There is something I do while driving that I don’t even realize I’m doing until I have a passenger with me who brings it to my attention.
Do I sing along with the music as loud as I can? No, thankfully for my passenger, that’s not it.
Do I fall asleep at the wheel? I’m sure I would be an excellent driver even in Sleepy Town, but no…that’s not it either.
So what is it I do?
I supply a running commentary on every other driver on the road and the (usually) inexplicable things they are doing behind the wheels of their vehicles.
For example, here are some of the things my sister heard yesterday while she rode with me to church:
“Look at this idiot. Hey buddy, it’s raining. Turn on your lights.”
“There’s someone who just got her learner’s permit. I bet she’s on her way to the dentist to have her braces removed.”
“I’m not sure where this person is from, but in their country ‘green’ must mean ‘look for something in your purse until the guy behind you honks his horn.’”
“There’s another genius with his lights off. Is there a moron convention in town? Is that where they all are going?”
“Either this guy forgot to turn off his turn signal, or his car is winking at me.”
“I could be mistaken, but I think the guy in the car in front of us is blind.”
“That car makes me sad.”
“I know I say this often, but every other driver on the road right now is a part of a mass conspiracy to drive me insane.”
I wish I was joking. I actually say these things while driving.
In all honesty, I am a nice person. I have a laid-back personality. Things really don’t rattle me. But there’s just something about being behind the wheel of a car that brings out the Mr. Cranky Pants in me.
Maybe it’s because I’m such a directionally-challenged individual — it requires me to be extra aware of my surroundings, and as a result I observe all of the stupid things people are doing around me.
Maybe it’s because, when I first began learning to drive as a teenager, I was really bad at it. I didn’t drive fast, but it’s hard to fathom how anyone could be a worse driver than I was at age 17.
Maybe that is why I’m always critiquing the bad drivers of the world. I see a little part of me when I see them. I see the careless teenager who didn’t pay attention to what he was doing, much less what anyone else on the road was doing.
Yes, maybe that’s it. Maybe that’s why I critique them.
Or maybe it’s because they’re all morons.