You're Driving Me Crazy

I work full-time about an hour from my house and my husband stays at home with the kids and works part-time at night about 15 minutes from our house. Why am I telling you this minutia about our lives? Because it helps explain my frustration on our family trip to DC, a three…hour…tour or so the song goes.

Cruising along in our automobile, a mini-van containing two boys, a portable TV/VCR strapped to the front seats, 45 video games and the appropriate game operating system, 400 pretzel sticks, 2 bags of Doritos, a cooler filled with ice and drinks and even some healthy food, a cleverly hidden bottle of wine, four pillows and two blankets, my husband is in the left lane bearing down on a truck. He’s annoyed that a truck is in the left lane only going 65. He’s gesturing at the driver and sighing heavily. I find this slightly amusing since he doesn’t seem to understand why I get road rage when I drive to work five days a week with a goal of getting to work on time. Drivers, who apparently have all the time in the world at 8:00 on a Monday morning, tend to stroll leisurely in front of my vehicle. His biggest traffic jam is the speed bump in A&P’s parking lot.


On our family road trips, I’m happy to relinquish the wheel to him. Within five miles of our house, he declares he could never drive down the highway I take to work everyday because OBVIOUSLY the traffic lights are designed so you catch every red light. I wonder if you can check with the county traffic department to find out if that’s true.


My job during this ride was being in charge of toll money. In the heated rush to reach our destination, my husband quickly handed the money to the toll booth operator and sped away. I had given him $10. The toll was $3. I’m still waiting for my refund. I figure that when you blow through a toll, you get a notice in the mail to pay it. They take a picture of your license plate to make sure you get the bill. Doesn’t it work the same way when you overpay?


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