Tuesday, August 09, 2011

Directional Disagreement.

Just so you know, I've lived in the same town for almost 25 years. As such, I've driven almost every road around here at least twice - possibly even sober both times.

So no matter where I'm headed, I know at least two or sometimes three ways to get there - the quick route, the scenic route, and the route to take to avoid possible roadblocks.

This is usually a bonus, except when I'm driving with my Wife.

You see, she has lived in this town longer than I have, and we've had our licenses for about the same amount of time - meaning she has just as much experience on the roads around here as I do. For some reason, whenever I'm in the passenger seat, I seem to forget that fact.

It's not that I'm a backseat driver - I don't tell her where to go - what I tend to do is question why she took a particular route to get wherever we are going. (That's different, right?)

Whatever way she chooses to take to somewhere, I'm always able to point out a couple of ways that I think would have been better - maybe better is a bad word - just ways that would have saved us time & gas. (Who needs to save those?)

In a perfect world, my lips and vocal chords would stop working the minute I sat on the right side of the car. Unfortunately, this is not a perfect world.

At first, we used to have "discussions" about the path she chose to take - I have to consider myself lucky that by now she just ignores me.

I think today was finally the day that I learned my lesson. After being stuck behind some slow moving asshole for about 10 minutes the Wife decided to take a different way home. As she pulled off the highway, she passed the road that would have had us home in about 5 minutes - I turned to her, she looked at me, and I just said "What a douche that guy was, eh?"

I should get a fucking medal. (and it should probably be mouth-shaped, to cover the hole that gets me in the most trouble.)


No comments:

Post a Comment