driving

I am not much of a morning person. It's been a grumpy morning.

I don't know what it is, but every time I get behind the wheel with Belinda at my side, we get into a huge fight. Every time.

Take this morning, for instance. Belinda wants to drive because she didn't get much sleep last night and doesn't have the energy to walk or the patience for the subway. I didn't want to drive, but fine, I can understand that. "Belinda, why don't you take the car, I need to stop off at the market, it's easier if I take the train." "No, I want to go with you."

20 minutes later, we're driving down a two-lane city street and I'm about two cars behind a tow truck. The tow truck is going slow because it's towing someone, go figure. For once, Belinda and I are actually early on our morning trek to work thanks to the car. I'm not in a rush; I'm actually driving like a sane person. All I have to do this morning is go to the store (need to pick up one item for my job), drop Belinda off, and park. No sweat, a nice relaxed morning for once.

I can hear the huffing and puffing of impatience coming from the passenger seat.

"What's wrong?"
"Are you just going to just stay behind this guy?"
"Um, what do you want me to do?"
"I don't know, try going around him?" [Heavy on the attitude here]
"Um, ok, what's the difference?"
"We have to hurry! It's 8:30 and I'm going to be late!"
"Belinda, we aren't going to be late. If you want, I will drop you off at work before I run my errand, OK?"
"No."
"OK, you have two choices. You can either keep your mouth shut and let me drive, or you can drive. Why is it that you don't ever drive? Is it because if you drove, you wouldn't be able to order me around?"

Ah, hindsight...

I really wish I hadn't said that last bit. Too late though, it was out there. This is pretty much the conversation every time we drive. In my defense, I can say that she really never wants to drive. But she is constantly telling me how I'm doing it all wrong.

I am going the wrong way.
I am going too fast.
I am going too slow.
I parked the car wrong.
I parked in the wrong spot.
I parked too close.
I parked too far.
I am shifting wrong.
I am revving the engine too slow.
I am revving the engine too fast.
"Are you paying attention? "
"Why are you in this lane?"
I am scaring her.
I am too close to the line.
"What are you waiting for?"
"You went too soon!"
"You are reckless."
"Oh God!"
"You are making me sick."
And my personal favorite, "I just don't understand."

I used to love driving. I grew up the suburbs and driving was my key to freedom from my parents. When I became of age, I was at the DMV on my birthday getting my license. Even as an adult I used to feel a little bit of that same feeling every time I drove. But no more.

I have tried to encourage her to drive more. I have asked her to drive. I have tried handing her the keys. I have even feigned illness to get her behind the wheel. More often than not, she wants me to drive. Why?!?

She does drive occasionally, and I have to say that I absolutely hate how she drives.