On The Road Again

     In years past I have managed to hit (with the car, silly!) the right side of the garage and the left side of the garage, so today, in the spirit of equal treatment and...with the back gate of my mini-van open...I hit the top of the garage. Or, more precisely, the bottom of the garage door that was raised up to the top of the garage. We will not speak of any basketball goals that we used to have. Our driveway is a hazardous place.
     And not just our driveway. You would think you'd be safe in a church parking lot, but they had to go and put those orange cones all over the place there because, apparently, someone was parking where they weren't supposed to park.  (If you positioned your car just right you can park right on top of that NO PARKING sign they had stencilled on the black top and then nobody even knows it's there. I mean, somebody could do that if they were so inclined. I don't know who would, though.) Anyway, they put out those orange cones and right away one jumped right under my car when we were leaving church one Sunday and got stuck under there, and there was no way it would come out even after I stopped several times and tried to pull on it. It took a couple of miles of driving with this horrible scraping noise before it dislodged itself!
     I don't know how these things happen. I don't even like to drive. When I was seventeen I still had not gotten my driver's license when all around me people were chomping at the bit to rush to the DMV on the day they turned sixteen. I wasn't interested. Dennis finally talked me into taking a stab at it, and although I got a hundred percent on the written test, when I drove with the instructor he said "Have you ever driven a car before?", which I thought was pretty rude, and, surprise! I failed the driving test.
     I finally did pass though, which is a good thing because now, due to Dennis's failing eyesight, I am the primary driver. I'm still not interested, though. It's just not that much fun having to deal with all those other people on the road.They act like such babies. Like, if somebody thinks you pulled in front of them and they had to slow down a little to let you in, they don't have to make that big screeching noise with their brakes. I'm sure they do that just to let me know they are back there. And, sheesh! Coming around and flipping the bird at a little old lady should certainly merit a pretty big Time Out, if not an actual trip to the wood shed. It's not like I do these things on purpose. That's why they call it the Blind Spot, isn't it?
     And just because when I get up to a stop light, and then the turn lane is there, and I think maybe if I turn instead of go straight I will get where I'm going and out of the car sooner, so I kind of get in the other lane but there is a car there, and I have to sit sort of kinky-wampus between the two lanes until the light changes, people get so impatient! Good grief, it's not as though I did that on purpose either. If there wasn't a car in that lane I'd move up. It's like they think they are going to get through the light sooner if I'm out of the way. Well, sometimes the light does change while I'm maneuvering and they have to wait again. Or they zoom right through the yellow light! Can you imagine? I, myself, always stop for yellow lights. Even if it is kind of sudden and people do all that brake-screeching again. I certainly don't want to be the one who goes on through and the light turns red just as I get to the other side.
     Well, "You just do what you have to do," as my friend, Kevin, said yesterday when we were talking about driving. Except if any of my kids are around, I just hand them the keys and get in the back seat. It's more relaxing back there. They don't seem to mind. I think they like it better when someone besides me is driving.