Evil Twin

When I get behind the steering wheel of a car, I become the evil twin of my normally calm, composed self. I talk to other drivers. All of them.

To the guy who blows by me: "What, you don't like this life well enough you have to go shooting for the next? Hope you don't take any innocent victims with you."

To the slow guy whom I have to pass: "There's this new feature on most cars. It's called an accelerator. When you step on it, the car magically begins to move forward." OR "Pedal. Pedal hard."

Other drivers rub me the wrong way, but the one that I have the hardest time with is my husband. Some drivers are very good  at following or leading when two cars are traveling together. It's a simple process. You decide who is going to take point and then the other person follows. Throw in a little communication, and it's easy. That's the way it works.

Not on a trip to Indianapolis. The December after we got married we decided to gift the entire family with a weekend getaway to include indoor bumper cars and sledding. I, being the "think ahead" traveler that I am, got printed directions off the computer. My husband had a GPS. He wanted to be point, so I agreed to follow.

As you head into Indianapolis from the East, you can either travel straight on I-70 or you can take the outer loop. As we approached this decision point, I called my husband on his cell and asked which he was going to do. He responded, "Let's take the loop." This was fine since I was already in the right lane to take the appropriate exit in two miles. As I took the exit I watched my husband continue straight.

I called him again. "Um, Dear, didn't you say we were going to take the loop?" Response: "Yeh, but at the last minute the GPS told me to go straight."

My evil twin was REALLY not happy.