I have admitted to many a flaw in this blog (not all of them—I’m not crazy), and one of them is my, shall we say, tendency to drive a tad fast. You can read about my racing the family mini-van here.
I try to slow down when I have passengers, but apparently I am still scaring the daylights out of them because
1. My closest friends refuse to drive with me.
2. I gave these same friends crash helmets, as a joke, and they thought I was serious.
3. People stare at me when I say a place is 20 minutes away and they all think it’s 30.
4. When Nicole and a junior high friend were in the back seat a few years ago, the friend said, “Doesn’t this scare you?” and Nicole said, “Nah, I’m used to it.”
5. This same daughter has told me I drive like Cruella DeVil.
I tried to find an outlet for my problem. Let me rephrase that. I tried to find a venue for my talents, but it turns out ambulance drivers have to be trained medical people as well. Why they have to multi-task like that is beyond me.
The other day St. Bob and I went out to lunch. I pulled brilliantly into a parking spot (hey, if you don’t like screeching, don’t buy screechy tires) and Bob said, “I should drive so we stay alive. Hey, that rhymes. That’s our new motto.”
“That is not our new motto,” I said.
“Yes it is. I should drive so we stay alive.”
“Repeating it does not make it our new motto.”
“Rhyming does.” He was grinning, now.
“I should drive so we get there on time. It doesn’t matter if this doesn’t rhyme. There.”
We both ordered coconut cream pie, and believe me: We got it at least ten minutes sooner than we would have, had I not been driving.
Even my Youtube Mom videos are time efficient, folks—most of them run less than a minute. Check ‘em out here.