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photo by Sheri Dixon

Wednesday, November 20, 2013

Driving Me Insane

No, I did not learn to drive in a Flintstones car, but I've been driving a while. Thirty four years, give or take.

Yanno what makes me crazy?

Feeling something poking my foot from the inside of my sock and taking the sock off eleventy seven times to see what the hell it is- even turning the sock inside out and glaring at it from that side, feeling every inch and not finding anything, putting the sock back on and *poke* there it is again till I take off both socks and toss 'em into the hamper figuring whatever it is will make its way into someone else's socks down the drain and into the universe. That makes me crazy.

But that's not what I'm talking about here.

It makes me crazy to have someone else tell me how to drive.

It makes me INSANE to have someone not even in my goddamn car and who's not only not aware of where I'm going, but who's never seen me before and will never see me again TELL ME HOW TO FREAKING DRIVE MY CAR.

I am speaking of the 'Come on- I have evaluated the situation and you are safe to proceed now, Little Lady' motion that men make to women drivers. I have never seen a man do it to another man and I've never seen a woman do it at all. Ever.

You know what I'm talking about.

Sitting in the driveway of a parking lot and waiting to turn out into traffic there will be this guy waiting to turn in. Doesn't maatter if you're turning right (which would affect what he does exactly ZERO PERCENT) or left, this man will make sure you know when HE thinks you should be turning.

Seriously. If I'm turning right, scratch your balls or something- it doesn't matter to you when the hell I turn.

If I'm turning left, you have no idea where I'm going. Do I need to get directly into the right turn lane from the parking lot after I turn left? Where am I going? How good is the pickup of my vehicle? I fucking promise you I've taken these things into consideration. I am not just stopped there...paralyzed by fear and uncertainty...just WAITING for a BIG STRONG MAN to tell me when it's SAFE for me to turn this big honking rolling pile of possible death out into scary horribles traffic. THANK GOD YOU FINALLY GOT HERE!

And I know you're doing it out of the kind and chivalrous nature of your heart, since I know (and I'm assuming you also know) that even if I'm turning left, I have a stop sign here between the parking lot and the road, and you don't have one in the turn lane meaning you have the right of way, Good Sir. And, ummm...your ridiculous big-ass small-penis-compensating truck is obscuring my view of oncoming traffic anyway so TURN INTO THE FUCKING PARKING LOT ALREADY I HAVE PLACES TO GO.

Honestly, I have great capability (some have even called it a 'gift') towards passive aggressiveness. I know. You're shocked. Shocked and stunned. Shut up.

If there's no one behind me, I will wait out Mr. Helpful. Flat pretend not even to see him, gaze to either side of him, maybe even up into the sky for a moment or three. If I'm feeling especially prone to reinforcing his perception of female drivers, I may even pull down the mirror and apply lipstick. One time I even got out my CD case and opened it up in full view...perusing the contents and trying to decide between Aretha and the Dixie Chicks while Mr. Confederate Flag pickup was having apoplexy in the turn lane. Don't judge me.

And these guys don't even have to have, yanno...a vehicle wrapped around 'em to tell women how to drive.

Last Thursday I was coming up on a red stop light at a busy intersection. There were already several cars stopped in each lane. A man was walking across the road (six lane major road) and, there being no one behind me, I slowed down to let him cross in front of my car. Dude stopped in the lane next to me and MOTIONED ME TO COME AHEAD. Because apparently, even tho pedestrians have the right of way, (I can't even finish his thought process on this one...the light was RED, I wasn't missing anything by letting him cross in front of me. What the hell?)

Yesterday I was backing out of a parking place and a man came around to the passenger side of his truck (so between his truck and my side of my car) and MOTIONED ME TO COME AHEAD. This is a tiny lot with less than ten spaces. I could SEE the entire area, and nothing was moving except his little traffic cop director's hand.

Seriously? It's like they think we need their guidance and permission to move our vehicles because "Women drivers __________".

Here's the thing, guys.

I've been driving a long time.

I've been in four wrecks and none were my fault. Three of those wrecks were caused by men.

So, thanks for your superior judgments and all, but I think I'm good without ya'll.







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