Before you all start looking down at my post here, and start snickering, let me tell you a few things.
I am a very good driver. I have never had an accident, (thank God, and don’t plan in having one, Insha’Allah). The mister in my home has had some fender benders, well, maybe not some, but at least two or was it three. If you ask him about it, he will look at you like you are joking!
He is a cautious driver. NO DOUBT about that. In a 30 mile zone, he will go as fast as twenty miles, and say “I hope there is no chaacha sitting around the bend with his radar on”! I never bother to criticize him, because it is no use. If I tell him, “Ok, let’s put foot to the pedal mister, we needed to be at that place about ten minutes ago!” He looks at me and says, “Don’t hurry me. I want to arrive there in one piece!”
And this is a small town!
When he is sitting in my car and I am at the wheel, I am very careful not to ruffle his feathers. While getting out of the garage, and before I hit the drive way, I see him turning right and left and right and left again! I tell him that I am still in the garage and he doesn’t have to be so stressed so soon. He pretends his neck was bothering him and that’s why he was looking around. Then I pull into the drive way, and I hear, “daek ko, daek ko!” I look at him and ask, “Look where?” he says, “No, I just wanted you to be careful as you pull out on to the road.”
We live in a secluded area where the only traffic is from our own car or my daughter’s car from six houses down or an occasional neighbor. I smile at him and keep staring at him with my eyebrow cocked up? He has a flat line to his lips!
We get on the road, and his right hand immediately grabs the ‘oh s**t handle’ above his door. I ask him, what was happening? He tells me oh nothing, I just want you to drive carefully—and I haven’t even reached the end of our street to join the main road yet.
Ohhhhh! What can I say?
Once on the road, if I go 32 to 35 miles in a 30 mile zone, mister starts whining, ‘ummmm, Zakiah, you drive too fast.’ I tell him not to look at the road or the speedometer, (which he does often) and to look out the window. And if there is a car about half a block ahead of us, he starts pumping his foot on the floor, as if he is applying the break, or he thinks I am blind and cannot see ahead of me, or am driving with a blindfold on. You should see the floor of my car on the passenger side! Again I look at him and when he looks at me, I look at his foot. He then yells, “God, Zakiah, pay attention. Don’t take your eyes off the road!”
Fifty plus years! Fifty frikkin plus years of this passenger side shenanigans! What do you do?
So now, we go to the same place in two different cars (often). I hear my ghazals in my car, he listens to fast Bollywood music in his car.
Do you all have backseat or passenger seat drivers in your cars?
Please don’t tell me women drivers are not good! Majority of them are better drivers than their spouses, me thinks.