Last night, a friend called. We’re not the best of friends, and after this morning we’re not friends at all. She needed help (why else would she call) picking up a bookshelf she had bought. For some reason I agreed to drive her, although it meant I would have to get up early and miss out on my regular Saturday morning sleepin.
I picked her up at her apartment and we were off. She starts commenting on the way I drive, when I should change lanes, how fast I’m supposed to go and whatever else she could think of. I started to get a bit pissed. She has had her license for all of one year, I’ve had mine for more than eight. I drive a lot. What more is, I’ve had the same car all these years. I don’t need to be told when to change gears, thank you very much.
We get to the store and the bookshelf is loaded. We get in the car, and I try to back out of the parkingspot. The car won’t budge. Turns out, my friend had pulled the handbrake. She says “I was taught to always pull the handbrake”. I damn near punched her in the face. We were parked on flat ground, I left the car in gear, it was not going anywhere, and she pulls my handbrake. While trying my hardest not to kill her, I say “This is the last time you ever get into my car. I will not drive you anywhere anytime in the future. If you’re so much better than me, I suggest you get your own car and drive yourself wherever you need to go. I will not do it.” You’d think that would shut her up? No. “But you are supposed to leave the car out of gear and pull the handbrake, my dad told me so.” I was so furious I almost threw her out of the car. Slowly, I say “Shut your mouth. Not a word.” I should have made her take the bus with her stupid bookshelf, but I didn’t. Instead I got a little satisfaction watching her trying to get the thing out of the car and into her apartment without my help. Not enough though, which is why I am eternally grateful to the pit.
You have alot more patience then i do Soda. I woulda left her right there in the parking lot with her damn bookshelf. No if’s and’s or but’s about it. She would have either taken the bus home or the shoe leather express.
I know… My big problem is I always think of the great ways to deal with assholes about three seconds after it’s too late. I should have left her, in fact I should have taken her home when she started bitching about my driving after two minutes. I’m such a whimp.
It’s funny, but my son (Tees) warned me yesterday not to “forget” the hand brake. I’d never heard of that as a rule. (But I learned to drive before they invented brakes; had to cling to trees to stop the quadricycle.)
The car was, like yours, on level ground.
But, since he’d spent all his driving years in San Francisco, I guess the hand brake is pretty common. It’s even put on signs as a rule on steeper streets, along with which way to toe-in your tires against the curb.
At least he didn’t set the brake FOR me.
My worst problem from the passenger seat is from my daughter ( ), who insists on commandeering the radio, cutting short my favorite songs.
We’ve had several hand-slapping fights over it at high speed, which is dangerous, and so we agreed to turn it off altogether when we can’t agree.
I always use the handbrake when I park. I was taught to and I find the motion of the car as I exit disconcerting if I do not use it. Besides, I would not remember on hills if I did not use it all the time.
That said. I would never touch the handbrake on someone elses car. I don’t usually comment on the driver’s driving unless it is my husband. I do warn the driver if I notice someonething or someone they are about to collide with. “There is a car in your blid spot!” as they try to change lanes is about the limit and doesn’t happen often.
My husband I comment a lot because I no from experience that he really does not have any sense when cars are going to cut in front of him and when I am a passenger he does lots of stupid things seemingly unknowingly. I was asleep on a road trip and I was woken but the car swerving side to side. I looked over and he is pulling the steering wheel left and right to make the cars swerve. I ask wtf he thinks he is doing and he says “I always drive like this”. I tell him he is about to fishtail and ask him to stop. He asked what He was doing wrong. I say jerking the car left and right. He looks down at his hands and seems confused. Through clenched teeth I say to steady the fucking wheel and take the next exit. His car’s steering wheel had more play in it. I still don’t understand why he would steer like that in my car.
Another time I woke when I felt sudden acceleration. A white pickup was trying to merge and he was pacing it! In a panic as we hurtle toward the white pickup i yell to slow down. He slows down and the white pickup slips in front of us and goes on his merry way having nearly run out of entrance ramp. My husband has no explanation for trying to speed up and not let that pickup on the highway. There was a wide gap in front of us and a much narrower one behind.
With anyone else, especially in someone else’s car, I just watch the pretty scenery. I think about the flowers and the houses and enjoy the ride.
), who insists on commandeering the radio, cutting short my favorite songs.