I’m not exactly sure where we were…I think we had just got my strawberry pie from Whataburger that they forgot to put in my bag through the drive-thru window and we had traveled down the road for a little ways. It was at this point that my husband pulled off the road near some motels and said that he needed to take a nap.
His double cheeseburger was making him sleeping he confessed.
So he ordered me to drive so he could let his cheeseburger settle while he slept it off. We switched seats and he leaned back the passenger side seat til it almost hit my oldest on his knees, grabbed himself a pillow and adjusted himself in his seat. He grumbled something under his breath about not liking fast food, and then I grabbed the steering wheel, put the key in the ignition and pressed the gas.
What would you know if he didn’t sit straight up in his seat.
“Nervous Honey?” I asked him.
“Well yes, you’re driving!” he exclaimed.
“Get over it,” I retorted back. “You’re the one who is so full you’re sleepy. That’s what you get for eating my strawberry pie.”
Then he proceeded to backseat drive: Slow down! Hurry up! You’re pressing the breaks too hard!
Oh you mean like this?
“Oh my gosh!! We’re all gonna die!” he shouted.
And for a moment my life flashed before my eyes as I ran the red light.
At least he learned to keep quiet after that.
I usually never drive on roadtrips for obvious reasons. This roadtrip should have been no different. I made it through horrendous Austin traffic, and miles of highway afterward even as the crazy man in the old sportscar behind me began to tail my butt.
I loathe it when drivers do that.
What this jerk didn’t realize is that I am no normal mommy van driver. I have spent way too many high school afternoons sitting in front of a television playing Mario Kart. Albeit I was in a minivan and high school was well over ten years ago, I was not going to let that deter me from making sure I kept front position and the jerkwad in the ugly sportscar stayed behind me.
So I slowed down…way down.
A little car maneuvering later as he tried to pass me on my right and then back on my left, I finally conceded once I saw my exit for Canyon Lake come up. As he came up to my left side I gave him a dirty look and then he tried to ram me! This is where playing Mario Kart came in handy as I got out of his way before any damage was done. At this point my husband yelled at me to cut it out before I killed us all, so I listened and obeyed like a submissive wife and took the exit for Canyon Lake.
Five miles down the road, I pulled the van over still fuming over the road rage incident ten minutes back. I got out of my van and told the hubs it was his turn to drive.
He couldn’t have been more relieved.
Let’s Review Why I Don’t Drive on Roadtrips:
I stop every couple hours for restroom breaks or to stretch my legs.
I don’t take directions very well from the passenger seat.
I tend to get pissed off at little men in big cars.
Now I know why my husband hates eating fast food on roadtrips…I just never knew it had something to do with my driving.
Be sure to check out my other Spring Break 2010 Posts:
Part 1: Texas Weather is Like a Box of Chocolates
Part 2: Roadtrip Cheapwadry – Driving on the Wild Side
Part 3: Why I Don’t Drive on Roadtrips
Part 4: Canyon Lake
Part 5: Hooker Hotels and Long Lost Aunts
Part 6: The Alamo and I Still Have No Clue Who Jim Bridger Is
Part 7: Let’s Go to Luckenbach Texas
