Driving Shouldn't Be A Contact Sport

 Sorry I've been away a couple of days...the job search is taking way too much time, but since I need a job to pay the bills, I will occasionally have to miss some blog time.  But I digress.....

                                                        *


I have had various observations made about my driving skill.  Perhaps skill is not the correct word.  I'll let you be the judge of what would best describe how I handle the open roads in my city.  I used to love to drive.  Back when I was a teen I couldn't wait to drive.  It represented freedom, a sign of maturity, and of course it was cool.  Now I consider it a necessity that isn't particularly fun and at times can be downright scary. 

Take a routine trip to work, back in the days I was working.  I allowed myself thirty minutes to get to work.  It usually took me fifteen to twenty minutes depending how quickly I was pushed along the road by the other drivers: you know what I mean.  If you try to go the speed limit you are suddenly subjected to all sorts of sign language and none of it nice.  Who knew how many birds accompanied drivers to work? At some point I was apparently assigned an F-150 to personally escort me each time I hit the freeway.  I swear it is so.  It is always white and either a hair's width ahead of me or behind me.  The F-150 must be afraid I might get away, so it makes sure to stay nice and close to me. Isn't that thoughtful?  I don't know what I would do if I could actually see where I was going or what was happening behind me.  That would take all the fun out of getting where I want to go.

On the rare occasions when I've managed to avoid the F-150, that doesn't mean it is smooth sailing.  The other drivers do the most interesting things: like race to get in front of you only to slow down 10 miles per hour.  Then there is the reverse: they are chugging along and I finally give up and attempt to go around and they speed up 10 miles per hour.  I'm not sure why.  As much as I hate to admit it....I have found myself doing this myself on a couple of occasions.  I know, I should know better, but, sometimes, it just happens

Every time I get in the car I tell myself to be chill and that there is no hurry.  This lasts until the person in front of me actually drives the way I had intended to.  When I see someone going, say, the speed limit or less, and there are no other cars in front of them, I ask myself WHY?  The road is wide open and this person is putting along.  I usually just go around and try really hard not to look at them in case I'm making a face.  Even slow drivers can have a gun.

The time I am most likely to drive a tad above the speed limit is on the way home from work.  By the time I have left work, I have put in somewhere around 13ish hours, have had one thirty minute break and I may or may not have had a bathroom break.  I'm not kidding.  I haven't consciously thought about these things until I start to get on the freeway.  Then it strikes me I am starving and my bladder is about to give way.  Needless to say, I put the pedal to the metal.  I've had more than one associate say they were getting on the freeway behind me and when it was their turn, I was just gone, not to be seen again.  But hey: a woman’s gotta do what a woman's gotta do.  And if I don't speed up I’d do it in the car.  That reminds me....gotta go!