WooooHooooo , , ,
    this is what happens to two people with control issues collide = doent fourget the lube

  7. On this issue of you being in Ukiah and not coming to visit us . . .what the hell????? Ok, honestly I wouldn’t come visit us either.

  8. Jules – Congratulations! “Wow” was the appropriate response. I’ll have to come up with some sort of prize for you . . . since we’re hand twins, maybe a glove?

    Adam – You do realize you married a saint, don’t you?

    SacredWest – That’s really wonderful advice, thank you. I may give that a try.

    Shu – Yes, I believe driving and preferred room temperature are two key indicators as to the closeness of any pairing. The farther apart you are on those indicators, the closer you probably are in life.

    Monkees – I am not into making my point with physical violence, but rather with sarcasm which, I suppose, is verbal violence.

    Janine – We didn’t venture as far north as y’all. It was tempting, but we didn’t have the time. But, if we do, I’ll give you some advance notice. πŸ™‚

    ybonesy – I don’t tend to give advice when he drives, I just keep a tight grasp on the “oh shit” handle and dramatically over-react whenever possible.

    Kangaroos – it is the sound of kangaroos crying.

  9. eye bin weighting fur yearz to hear them sweet werdz ~ thanks fur caring.

    kangroo tearz ~ the original aboriginal afro deezyack

    all most as good as second hand fur balls!

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