Tuesday, April 22, 2008

Baby, You Can Drive My Car

I envy people who can just jump into the car and go somewhere complicated * without breaking out in a cold sweat of horror at the thought of trying to read road signs and maps and remembering where to turn and comprehending that there is a stop sign or a red light or a one-way street or a stopped vehicle directly in front of me, etc. etc. etc.

Let's just say that I am not a navigator. We might also say that I am not a happy driver. My vision is so bad I can't read the signs until it's too late, and the panic factor sets in and handicaps me even in the few driving skills I do have.

Nope. See my name on all those passenger seats? That's where I like to sit. It's not because I'm lazy, or that I like to see YOU do all the work. It's because when I get behind the wheel in an unfamiliar place and am required to navigate, I die a little inside, and would almost rather just pull into the first parking lot I see and sit there, in the car, for the rest of my life, rather than take to the road again.

If you are passing by a parking lot any time soon, and happen to notice a car parked a good foot from the curb, or ~~straddling~~ almost touching the white line, check to see if there's a fat chick inside the car, sweating bullets and trying desperately to re-fold a map. Tap on the window and say "hi," because it's probably me. Bring Diet Cokes. (Please.) (Thank you.)

* When I say "somewhere complicated," what I am really saying is "anyplace I don't already know by heart."