One of my least favorite things to do is drive. I hate driving. I’m a good driver – probably a bit on the slow, overly-cautious side (with the exception of the one day I had a lead-foot and got pulled over – but, as it’s important to note: I did NOT get a ticket), but nevertheless, I’ve never got into an accident (my fault or otherwise). Knock wood.
My mother, on the other hand, has a serial lead foot problem. A pretty severe tailgating, slam-on-the-brake-two-inches-from-their-bumper problem. A hit every deer in a ten mile radius problem.
So, you would think that driving, with my mom as a passenger would be fine – as she really has no room to judge.
You would be wrong.
Today, we loaded up the girls and went to Old Navy for their baby sale (Got Pumpkin’s Halloween costume – she’s going to be a purple dragon – and two pair of pants for The Princess who is all of the sudden way to tall for her 4Ts). After Old Navy and lunch, we took a quick jaunt to Costco, and as we were leaving, it was a chaotic mess of stopping and starting, as the parking lot was full. Many people were coming and going, without paying attention – it was busy, and it was a bit tedious trying to get back to the road to head home.
At one point, I had to brake because a car suddenly turned (too wide) down the aisle I was driving up. I looked over at mom and she had the white-knuckle-death-grip on the door handle. “You make me SO NERVOUS!” she said.
That really irked me. “How many accidents have you been in, Mom?” I asked.
“Only one that was my fault,” she replied.
“That’s one more than me (knock wood!), so I have a better track record than you.”
“Hmmmmph. You’ve just been lucky.” Argggggggggggggggggggggggh! “Why don’t you turn here?” I continued driving the road I always take to get home. “Or not.”
Something extremely grating about having someone tell me how to drive that really pushes my buttons. If I was such a horrible driver, I’m sure I’d know it by now (with evidence of speeding tickets, squashed cars, and Hubby not allowing me to take the children anywhere). As it is, I’m guilty of driving a bit like Grandma Moses, and getting a touch of road rage. Sue me.
Note:We got home safe and sound. Even mom. She must just be lucky.
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