Born To Be a Passenger

         I hate to drive. I am in my car most days tooling around within 5 miles of home.  I can get to the major city I live by, if I really have to.  I should learn to make the 45 minute drive to one of my most favorite places on earth.  For now, trips to Trader Joe’s will remain a date night event.

         It is unusual for someone who likes to be in control to be a happy passenger in a car.  Since MapQuest  and Google Maps, I am a better navigator.  I can look for signs with the best of them.  If the driver doesn’t want my help, I‘m good with that also.

          On our college trip last week, it was actually another mom who drove my car.  She likes to drive, I don’t, we were a perfect match.

          Letting someone else be in charge is relaxing.  I like not being responsible.  I am perfectly willing to admit someone else is the better driver, and let him, or her, have at it.  When my son was 15 years old, he drove in rush hour traffic, on the  Washington beltline, in the dark, to get to the hockey rink.  He had an out of state learner’s permit.  It was not until we were back home from that trip that I began to wonder if it was legal for him to drive in another state. The fact is he was, and is, the better driver. 

        I make hundreds of decisions a week that lead to hundreds of different actions.  Admittedly, I make small, non-earth shaking, life shaping decisions.   But make them, I do.

         Sometimes it is nice to let someone else be in charge.