DRIVING MR. CRANKY
In a recent post I slipped and let it be known that Mrs. Cranky does almost all the driving in our family. There are several reasons for this. First, for a while I couldn’t see that well especially at night due to cataracts in each eye. Then often when we went out to eat I had too much wine and scotch to drive. Those problems have been addressed, but I just got used to Mrs. C driving.
In previous lives I always drove. I was just a better more experienced driver than wife #1 and I was never comfortable as a passenger. Wife #2 was an even worse driver, plus when she had an anxiety attack, which was often, she drove fast and crazy. I think she was trying to have an accident and then somehow blame it on me…don’t even ask…it is very difficult living in the land of insane.
Mrs. C is not only a good driver, but she never gets lost. She knows every road in New Jersey and has an uncanny sense of direction. I just relax and “leave the driving to her.”
The only thing I have to get used to is that Mrs. C, who is half Irish and half Italian, becomes full on Italian-attitude behind the wheel. My mild mannered sweet wife behind the wheel is a whole new person.
Everyone else on the road is an asshole.
“Look at this asshole trying to get into my lane.”
“Well I think he wants to take the exit.”
“Don’t defend him, he’s an asshole!”
“Dude move over! Asshole!”
“I think she’s an eighty year old cue tip, maybe you should cut her some slack.”
“Then she shouldn’t be on the road…MOVE OVER…asshole!”
“Did you see that idiot swerve in front of me? What an asshole”
“Well it was a BMW, so yes he is an asshole.”
My friend Scott Z. would tell me that having your wife drive should make you take two steps back on the great “Tuffy Tuffy Tuff Guy*” game board of life.
Actually I think it should allow me a free roll.