I was thinking about the terror of riding in the car with Mark driving, and it dawned on me, maybe that television show 'My Name Is Earl' is right. Maybe there is something called 'Karma' and I am reaping my karma every time I sit in the suicide seat next to Mark.
It goes all the way back to when I was a teenager in my dads 1967 station wagon. I don't know why, but my dad after many years of buying bland, six cylinder station wagons, decided to buy one with a big, powerful V8 engine. I was seventeen, and I loved that car. I would find any excuse to take it out for a drive. I'm sure 'big Al' wondered why he had to replace the rear tires so often. He never saw me take off in a cloud of blue smoke, tires squealing, while my little friends looked on. Yes, I was sure everyone was impressed with the pimply faced little asshole in his dads station wagon. I took chances, and I thought nothing of speeding down the roads around our town, risking mine and others lives.
My bad driving habits, and risk taking continued into adulthood. When I was in my twenties, I used to drive a taxi in Chicago, scaring the hell out of the tourists. I'd speed down Michigan Avenue like a madman with ten conventioneers crammed into my cab, and try to make all the green lights from one end of the avenue to the other, in one try. Then there was the time I took an exciting trip down a snow filled alley in Chicago at sixty miles per hour with one of my brothers riding in the car next to me. As he clung to the dashboard with a death grip, his last brown hair turned gray. It really is amazing that I have had very few accidents, and that I am even still alive.
Now that I don't drive and depend on Mark to get me around, I think karma is getting back at me. It must be karma, when Mark pulls out of the Winn-Dixie parking lot without looking and the drivers in the oncoming cars are honking at us, and giving us the finger, while I scream in terror like a little girl. Yes it must be karma, when a SUV driven by a young woman on a cell phone, almost runs us over and Mark doesn't even notice.
No arguments from me. I've had the unpleasant experience of driving with both of you.
ReplyDeleteJust don't drive with Fat Kitty in the car. There would be so much screaming by everyone in the car.
ReplyDeleteHEY!!!! HOW DID YOU GET YOUR LICENSE AT 17!!!!! THEY MADE ME WAIT UNTIL I WAS 19....GEEZ, I WAS WAY TOO PASSIVE A TEEN!!!! Or maybe it proves that I am younger than you..................
ReplyDeletePeggy @ Not that I want to piss you off, but I actually got my license at 16, and was driving around with my friends at 15 on my learners permit (I had one friend who was old enough to have a license).
ReplyDeleteI thought I was the only one to put the 67 wagon through hell.I put it in a 360 degree spin on a rain swept Sunday when I was at "church" with my friends.I can still see the looks on the faces of the other drivers , the telephone polls, signs, faces,poles,signs,faces and the laughter from my friends.Did Dad know why his car was steaming when I pulled up the driveway after driving it only a few blocks?Peg, I was barely 16 when I did that.Oh and I got a speeding ticket in that car going over 100mph down
ReplyDelete80th ave.Madonna didn't get her license until she was 18.
I now carry my Safe Drivers Certificate in my wallet.
Too bad Dad is not alive to see that they should not have worried about "one-eyed" ME being a bad driver!! The boys were always the worst! I got my first ticket at 34 y.o. (Lombard speed liars) with 2 little kids in the car. Hey, remember when Dad got a ticket with us in the car? It was the first time I heard the phrase, "getting pinched" when the cops lights went on...........
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