Lock eyes with me when I say this to you (I am so serious right now). No one likes a backseat driver. In fact, they're probably one of the most loathed folks on the planet. Just don't do it. This is one of those things that is probably common knowledge, right? I mean, duh! And yet...it still happens. I feel it my responsibility to remind you to keep that on lockdown if you are compelled to offer tips on routes or driving technique to the driver of a vehicle in which you are being transported. Cool? Okay, good. Hugs and double back tap.
In our save-the-planet-and-our-wallets-by-carpooling effort, Vern and I decided to be as fair about it as we possibly could (as we are with most things) and take turns driving each day, except for Fridays (on Fridays we each drive and take a shift with the kids). Today was my day to drive. Like most days, our car was brimming over with the boisterous sounds of sing-along songs and shouts of desired song solos. That sounds nice, right? Sometimes it is. But really, it's a nice way of saying the shit gets crazy.
The carride is really just an extension of all the madness we maintain in our domicile, except we are in closer quarters, the decibel level goes up by a few points and patience is diminished by a few notches. All the while someone is trying to ensure safe delivery to destination and on time.
The screaming and singing is peppered with attempts at meaningful conversation before we each head off to face our days...which is sometimes successful and sometimes not. Add to this the steady and solid rhythmic dripping of conveyance concerns and transportations tips...dripping... into the conversation... like water (torture) from a leaky faucet, and, well, ha--anxious giggling--it's a recipe for disaster, my friend. Complete and utter disaster.
It went a little something like this: singing by Ethan, interrupted by Ella, both singing the same song but in rounds--not on purpose--very loudly, Ethan gets pissed b/c he wants this act to be solo, Ells just sings louder, Ethan gets more pissed, it's raining, Vern says "turn here, why are you going that way, you should've went the other way", Ethan's crying and still screaming out his song so he's not outdone by his sister, Ella's still singing, did I mention it was raining, we're running late, my gas light comes on and dings, and Vern offers up more driving advice, leading me to scream in my head I love you, but if you say one more--ONE MORE--thing about where I need to drive or how I need to drive there, I'm going to take you out. I swear it, I will lose my shit and take you out! But I don't. I give him the eyebrow instead. Which is better because it conveys everything I could ever say without saying it, all in one quick and silent moment. It's like Zorro with his sword, except it's just me with my right eyebrow, so... pretty much nothing like Zorro. Except for that cool swishing sound he makes with his sword. I'm pretty sure that when I raise my eyebrow it makes that sound. [Sideways glance. Zoom in. Raised right eyebrow. Swoosh.] No more directional guidance...at least for today, ha!
This pretty much explains my need for a moment of reflection, candle lighting and heavenly voices this morning, doesn't it? Now I know you are probably thinking, Yeah, well, maybe he was just trying to help , or even, I'm sure he has things he wants to "take you out" for, to which I say, true and true. You're forgetting, however, that 1) It was my day to drive, and a passenger MUST respect the driver. It's in the rule book. 2) This isn't about what I do vs. what he does. I love him to bits and am so not bashing in any way. This is a post about backseat driving, and on THAT topic--I love ya, baby, if you're reading this--I win.
I'll use my singing bowl, burn incense and chant before I leave work so that I'm in a much calmer state of mind for the drive home.
Is there a backseat driver lurking in your house? Is there a time when you thought you would lose it while driving?