I hate driving. I drive because I have to. When I went to take my driver's test, it was "Pass the test, or give two weeks notice at work." I was getting married and moving to New Jersey in exactly two weeks, and if I didn't pass, I'd have no way to get to work. Since then, I have driven probably over 100,000 miles. If I didn't drive, nothing would get done -- kids wouldn't get to school or activities, or the hospital. We'd often be pretty short on groceries, too.
My husband, on the other hand, is a Driver. He will drive anywhere. He'd rather not drive in traffic (who likes to?) but he is GOOD at it. The words "Rush Hour" strike fear into my soul. He just shrugs. I am getting better, but still need half a mile to change lanes. He can size up a spot and be in it faster than I can even think "Do I want to move over?" I know a lot comes from his job (he can reverse and park a tractor trailer arrow-straight) and practice, but some people just are drivers (like him) and some are not (like me).
Today I drove through three counties picking up and delivering donations for victims of Hurricane Sandy, and turned around to go back out and follow him to the car dealership (his car needed a new part) to bring him home. I happily handed my keys over for the reverse trek, thankful he was willing to get us back home. (And he even detoured through a drive through so I didn't have to cook! Yes, he's awesome.)
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| On the road again... |
1 comment:
Yeah, that sounds familiar. Jeff likes driving, I only drive because I have to. I happily turn over the drivers seat to him when I can.
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