Just a quick Question: I went out with my wife for a little begining of the summer date at our favorite restaurant, and on the way there she drove. She was flying! 80+ MPH, like it was nothing! I drive a chevy Avalanche, I do not go 80 anything, as I like to not drain the tank too quickly.
She drives a Mercedes 300 series. It’s a quick car…
Anyway, I opened my mouth to her when she was speeding away, and commented on how she may want to slow down, we were in NO rush…
She snapped some comment back to the tune of, Don’t tell me how to drive! etc…etc…
She had a rough day, I knew it…but still no need to snap at me…
Anyway, dinner was great, and I drove home. I soon found myself in a litany of jabs, snaps, and quips about how I was driving too fast, getting too close to peoples rear ends, and generally driving like a schmuck! :eek: :smack:
I tried to tell her she had driven in much the same manner, worse even. [with the benefit of hindsight, I should have left the past part out…]
And she insisted I was wrong and a little spat turned into no talking for the rest of the trip…
Q: Ladies, have you ever been accused of this scenerio? If so I do not want to ask who is right rather I would like to hear from people whom this has happened too, even if the scenerio is reversed…Maybe some funny anecdotes and explinations…
No, I don’t do the things I nag at him about, because those things make me nervous. He has this nerve-wracking habit of zooming right up to someone’s ass and then slamming the brakes. Scares the ever-loving shit out of me, as I’ve bounced off one windshield and have no desire to ever repeat the experience. Yes, I nag him about it. No, I generally do NOT pull that maneuver myself unless I’ve misjudged the distance. Like I said, it scares the shit out of me. (He tries not to do that when I’m in the car, and I try not to gasp, clutch my chest, and stomp at the brake pedal that isn’t there, but sometimes we both have less success than other times.)
My wife doen not drive like a maniac. It does not matter what the speedometer says. It does not matter that we’re three feet from the bumper of the guy in front of us.
She does not drive like a maniac.
That being said, I’m sure I don’t drive like one either.
Your question presumes I allow him to drive my car at all.
Anyway, there are times I wish he drove like me, to the point where I woudl like to be like the baddies are in the movies, when they reach over with their foot and mash the driver’s foot to the floor…er…said too much, I think.
Cowboy’s a much better driver than I am, anyway; comes from years of driving big rigs and pulling trailers. He kindly does not comment on my driving, but if I see his brake foot sneak down to the floor involuntarily, I’ll check what I’m doing.
He does give me active advice when I’m pulling a trailer, but then, I’ve asked for that. It’s the unsolicited, if well-meaning, criticism/advice that would yank my chain.
There is no his car/my car. They are both ours and we take whichever suits our purposes. Usually we take the van as it has the car seats in it.
When he commuted into Boston every day his driving scared me but he’s mellowed since he hasn’t had that drive in years. When he drives with us he knows precious cargo is on board and doesn’t drive too fast/zany.
I’ll answer calmly. My husband is an adult and therefore it is not my place to ALLOW or DISALLOW him to do anything.
That being said, he’s a terrible passenger. He’s a nerd driver, hands at ten and two, three car spaces behind, turn signal on 100 yards before the turn.
When I drive he’s gripping the walls and using the ‘imaginary brake pedal’ that he’s developed on the passenger side of the car.
My S.O. should drive like me. I am quite excellent; in my 25 years of driving having caused one fender-bender at age 16 and two speeding tickets for going 7 and 12 miles an hour over the speed limit. I am considerate and careful. I enjoy driving and have driven thousands and thousands more miles than my S.O. He doesn’t enjoy driving as much as I do. We most often take my reliable little Cavalier even zipping around town. It’s an automatic! We don’t often bicker about anything and are not critical and he is certainly not a bad driver. I had a friend that I insisted take me home after half an hour on the highway with him. I figured a wated hour of my life was better than dying in a firey crash at any minute. He would drift through inattention…
Missus Jockey is in a perpetual state of panic every time I have the key in my hand. The aforementioned chest clutching, gasping and imaginary brake pedal mashing are static procedure in the Jockeymobile. It’s the unintelligible screeching and the flailing of the hands and arms that can put a fella off his chow.
That said, she’s a nervous wreck, because she has poor eyesight and knows she’s a horrid driver (she’s a woman, of couse she’s bad, her words, not mine, honestly) though she can parallel park like no one else.
I on the other hand am a trained emergency vehicle operator. I’ve driven everything from semis to airport crash trucks, fire engines to squad cars, race cars to sedans. I’m familiar with the idiosyncratic nature of the manipulation of motor vehicles at most speeds (over 220 mph isn’t my forte). I know enough not to put too much trust in my equipment, and always leave myself an out.
Most importantly though, I know how to crash.
Knowing how to come through a crash with minimal personal injury is, IMO the most important thing that any driver can learn.
Despite all that, I think it’ll be years before I can get her hand print out of my leg tissue.
My husband comments on my driving all of the time. He sits there and tells me to slow down (I rarely go more than 5 over the speed limit) or yelps “watch out!”, grips the handle/armrest part on the door, flinches etc. It is both hillarious and annoying at the same time. I figure he thinks I am going too fast becase my car sits lower to the ground than his does (Honda Civic vs Toyota Tacoma 4X4). But, when he drives, I feel like I am going to have an aneurism, I get so freaked out- but I rarely comment.
She drives too close to the cars in front of her, and doesn’t pay enough attention to her overall environment. (According to me) I drive too fast and change lanes too often. (According to her)
I was going to comment on how I don’t “allow” (or not) Mr. Del to do anything. We don’t really frame our relationship in terms of “allowing” the other person to do stuff.
However, I think I have to back off just a smidge on that one, because there is one thing that I do not, for lack of a better word, allow – if it’s snowing, he’s not driving. He learned to drive in Texas, I learned to drive in Buffalo, New York. Therefore, I’m doing the snow driving.
I should also point out that we live in NYC and therefore don’t drive very often, mostly while on vacation. If we lived somewhere where it snowed frequently and we drove every day, I’m sure he’d adjust to driving in snow and this would cease to be an issue.
Mrs. Bug is a very nervous passenger, probably because she has control issues. On some trips, she makes sarcastic comments about how I drive “like an old man.” On other trips, I’m operating my vehicle “like a race car.”
You see, in the former circumstances, I am in no hurry, and thus drive sedately, observing the speed limits.
On the latter occasions, I am attempting to make the best time possible, and therefore will drive fast and pass often. (I still do not drive like a maniac… I wait for proper opportunities to pass, and then take them.)
However, she has been in the passenger seat in more than one instance where I’m sure she would have experienced a collision, but my defensive driving habits allowed me an “out” and my reflexes gave me the quickness to use them.
One thing I am pleased with, however, is her habit of cursing at other drivers for me. When someone else on the road does something stupid, she’s the one gesturing and hollering at the idiots.
Only once have I commented on Mrs. Bug’s driving, and that was when we first met. I suggested that she waits too late to brake for traffic ahead of her, and therefore brakes too hard when approaching stopped traffic ahead.
Two weeks later, she rear-ended my car while following me, doing significant body damage.
well, Bubba knows if I had my choice I’d drive 100mph all the time. For us, it works like this: if we’re in my car, I drive, he keeps quiet. His car, he drives, I keep quiet except when he’s about to run a red light or rear end someone.
Outside of the car I have told him I don’t like the way he drives and we joke about it. FWIW, I have the better driving record of the two of us.
