Whenever I drive my husband somewhere, he becomes the
backseat driver. “You’re following too close.”
“Didn’t you see that car?” “The
light is going to change, slow down.” “The
street where you want to turn is coming up.”
In order to keep my cool and not slam on the breaks, propelling him
through the windshield, I have made the decision to never operate the driver’s
side of the car when husband is the passenger.
When he drives, I’ve mentioned a few times that I thought he was going
the wrong way, and the retort is always, “Do you want to drive?” That shuts me up. (However, we did start out
for Sam’s Club one day and ended up at Costco.)
Husband has been replaced by Gladys Garmin, who sits on my
dashboard instead of the seat next to me.
Gladys is guided by the stars so she displays her god-like superiority
with every turn of the vehicle. I
recently went to a workshop about 20 miles from my home, so I decided to give
Gladys a whirl to test her abilities. I
was a little unsure about the route she had in mind, because she was giving me
the silent treatment, so I turned down I street I knew would get me to my
destination. Her grating little British
voice screeched, “Recalculating!” I’m
surprised she didn’t yell, “You bitch, I didn’t tell you to turn yet!”
There are other occasions when Gladys has reprimanded my
driving decisions. Once I missed turning
right in .4 miles, and she parroted in her computer voice like she was reciting
her ABC’s, “MAKE A U TURN! MAKE A U TURN! MAKE A U TURN!” Another time, in a strange town, I was trying
to find a Wal-Mart. Gladys and I both
saw the Super Wal-Mart on the left, yet she had the gall to tell me to turn
right. Just so she wouldn’t yell at me,
I turned right and went down a residential street where I made sure all the
doors were securely locked.
Then there’s her “A better route is available” line. Her “better route” is usually driving through
brick walls that she can’t see from her satellite perch or along the south side
of the railroad tracks, at night, in Cincinnati. No thanks; I think I’ll stick to the
Interstate.
I have finally made a decision that will lower my blood
pressure and still get me to my destination - a hula doll on my dashboard and
my dog in the passenger’s seat. They
aren’t going to tell me how to drive.
