[an error occurred while processing this directive] Text Archives - Random Thoughts - The Grandparents: Driving

November 10, 2003

Confusion, fear, regret, loathing, angst, rage, lonliness, emptiness, paranoia, marveling at the grotesque display of irrational behavior and total disregard of all logic, similar to how one would marvel at a multiple-fatality car accident as they passed by - these are just some of the sensations I get when I'm a passenger in a vehicle being driven by either of my grandparents. Fortunately my grandfather no longer drives, but my grandmother is still testing the skills of thousands of Central Floridians everyday as she absent-mindedly makes her way down the roads.

I'll begin with my grandfather, even though he no longer drives.

Before my grandfather stopped driving due to reaccuring "dizzy spells" he would get that made driving with him even more unsafe than it already was, he had this primal obsession with driving at exactly the speed limit. He used to be a policeman and he probably gave out more speeding tickets than any other officer in the history of Mt. Dora, which is probably where is utter fear of speeding stems from. Ironically, he drives erratically in the way he kept his speed down.

The street we used to live on had a speed limit of 25 MPH. It's well known that cops in traffic will allow you to get up to 35 while cops on the side of the road shooting radar will allow 30. Even during labor day weekend when all the cops are cracking down on speeders, Donnelly Street is one of the few roads they'll let you get away with five-over on. Being a cop, my grandfather knew this. That didn't stop him from hitting the fucking brakes everytime he noticed he was about to go over 25, but had not really done so yet. Pulling out of the driveway he'd quickly get to 25 and then slam on his brakes almost every single time, almost coming to a complete stop just to jump to 25 again and repeat the process. On the highway he'd get to five under the speed limit and coast until he dropped to about twenty below, and then speed up to five under again. Needless to say, it pissed people off.

When it came to stopping, it was if he had momentarily forgotten where the brake pedal was until he was just about to run into something, or run through a red light or stop sign. I swear I once heard him say, "Oh, there it is," as he slammed on the brakes at a stop sign. The only thing stopping him from rear-ending anyone is his refusal to drive at the speed anyone else in their right mind would drive.

Now on to my grandmother, a woman who's probably driven enough miles to circle the earth as many times as she's had her brakes worked on, but yet still can't really figure out how to work these newfangled horseless carriage contraptions, confound it.

90% of the cars she's owned were nigh-exotic and very fast. She's had a few Italian sports cars, Cadillacs, Camaros (one with a very mean 454 under the hood), old German luxury cars and others I can't think of right now. You'd think she knows how to move her ass on the road. I think about the only thing those cars did for her was give her the idea she should never have to do more than gently lay her foot on the gas pedal to go places. Right now she's driving a Ford Escort with a four-cylinder and a ricer exhaust that the previous owner installed for some evil and twisted reason. It's not very fast, but it can move if you want it to. I've driven it a few times when my car was out of commission and I've never encountered a problem with it in regards to speed. That doesn't stop her from complaining about how slow it is, and how everyone honks at her for going so slow on the take-off from traffic lights. Gee woman, I don't know about that one. Have you tried hitting the fucking accelerator? Of course not. Then you wouldn't be complaining.

At least she's not like my grandfather, and doesn't panic everytime she goes a few miles over the speed limit. Depending on where she's at, she usually stays at about five over. But she does something else just as annoying. Even if she's going at a very unspectacular speed of 35 MPH, if a light up ahead a hundred feet or less away turns yellow, she'll slam on the brakes and come to an almost-complete stop, and then use her idle speed to crawl up to about a car length away from the line while everyone behind her looks for a meteor crashing to the earth, or something else that would cause this woman to stop like that. She's gotten rear-ended two or three times doing this and has no plans on stopping anytime soon. I guess it's because the rear-ender is the one who gets the ticket, despite the retardedness of the "victim."

Sometimes, instead of crawling up to the line at a traffic light as I mentioned, she'll accelerate to it after stomping on the brake pedal, and then stomp on it again when she gets to the line, as if some imaginary grand prix driver has just challenged her to a race to the red light and she unhesitantely accepted. It's funny as hell when she does this in the van when we're on a trip though, because my aunt will always end up rolling around on the floor and cussing under her breath while various articles of luggage and whathaveyou rain down on her.

She also has some phobia of changing lanes when someone is in the next lane within a thousand yards of her. She'll turn her blinker on, then turn it back off and have a look of contemptable distress on her face that makes me want to rip the wheel off the steering column and turn it into an African lip disk for her. Then again, at other times she'll just go without even looking and come damn close to running some unsuspecting driver off the road. I'm not sure of her pattern of alternation. It might be that she refuses to change lane on odd days, and changes lanes regardless of all human decency on the even days. I'll have to ask her.

Along with her phobia of changing lanes is her phobia of others changing lanes, largely but not solely having to do with them coming into her lane in front of her. One time an RV got between her and the person in front of her and she started freaking out, even though the RV was more than a car length ahead of us and did not slow down at all. She rode her brakes and bitched about it for a half a mile before my aunt finally told her to shut the hell up, and then nominated my uncle to drive, hoping that maybe the bitch would go to sleep and shut up for once.

Riding with her while driving is not the real pain-in-the-ass, though. It may be a bit scarier, but not nearly as annoying as driving while she's in the passenger seat, particularly when she's "teaching" you how to drive after you've obtained your learner's permit. My dad was a speakerbox of perpetual needless yelling, but it was nothing compared to this. Have you ever been in a car with busted censors and wouldn't stop saying "the door is ajar"? Driving with my grandmother in the car is a lot like that, but about three times as annoying. She contantly has one eye on the speedometer and another watching out for stop signs, and on the wheel to make sure you have both hands on it at all times. I'd rather have my dad in the car, honking my horn and hanging his head out the window yelling at people while listening to some shitty music on my radio.

You're about to go over the speed limit! Slow this thing down!

That was NOT a complete stop! Do you know what would happen to you if there was a cop sitting around here?!

Don't just speed off from a green light! Just because it's green doesn't mean you have to go right away!

Don't ever run a yellow light! You don't know when it could turn red and one of these truckers or hotrodders could just plow right into you!

Both hands on the wheel, you never know when you could lose control!

Yeah, over my hands as I try my damndest not to choke the overstretched life out of you. Goddamn. [an error occurred while processing this directive]