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Ron Jackson's Perspective
The Sunday Journal -
Think
Kankakee, Illinois
June 30, 2000
Women are better
drivers |
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Lately, I have had this weird
obsession. I thought I needed to go to England.
What makes it so weird is that I can think of nothing I like about the
place! Winston Churchill has never impressed me. And that
royal family with all their nepotism is just a bunch of folks with fancy
titles that don't have a real job, but still find a way to collect
handsome tax-free incomes. Some British music is acceptable. The Rolling Stones, The Beatles,
and a few other bands that made up the British invasion of the 60's are
tolerable. But please don't let them talk. They sound funny
- like people from Boston.
So, why the obsession?
Actually, I really wanted to take my wife there. Okay, honestly, I
really wanted to send her there. Not permanently, really - I
didn't! See, my wife, as are most wives, is a great driver - especially from the
right front seat. But in America, we drive from the left front
seat.
From "my" seat I merely steer, brake and accelerate. She
does the real driving from "her" seat. She can read a
book, select music or take a nap while telling me when and how to change
lanes, pass cars or "make that light."
There's always my personal favorite - "Not that one! There's a
better parking space up there."
During a recent drive it started to rain. I was planning to
wait for enough water to accumulate on the windshield so that it
wouldn't streak when I turned on the wipers. A few drops were not
going to impair my vision. Apparently "my" vision wasn't
important as she yelled at me, "Turn on the wipers. I
can't see!" "You're not driving," I mumbled
under my breath before correcting myself. "Who am I
kidding? Yes she is."
We were following a large truck and I thought I had carefully calculated
the decreasing distance between the truck and oncoming traffic as well
as their correlating speeds. As I accelerated to pass, she put
down her magazine and began pressing the imaginary gas pedal on her
side. It took all my self-control to conceal my laughter.
After we were a safe distance in front of the truck, she finally said, "OK,
you can get over now." Defiantly I drove on in the
passing lane a little longer, pretending not to hear. It was time
to draw that line again.
"You just 'had' to pass that truck, didn't you?", she
whined from "her" seat. According to my wife, we
weren't in a hurry. Well I was. I couldn't wait to get to
the store, drop her off, park the car and sleep. This little
joyride was draining me. She was asking more questions than a
driver's ed teacher.
At the store, upon her return to the car, I suggested that she be the
one to drive home. "You know I don't like to drive in this
type of weather and I don't like those one lane roads,"
she argued back. "Well you sure did a great job getting us
here. So good in fact that I'll just stay here in the 'passenger'
seat and do what it was made for - sleeping," I shot back.
It was after one too many of these adventures that I got to thinking
about England. Unfortunately, that just isn't possible.
Yet hope was not lost. It finally came to me one day as she was
driving from "her" seat again and offering her
unsolicited instructions. I immediately pulled to the curb, put
the car in park and let her have it!
"That building says
United States Post Office, right? Well I am getting you an
application and we are not going to England!", I told her in
frustration. "What are you talking about? I have a
job and what's this England stuff?", was her reply. "I know you do, but the Post Office has vehicles with the steering
wheel on the wrong side, made just for you", was my final answer.
Sunday drives are so much nicer now. |
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