Women Drivers
Posted: Sun Jan 09, 2011 6:04 pm
My truck, like clockwork, decided today would be a day it wouldn't start for me. Consequently I had to call my mom and ask her for a ride to work. She arrived later than I expected and got us on the road with fifteen minutes to get there, a drive that usually takes me 25-30 minutes. What follows is a conversation I had with her while she took her sweet time on the highway.
A guy behind us switches lanes just as my mom blindly slides into the same lane, almost hitting the guy. He honked loudly, quickly swerved into the next lane, and blasted past us.
"Oh you watch your freaking self!! Stupid a$$! Gaw!!"
I bit my lip. I knew it wasn't his fault. He was going sixty-five or so, the speed limit, and she was trudging along at forty. Had we been going the same speed, our switching of lanes wouldn't have been so jarring.
"I swear, some of these dumba$$es are gonna cause a wreck, they're going too damn fast."
"You're going forty in a sixty-five, mom."
"I don't care, this is how I drive. They'll have to deal with it."
"They are. They're swerving past you."
"You're really pissing me off today."
I didn't really know how to respond that. Explaining logic to a middle-aged woman usually doesn't work the way you want it to, and I guess I should've known. It was like explaining to a child not to put a butterknife in a power outlet because he'll get shocked, but he does it anyway, gets shocked, and is suddenly mad at you for some reason. I tried to hide a growing smile.
"And look at that guy! Big truck parked on the side of the road. I swear, he's going to kill someone."
The driver had popped his hood and was staring at his engine.
"He's on the shoulder with his flashers on. Maybe his truck broke down. Not much you can do when that happens."
"He could at least have tried to push it off the highway, there's a gas station down the street."
"My truck's broke down on the side of the road before. I couldn't push fifteen hundred pounds off the highway."
"Yeah you could. Once you get it rolling it'll keep moving."
"Even if I did, the exit is sloped downward. I'd have to run and jump in the driver's seat after I got it moving, and that'd be kind of hard. And dangerous."
"Yeah well this guy's truck is too big, someone might- he just poured a bottle of water on his engine! He just wasted a perfectly good bottle of water! There are poor people wandering our streets and they'd kill to get a bottle of water. What a wasteful a$$hole."
"Maybe it overheated. My older truck did that before. Pouring water on it helps to cool it off."
"Ok, Mr. Mechanic. You know everything. I swear, you and your brother just don't respect me like you should."
I remained quiet until she changed the subject to something less complicated. When she pulls the "respect" card, even if I'm clearly not being disrespectful, I know she's getting pissed.
I got to work twenty minutes late.
A guy behind us switches lanes just as my mom blindly slides into the same lane, almost hitting the guy. He honked loudly, quickly swerved into the next lane, and blasted past us.
"Oh you watch your freaking self!! Stupid a$$! Gaw!!"
I bit my lip. I knew it wasn't his fault. He was going sixty-five or so, the speed limit, and she was trudging along at forty. Had we been going the same speed, our switching of lanes wouldn't have been so jarring.
"I swear, some of these dumba$$es are gonna cause a wreck, they're going too damn fast."
"You're going forty in a sixty-five, mom."
"I don't care, this is how I drive. They'll have to deal with it."
"They are. They're swerving past you."
"You're really pissing me off today."
I didn't really know how to respond that. Explaining logic to a middle-aged woman usually doesn't work the way you want it to, and I guess I should've known. It was like explaining to a child not to put a butterknife in a power outlet because he'll get shocked, but he does it anyway, gets shocked, and is suddenly mad at you for some reason. I tried to hide a growing smile.
"And look at that guy! Big truck parked on the side of the road. I swear, he's going to kill someone."
The driver had popped his hood and was staring at his engine.
"He's on the shoulder with his flashers on. Maybe his truck broke down. Not much you can do when that happens."
"He could at least have tried to push it off the highway, there's a gas station down the street."
"My truck's broke down on the side of the road before. I couldn't push fifteen hundred pounds off the highway."
"Yeah you could. Once you get it rolling it'll keep moving."
"Even if I did, the exit is sloped downward. I'd have to run and jump in the driver's seat after I got it moving, and that'd be kind of hard. And dangerous."
"Yeah well this guy's truck is too big, someone might- he just poured a bottle of water on his engine! He just wasted a perfectly good bottle of water! There are poor people wandering our streets and they'd kill to get a bottle of water. What a wasteful a$$hole."
"Maybe it overheated. My older truck did that before. Pouring water on it helps to cool it off."
"Ok, Mr. Mechanic. You know everything. I swear, you and your brother just don't respect me like you should."
I remained quiet until she changed the subject to something less complicated. When she pulls the "respect" card, even if I'm clearly not being disrespectful, I know she's getting pissed.
I got to work twenty minutes late.
