I am not a fan of practical driving.

Stick me in my car with the moonroof open and the windows down, music blasting, my foot on the gas, ALONE (“I can pretend I’m single and childless?”), and with time on my hands, and I’m A-Okay.  I’m a regular super-silly slap-happy bitch at that point, oh yes.

But everyday driving?  Can suketh my ballseth.

(Okay, technically I don’t have balls, but I really like to say stuff like that, so let’s just let that slide, alright?  Oh, and while we’re on the subject, I also tell people to suck my dick, but that’s different, because I really have one.  And it’s bigger than yours.  Just sayin.’)

This disdain for humdrum driving has not always been in my nature.  ANY kind of driving when I was a teenager was like winning the Gee-Golly Lottery.  To the bank, store, work, school, whatever – I was THERE.  It was ON.  From age 14 on, I would have driven over to the mailbox to get the mail if I had been allowed to do that.  Hell, I might have even taken a daily beating to be allowed to drive myself to school.

Same thing works with a teenager.

So just what has happened in the past * cougheighteenishcough * years to change the way I feel?  I don’t think I’m the only one out there who has experienced this, either.  So... when did it start happening?

It’s probably a slow process... so slow that you don’t realize it as it occurs.  From day to day, as you flip off the jackasses who cut you off in traffic, come up with colorful new cusswords to yell out your window, and rant about the imbecilic morons who dare to share the road with you, driving somehow becomes less of a fun game than it used to be.  In fact, it morphs into more of a journey during which you try not to let the drive become a hunt to bring death to all those who do not drive the way you would like them to drive.  For me, quite frankly, this would be the majority of people who own and use a car.

My father taught me the basics, really.  Start off the drive in good spirits, but as soon as you are anywhere near other people, get really pissed off at every little thing they do wrong.  Say things like, “dumb fuck” and “cocksucker” a lot.  Make sure everyone knows that your greatest desire in life is a car equipped with heat-seeking missiles.  (See, he’s done discriminating between the morons and those who might actually know what they’re doing.  If you’re in a car on the road near him, he just wants you to die, so he can entirely avoid any chance that you may piss him off.)

True to my training, I usually start off any drive in good spirits.  Unfortunately, however, it never fails that another human being operating a motor vehicle in close proximity to me will ruffle my feathers.  And I’ll admit that I tend to be the type that... well... is “right” all the time.  But in this case, I’m just asking for simple things.  Like, how about if you don’t give me the finger because I almost hit you when you pulled out into traffic right in front of me while I was going 55+MPH?  I’m sorry my car can’t levitate.  Yes, I know I should have purchased more than just the standard package, but something tells me “flying” wasn’t in the extras, either. 

Here’s another lofty request: maybe even know how to use your turn signal.  It’s the little thingy to the side of your steering wheel (that big, round thingy you keep jerking around while you drive too damn fast).  Flip it in one direction or the other to let people know you’re going to turn, you asshat.  I’m sorry the rest of us have not developed ESP yet. There is no other way we will know what your directional intentions are.  But it’s really very rude of you to expect evolution on such a grand scale in us when you haven’t even figured out how to communicate with others while driving in the appropriate, accepted manner.  USE YOUR DAMN TURN SIGNAL, IN OTHER WORDS.  It’s not there as a cool interior design element.  It actually has a purpose! 

Figuring out how to behave at a 2, 3, or 4-way stop sign area would be a bonus, too.  In fact, if you have to think about who rightfully “goes” next for more than 3 seconds, you are banned from approaching any road that has a stop sign on it, ever again.  Just get used to ordering online and eating delivery, okay?

Honestly, I don’t think I’ll ever be really happy until I’m the one who has the sole say in who does and does not get to drive a car.  Simple things like: “Oh, you don’t know what to do at a freakin’ stop sign?  Yeah... LICENSE AND VEHICLE REVOKED.”

(Unfortunately, I recently discovered this means that my husband will no longer be allowed to operate a motor vehicle according to my guidelines.  Damn.  That’s going to make things harder on me.)

Of course, there is an element to The Driving Annoyance that has nothing to do with all the Brain-Dead vehicle operators out there, and is just purely the result of repetition of a behavior of necessity.  Anything that you do over and over again with no real exciting change is bound to start losing its luster, to start being a bit less thrilling than it once may have been.

Ask any couple who’s been married for some time.  If you know what I mean.

Just as some people swear that, uh, new “props” can enhance other unnamed activities, so would they add back a spark to driving.  For example, if someone decided to hand me a brand new BMW, I’d have to say that the drive to the post office would be a thing of beauty again.  But somehow, I don’t think that’s going to happen.  Me and the 98 Civic are bound together by the tight ropes of  “oh hell no, I don’t have enough money for a new car.”

And all of you lucky bastards with those cool navigational systems that tell you how to get somewhere?  I am so jealous.  Take it from someone who gets lost just thinking about driving somewhere new - having one of those would REALLY take some stress off the journey.  Incidentally, don’t ever trust MapQuest.  It only took one time getting directed incorrectly for me to learn that lesson.  When you’re on your way to a job interview, you’d really rather not end up, instead, on the side of town where a pimp winks at you and prostitutes are flashing their thigh meat in your direction.  Unless, you know, you’re looking to work that side of town yourself, and the pimp IS your interview.  I was in grad school, but I wasn’t that desperate, yet.

But in speaking of material possessions that might alleviate my road rage and disdain for driving, the things my mind keeps returning to are things that might make my newest driving challenge less daunting.

Are you childless and hate driving?  As they say, baby, you ain’t seen nuthin yet.

Having a small human in the back seat of your car will magnify ALL other annoyances by an infinite, as yet unqualified number.  Here, let me try to illustrate this for you in another, more forceful way: Imagine the annoyance of driving as being repeatedly poked in the eye.  Now imagine being repeatedly poked in the eye while having a tree branch shoved up your ass and a wailing siren inserted into your ear canal.  That’s what it’s like to drive with a child in the car.

Sure, sometimes they “behave.”  It’s just to throw you off your game so that next time, you’re that much more vulnerable.  The status quo is on and off screaming, crying, fussing, whining, throwing toys/drinks/pacifiers, “that smell” which means an explosion of the Doo-Doo nature has occurred, and all around incurable insanity.  Did I miss anything? 

Common utterances while driving with child in car:

• “What did you do with your pacifier? How on earth did it get all the way over there???”
• “It’s okay, we’re almost there, please stop crying..." (spoken to SELF while crying)
• “Do you want to play with this toy?  How about this one? This one? This one? OMG JUST STOP THROWING THE TOYS.”
• “If you scream one more time you’re riding in the trunk on the way home.”
• “Why did I stop taking birth control again?”

So, if you’d like to get me something for Christmas that I could really use?  A large family vehicle with navigation system, incredible sound system (in case I need to blast out "unwanted background noise") and drop-down DVD player (to keep the rugrat hypnotized) would be nice. 

Barring your incredible generosity in this matter, I’ll just have to save my sanity by figuring out how to make trunk riding safer for my toddler.  And how to soundproof a trunk. (He keeps complaining that the duct tape hurts.)

Do it for the kid, guys.  Do it for the kid.

Lotus is a full-time mother to one mischievous, toddler son and wife to a road-touring, musician husband. You can find her pontificating about motherhood and life at Sarcastic Mom , 7 days a week.

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